Which Discomfort do You Prefer? Discomfort, Part I


I hate to break it to you, but, in order for you to grow into the next version of yourself, you are going to be uncomfortable. When you push yourself beyond your current comfort zone, you simply aren’t in familiar surroundings.
It’s just part of the process, part of the price you pay for growing into a better you.

What does that  “uncomfortable” look like?

That uncomfortable feels and looks like doubt and fear and trepidation and frustration and confusion. Your present self would much rather stay in the cave, safe and coddled in.

Big goals force you to put yourself out there, and it’s not impossible that you might go into a bit of a panic mode–talk about uncomfortable!

There is another kind of “Uncomfortable”

The discomfort that comes from beating yourself up is different. It does not propel you forward, doesn’t create growth or make you stronger. Actually, it does the opposite: it holds you back, tightens you, resists you and moves you backwards.

Here is an example:

“Working hard” can be uncomfortable both ways:

  • When you work hard because you are pushing yourself, it’s uncomfortable but you are propelled forward and you wind up with positive results.
  • When you are uncomfortable because you hustle around, stress out and indulge in negative emotions at work, this “uncomfortable” does not propel you forward, and neither does it produce your highest level of work at your highest capacity.

How do you figure out which discomfort you are experiencing?

This is a really important question for you to ask yourself because the confusion between the two is the
difference between success and failure long-term. And the short-term discomfort for the long-term gain is always worth it as long as it’s the right kind of discomfort–the kind that is actually serving you.

So ask yourself: why am I uncomfortable? What is the reason I’m experiencing discomfort? Now, of course, the answer will always be in the form of a thought (a sentence in your head), and your thoughts always cause your feelings.

If the thought that comes to your mind is something like, “I’m not good at this, this is too hard, this is too confusing, I’m never going to be able to do this, I won’t be able to…, I’m not good enough,” your discomfort is not serving you. It spins you because of negative thinking.  This is the kind of discomfort that should provoke you to really think about what you choose to think because any action that comes out that discomfort will not bear good fruit in your life.

When you ask yourself, “why am I experiencing discomfort”, and the answer is, “because I’m moving towards something I’m not used to, I’m trying something new, I’m discovering something, I’m putting myself in an
unfamiliar situation, I’m venturing outside of the cave,” then you know that you’re experiencing discomfort that will have a proper payoff, that will be worth it.

Good discomfort as a currency.

Useful discomfort is the currency of your dreams.

When you set your goal, manage your mind and move forward with massive action toward the result you want and don’t quit until you are there, you will experience a lot of discomforts. But this is the kind of discomfort that serves you, and you know it because you feel yourself moving forward.


I am curious how this blog post might affect your life for good–please tell me in the comments! And don’t be stingy—share with your friends!


Creative Writing: Forty-five Years of Waiting

Forty-five years of waiting, seeking, striving, struggling, praying, believing or not, wondering where my faith was, feeling guilty and unable to stand.

Forty-five years.

I felt like Abraham.

I gave up so many times, and then I picked up the dream again because I knew God was in it. But for the life of me, I could not see a way.

And I failed and failed and failed.

Just like Abraham did.

Forty-five years of picking myself up and believing again. Of letting down my nets again. Of speaking to my soul again. Of letting Him help me to let go and let Him.

Just like Abraham must have.

Forty-five years.

And then, one day, I was sitting at home when the Spirit of God whispered one single word into my spirit, and a literal earthquake happened inside of me–living lava erupted through the crusty dirt of my human frailty and burned away forty-five years of waiting, seeking, striving, struggling, praying, believing or not, wondering where my faith was. Or maybe the lava fulfilled the years of picking myself up and believing again, letting down my nets again, speaking to my soul again, letting Him help me let go and let Him.

I do not know.

All at once, I became David who couldn’t help but say, “This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him and saved him out of all his trouble.”

And I became Sarah who laughed when she birthed a son to Abraham.

And I who struggled for forty-five years became the one to whom Jesus said, “your faith has healed you.”

How can these things be?

Nothing is too good to be true.