The Discomfort of Discovery

Each year, right before my birthday—and actually, usually around this same time—some shift happens in me where I am forced to discover something about myself.

One year, it was realizing that while I was turning 40, I didn’t have nearly as much figured out as I thought I would. And that was okay.

Last year, it was discovering that my battery, socially and mentally, requires recharging. I realized that I can’t go long periods of time without sitting in the stillness of my own thoughts and in my own energy. I wouldn’t say that I am a total introvert, because I do enjoy getting dressed and stepping out every once in a while, but my spirit requires a level of solitude that some people have a hard time understanding—or even relishing in.

Last year, I discovered that about myself on a much deeper level.

It was a challenging discovery because it required some tough conversations with people I deeply cared about. I had to explain that in order to reach my highest self—and to feel as though I had the capacity to truly be in partnership—there would be times when my solitude would be my highest priority, after being a mom.

And even then, I became much more intentional about leaning into my village so I could have those moments.

Fast forward.

Leading into what will be my 46th trip around the sun, something occurred recently that had a significant impact on me and ultimately caused a lightbulb to go off.

While meditating on the event and desiring clarity, I discovered something about myself:

I am extremely uncomfortable with having my perspective, point of view, ideology—all of the above—challenged.

When someone intentionally and insistently challenges my perspective on something, that uncomfortable feeling comes creeping up the back of my neck. I feel attacked. And suddenly, I’m ready for war.

Generally, in serious partnerships, I’ve been the one encouraging someone else to challenge the status quo or consider something from my point of view. But with this most recent experience, the tables were turned.

And they kept turning.

Until, eventually, I tapped into that superpower most moms have—the ability to zone in and out of a conversation while giving just enough passive backchanneling responses to feign interest in the wild, long-winded stories our littles decide to tell us at the most inopportune times.

I activated that superpower.

And clenched my jaw.

But the next day, my energy felt stagnant in my body. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin.

To shift the energy, I filled my day with all sorts of activities. I used that feeling to lift heavier at the gym. I tried to read, which wasn’t successful because the words just danced across the page as I ruminated over how this person I had just met had the audacity…

I even made a last-minute appointment to see my chiropractor, Dr. John, hoping he could snap whatever I was feeling right out of me.

It stayed.

And as the day progressed, it intensified. That millstone became heavier to carry.

So I sat in it.

Instead of continuing to try to run from it, I faced the discomfort. And what I discovered was that uneasy feeling I experience when I’m challenged in that way.

It’s foreign to me. Not because the people in my life lack the intellect to challenge me, but perhaps because I haven’t often found myself in situations where someone was willing to remain in that tension with me—to keep pushing against an idea I felt certain about.

And apparently, I don’t particularly enjoy it.

But I theoretically understand that challenge—and being called to broaden your perspective—is necessary for personal growth, even if the person’s approach is somewhat off-putting.

Sometimes you have to take the meat and leave the bones, as they say.

The more clarity I gained around this new “knowing,” and the more I was able to sit in that self-awareness without trying to escape it, the stagnant energy finally shifted.

So now, today, almost four months shy of my next birthday, I can sit in the knowing.

I can continue to grow and understand that being challenged doesn’t mean that your perspective or ideology is incorrect in its totality. It may simply mean that there’s more to unearth.

And maybe that’s the point.

It also makes me take note of how I challenge others. If I want people to be open to another perspective, I have to remember to be empathetic in my own approach.

Handle with care.

No matter how well you know yourself, remain open to discovering what hasn’t yet been revealed.

Sit in your self-discovery—whether it’s close to your birthday or on a random Wednesday—because it is vital to your evolution.

Be encouraged.