The lure of comfort and how to fight it

Or how it's not always the right choice to be super comfy as we get older

It seems that we’re turning into creatures that can’t cope with discomfort. We have masks that shut out light when we go to bed. Plugs to put in our ears so we can’t hear any murmurs. Plasters to stick on your partner’s nose to stop him/her snoring. Natural light lamps so we can wake up like we’re in a field at sunrise (though with the sleep mask we might not). No drop of rain should ever fall on our head/no situation should lack a light source/no activity without a specific set of clothing attached to it. There are leggings that are lined with fur. Socks so soft that you could wrap a newborn in them (maybe put them inside so they don’t have to feel any discomfort).

It’s also winter so of course there is a tendency to lean in to the slanket/anything furry/slippers. This week I went into the office, and for the first time I put HARD shoes on my feet. By HARD I mean boots with laces and zips. For about 3 weeks I’d worn Ugg-style boots and slippers. Maybe the occasional trainer. I’d also been getting into pyjamas by about 4pm each day as soon as the sun went down. As I climbed the tube escalator at Farringdon it felt like I had bricks on the ends of my feet. My headphones were wrapped around my handbag, and so they kept getting pulled to the side of my head. Everything felt like EFFORT. I laboured to walk up the small incline to the office. As I went up the stairs, I had to grab a bannister to help pull me up. My sustainable tin coffee cup was hard too, and it clanked against my teeth. I felt like everything was pointy. The shoes were stiff. My feet inside like dry bones. They felt like they were in a mini tin coffin, with stones stacked on either side. The collar on my shirt made my neck itch, and the jumper I was wearing was irritating my skin so bad that I kept scratching my upper arms. At lunchtime I looked for something in Boots to sort it all out - ‘magical cream for stopping back to work jumper itchy arm syndrome/stiff feet/coffin shoes’. There wasn’t one.

I spent the day struggling with discomfort. This is ridiculous I know as there are way more uncomfortable situations, of course there are, but I’m just being honest here. The chair wasn’t at the right angle. My lunch had gone cold by the time I got back to my desk. The Christmas decorations were still hanging about, and they looked sad and fake and like they were revealing what a ridiculous farce the whole season actually is. Which we know it is.

It wasn’t just the discomfort of the shoes. It was the discomfort of being in the office. Of being back at work and on a laptop (even though I like my job most of the time). Of tripping over wires that I hadn’t grown accustomed to. Of making conversation with colleagues (which I actually enjoyed but had kind of forgotten how to because I had only spoken to kids and my partner for weeks- not even spoken, more like grunted).

It made me think about comfort and discomfort. I realised that as I get older I have a strong tendency to lean into comfort. I do this with friends (not wanting to make new connections or cast off old relationships that aren’t working). I do this with clothing-choosing the same styles of clothes and not really experimenting outside that limited range of styles (I have 6 or 7 pairs of dungarees and ditto for boiler suits. Also pretty blouses). I order the same pizza if I go to ‘Pizza Express,’ (and