The (Dis)Comfort Zone

I realized recently that I rarely stray outside my comfort zone. It takes such an effort for me to keep going to classes, for example, or anything at night. Parties on weekends are a supreme effort at times, though I’m usually glad I went. But why is there such an effort behind going out, forward? Anxiety runs in my family, I believe all of us but Ned suffer from it. Mine comes in waves, where the terrible times make me feel like old wood, about to crack and splinter. I think Nat’s is like this, too. When he was a baby and had some new food in front of him, he said, “Don’t worry hot dogs.” Trying so hard to self-soothe; his poignant efforts still make me swoon with pride and love. But I don’t allow the same compassion for myself. When my anxiety keeps me inside I feel like a worthless human being. Even though my life’s circumstances allow me to do this, to do nothing, or to do whatever I want, I feel like I should be doing more. I used to be so different and maybe that was because the boys were still home and I needed to get out of the house. One of Benji’s first sentences was “I go mee-in,” and then he’d hide, imitating his suddenly missing Mommy. That guy has always been able to just nail it, even when he was only two. This was back when I was on our town’s School Committee and I was very politically active. My whole life seemed to center around my boys and school, and making the school system work for ...
Source: Susan's Blog - Category: Child Development Authors: Tags: Uncategorized Source Type: blogs