My Comfort Zone Almost Killed Me
In this life, we all want to be comfortable and live lives free of turmoil, trauma, and trouble. And what’s so wrong with that? As humans, we all know how pain can lead to misery, so we often cling to the things that help relieve it at all costs. But, indeed, at what cost? Personally speaking, it wasn’t until I was all grown up that I realized how toxic my environment had truly been. On the surface, I had everything I needed and even some of what I wanted. Nevertheless, the intangible aspects of life, the unquantifiable elements of our existence, often have the most significant impact. Over the years, I slowly realized that although my life appeared to be as “normal” as those around me, I lacked support, understanding, and unconditional love. So, although a “comfort zone” is a concept that implies some sense of contentment, my comfort zone was a result of becoming too comfortable in my discomfort.I was the youngest of three in a religious family with traditional values. This may sound like a dream to some, but life can be pretty tricky when you are a naturally curious mystic who embraces all aspects of life while subscribing to none. Moreover, having a parent from the Deep South while being raised in the North several decades later created barriers that empathy would never overcome. I hated religion from the start; one of my earliest memories involved getting yelled at for questioning why we always went to church and asserting that I no longer wanted or needed to go. These debates became commonplace almost every Sunday for nearly 14 more years; I found myself constantly trying to find ways to avoid church while also trying to reason that I didn’t necessarily believe or agree with her religion and that forcing me to go would only continue to breed resentment. At any rate, I was the odd girl out. My mom had been programmed from early in life to “be obedient.” She was forced to attend church several days a week and could not…
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