Skip to main content

Discomfort Zone

A recent event made me think what dealing with discomfort can teach. I was supposed to accompany a friend to a networking event. Last minute business travel left B out of town and the prospect of me attending this event alone. Generally that would not be a problem but we have very different lines of work and I did not think I could gain or contribute much on my own there - this was B's crowd and I was only a secondary beneficiary. I did not want to beg out entirely because this could turn out to be useful to one or both of us. Yet, I wished very much to avoid going. 

So there was some back and forth on the topic - I needed a fair bit on convincing and finally I decided to go. The sense of discomfort permeated the whole experience - I was not dressed warm enough for the weather; had to stop at a department store to grab a scarf. My shoes felt wrong as did my entire outfit though objectively I was dressed very average business casual like everyone else there. The conversations felt stilted and seemed to take effort to get in a good flow. After an hour, I felt more at home even if around people I shared very little in common professionally. Some intersections and points of interest were discovered all the same. People have diverse backgrounds and back stories that can be a learning experience in itself. The way back home was much less fraught. 

I thought about the curve of discomfort, rising to its peak at the time I decided I needed to buy a scarf to survive the blustery weather. The lowest point occurred when I arrived home and started to heat up some dinner - the adventure was over and nothing had gone awry for anyone. I wondered how it would be to play out the entire curve of this incident the next time I find myself in a discomfort zone. Knowing the end of the story may prove a great way to embark on things I would otherwise resist much harder.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...