The Cost of Comfort

We made life easier, so why does everything feel so dull?

At first glance, seeking a life of comfort seems like a rational choice. After all, pain is something we are biologically programmed to avoid. You could argue that we’ve progressed past a lot of the rigid standards that previous generations had to abide by, gradually discarding stiff traditions we once stuck to as a society, and leaving a powdered, pompadoured, corset-laden floor behind us in its wake.

And although we tend to look back at previous eras with admiration, there’s also a sense of relief. Audrey Hepburn sure looks like a dream, but thank God we don’t need to stuff ourselves into starched fabrics, neat updos, or other formalities anymore, right? You can’t deny that our pants are much roomier, our hair freer and looser on our shoulders. In comparison, we can coast by without a care in the world. For a large portion of time, women used to practically kill themselves wearing high heels to adhere to strict beauty standards, but when we finally got the ability to choose-we ended up largely trading them for much more sensible footwear. That transition to flat, sturdy shoes was a practical choice of course, and over the last twenty-odd years, we’ve watched the fabulous high heel all but phase out of daily wear. We’re free from its painfully arched shackles now. But like anything in life, the price of freedom isn’t actually free. And I can’t help but wonder… what have we lost in our pursuit of making life easier for ourselves?

For me, my observations branched out of footwear and fashion and into how our lives have been shaped by this constant leaning toward ease. It’s probably one of the trendiest sentiments you see online and in real life now. And once you start noticing just how prevalent its gotten everywhere, it’s hard to ignore. Phrases like “protecting your peace” have taken over, along with the romanticization of staying in all the time, bonding over disliking social interaction, avoiding new experiences under the guise of “knowing what you like and who you are,” and constantly seeing people over-identify with labels that make them feel seen, heard, and secure.

It feels like everywhere I turn, I see examples of people carefully choosing to stay away from moments that might threaten the safe little bubble they’ve built for themselves. A sort of strange culture of self-soothing is everywhere, to the point where I even catch myself joining the quiet chorus of “yes, yes, I don’t have the energy for that anymore,” before snapping out of it and realizing where that line of thinking actually comes from.

You see, the danger of living a comfortable life is that comfort breeds complacency. You start to congratulate yourself, sitting in the cushy throws of your comfort zone, for creating the perfect little nest. Everything is just how you like it, so what does it matter if you aren’t soaring in the sky? After all, not all birds fly. Just because you have wings doesn’t mean you have to spread them. Sure, it’s beautiful out there, but honestly, you have a great view from where you are and so why should you make the effort to move?

You could go exploring for dinner, but why risk the effort when some nice pigeon would gladly DoorDash your next meal? If we’re being honest, this line of thinking is simply laziness packaged as self-care. When you constantly reward yourself with comfort, you lose the desire-the fire-to push yourself to do anything more. Why bother? Trying is exhausting. It’s awkward. It’s disappointing at times. Wouldn’t it just be easier to accept the alternative and be peaceful all the time? Peaceful… and mind-numbingly bored. Because the truth is, when we trade the difficulties of life for instant gratification, it leaves us feeling numb.

There’s a lot of criticism about the world not feeling as vivid or exciting as it used to. But how can it be when we’re constantly rewarding ourselves every second of the day? Things felt special because we had to work for them, or because they were rare treats. Now we pick up our phones the second we feel bored or anxious, and then wonder why we feel indifferent to everything. We order or cook our favourite foods all the time. Our “comfort” shows play endlessly in the background, and we wonder why nothing feels special anymore. Even the most beautiful joys in life start to pale when you indulge in them constantly.

My wake-up call came when I noticed I had started to feel bored even by things that used to bring me joy. Of course, our first instinct is to blame things externally. “The magic is gone,” we say. “The world just isn’t the same anymore.” But then I forced myself to sit in silence more over the past two weeks. To allow boredom. To feel discomfort. To not immediately reach for something to comfort myself the second I had the chance.

It’s easier said than done, but it’s something I’m willing to work on. Because if you think about it, everything worthwhile in life has an element of discomfort. And if I have one ongoing goal this year, it’s to sit in discomfort more, ideally to the point where it becomes a normal way of being for me. In that light, I encourage you to ask yourself, the next time you’re choosing the sweatpants or the night in, the job that pays the bills but doesn’t test your boundaries, or whatever the safe option may be. Is it self-care, or are you actually training yourself not to care at all?

Because by running away from discomfort, you’re also running away from the challenges that make life feel alive. So if you need me, I’ll be squeezing myself into some high heels today. After all, it’s harder to run away from something if your feet hurt while doing it.