Why do we have comfort zones and how do we know we’ve broken out of them?
Is being in a comfort zone just recognizing something that you’ve done before and not feeling anxious about doing it again? Do you just need to feel nervous in order to know you’ve done something outside of your comfort zone?
There are so many hurdles every day that we have to get over and for some it is harder than others.
Starting a new job is scary enough, but for others, just getting a new bus can be the scariest part of it all! Anxiety in every walk of life is common and I am writing this mainly to prove to a lot of people that they are not alone. We are all more anxious than we let on but we mustn’t let it get the better of us. Sometimes, we just have to put our head down and run full speed into the wind. No matter what you’re thinking in the back of your head! Those voices who are saying, this is too hard, let’s go back inside: You have to ignore those.
It’s easy to not doing something because the pain and fear that comes with it is just too much. I have been a no show for so many interviews because I have found the tiniest excuse and wriggled out. What’s embarrassing is I tell myself “That was fate, I wasn’t meant to work there,” or “What came next was meant to be.” But what is really quite frightening is that I could have really missed out on some seriously good opportunities if I had just shown up.
Thinking about the immediate future and how nice it would be if the feeling went away now isn’t helpful. Of course you won’t regret not doing it, because you’ll never have known what you missed. It’s not possible to regret in these situations. But what is possible is just to begin to imagine the sense of pride you might feel if you do achieve something. That overwhelming buzz that you can get so quickly will make up for every last ounce of anxiety you have ever felt in your entire life on this planet.
Obviously, the fear can return because there are always new things to do, but so will the excitement if you beat it again.
My recent big steps include quitting my job, getting an internship and having my own articles produced daily on their website. I have covered topics from dementia to virtual reality. If you’re interested you can follow me on Twitter @MeganAtSMF.
I was comfortable, pretty miserable, but comfortable at my old job. I knew how everything worked, I knew which toilet wouldn’t bite my bum, I knew all the people (all 3 of them) and I knew my bus route like the back of my hand. Quitting my job was easy, because I knew this internship would be life changing. But during my last two weeks at the job, suddenly the work wasn’t so bad and was 3 months with absolutely no money worth it? I had to remind myself constantly that I was suffering from “graduation goggles.”
As if moving to a workplace on the outskirts wasn’t frightening enough, I signed up for my first ever poetry open mic night, just a week after the move.
It didn’t really hit me until the night of the event how scary it would be. I realised there was an actual hall, an actual microphone, an actual bar with actual bar staff and more than my boyfriend and best friend listening.
It was daunting and I might have had the help from a few whisky and cokes but I read my poem and shocked not only myself, but even my friends. Everyone was surprised with my performance because I managed to deliver it like I was totally cool and calm. I certainly didn’t expect my passion to come through, at all.
The video wasn’t spectacular but do I plan to post it here.
Try the Facebook link but I can’t guarantee it will work:
In case that doesn’t work I also have the poem here, which is just a poem about having some balls!
The Poem that was Worthy of an Open Mic Night
You’re a poet
be brave and don’t fear it.
“It’s old fashioned, it’s boring
it’s so gay.”
Says who? Teenagers.
A truly formidable group of young people.
End up with A stars in English lit and suddenly
don’t forsake it.
So it’s for open mic night
I’ve turned up to the door and never walked in
I’m a Chicken with a capital C, because you see
it scares me. You scare me.
Because I can’t let it be free.
Because I am silly.
The poems write me,
they’re always there, my control.
Don’t want to lose my shadow.
My fear is a disease, where it’s easy to not seize a passion because
others just don’t feel the same.
But it’s time to stand up, be a woman
know flow and grow against this society
that doesn’t move from the truths that it
thinks it knows,
I’m not a singer, I’m no performer.
Yet poetry brings that out in me.
So here is an ode to a poem, this poem infact,
that marks the occasion where I learnt to distract
myself from this thought, that was killing me inside,
that I couldn’t open up. That I wanted to hide.
So my poem, this poem, I just want to thank
you for giving me the oomph and giving me the knack to
get up on this stage and nearly pee my pants
but it’s not cut me down, it’s not made me weak.
I hear my voice is loud and it’s ready to speak.