Get Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

Breakups, new cities, tiny animals, and learning to love the mess.

“Get comfortable being uncomfortable”

I’m not sure where I heard this quote first. Maybe during an Instagram doom scroll. Maybe on a motivational podcast somewhere. Likely on a Pinterest board I haven’t looked at in months—okay, years.

Regardless of where I found it, it’s stuck with me and has become words I like to live by.

A month before I turned 30, my boyfriend of 5 years broke up with me. I was devastated. The man I thought I was going to marry was no longer on my path. I moved out of his place and into my parents’ basement. Lovely.

Three months later, I quit my teaching job. I was a big dog at that school—the families loved me, coworkers respected me, and I was on top of the world. Comfortable. Still, I left—leaving the school where I had learned to be a teacher, the co-workers who mentored me through my early adult journey, and the students who so graciously trusted me with their childhoods.

I wasn’t quite done shaking things up.

Six months after that, while threatening to move to Disney World in a late-night anxiety spiral, I found a job in Manatee County, Florida. Not exactly Disney, but it would do. Following the advice of a 22 year-old World of Beer waiter, I decided to take the plunge. I moved from my tight-knit family in the community that I grew up in and moved to St. Petersburg, Florida—a city I had barely set foot in. Ultimate discomfort.

While this year of complete life upheaval had my head spinning, as I look back at it now, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was uncomfortable. As uncomfortable as I’d ever been. And that experience equipped me with the confidence that’s turned my life into the best kind of adventure—messy, surprising, and completely my own.

In the last six years, I have tried on several friend groups, fostered tiny animals, including my foster-fail pup, Rudy, moved three times and bought a home, switched jobs three times, and endured too many hurricanes and way too many heartaches.

Between it all I’m learning. I’m attempting. I’m doing. I’m nailing or failing. Through it all I promise a light heart, a sense of humor, and raw honesty.

Here’s to trying things—even when they’re wildly uncomfortable. I’m so glad you’re here.