Whether I’m writing plays or planning some creative event, I am consistently “out there” (online and in person) risking failure, misunderstanding and rejection. I’ve been living this way so long that said states of failure, misunderstanding and rejection actually *are* my comfort zones; that is if I believed such things existed.
What would a comfort zone even look like? A narrow hallway with non-slip rugs? A room with a soft easy chair and a stack of Better Homes & Gardens? Would there be signage?
I know a “comfort zone” is a metaphor (at least I hope it is), but I honestly can’t think of a single person who lives comfortably or lazily or without risk. Most (if not all) of the people I know are working toward their own personal greater good.
We are all constantly putting ourselves in the line of fire at work, in our relationships, in our faith and with ourselves. Not just artists (holla!) but teachers, nurses, doctors, managers, laborers, first responders, morticians, waiters, waitresses, pizza delivery guys, stylists, lawyers, journalists and on and on.
Who and where are the people living inside their comfort zones?
According to National Alliance of Mental Illness (NAMI), more than 40 million adults have an anxiety disorder and this number doesn’t account for children. “Anxiety disorders,” NAMI says, “are the most common mental health concern.” Comfort Zone, take me away!
I wish I could believe in comfort zones.
I will say I do believe in being “in the zone.” That precious “good vibes only” place when we are each doing our thing. Whether they are teaching, reading, writing, diagnosing, parallel parking, sewing, cleaning, packing, locking up, hugging or whatever, I love to watch my friends and family when they are in their respective zones. Their posture and gaze shift into a peaceful intensity that is so beautiful to behold.
Hey, thank you for reading my blog. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go zone out. -Connie