Comfort; my yearning desire and most colossal fear. This is the story of my battle against the feeling of security.

 

It begins during my seemingly innocent days of childhood. Growing up in Asia, education was less of an opportunity and more of a war zone. I was a soldier, comfortable in my ability to perform. My lethal weapon; hidden in the form of a calculator and a pencil. Unfortunately, that comfort became both a blessing and a curse.

 

With confidence came endangerment: I had a mentality that I didn’t have to exert effort to flourish. Now, math class with my best friend was spent discussing our future escapades instead of algebra, and the prettiest boys instead of geometry. This backfired, and as a consequence of my lacking performance, I was stripped of my ranks and placed in a lower math class.

 

I was devastated, and unusually indignant. To think that my emotional competency reached as far as to feel angry about this situation reinforced the amount in which I cared about this subject. I lost the target I was following and surrendered myself to the humiliating cost of arrogance.   

 

When a General faces failure but isn’t defeated, the motivation to succeed amplifies. Determination ran through my veins, and my newfound ambivalence was counteracted by the discovery of the potential of education. Additional participation in class became less of a chore and more of a hobby. Slowly, my positive results and constant dedication resulted in the one thing I was hoping for: a promotion back into the highest ranked math set.

 

Fueling the rest of my education, I found it ironic how a subject defined by definite values gave me immeasurable amounts of insight.

 

Just as I believed I had defeated the enemy, I came across a landmine in undiscovered territory. A nagging dilemma which hinted at a premonition; I was comfortable again. Despite the arduous journey to success avowedly complete, personal satisfaction was a new target I craved. I had decided that with security came stagnancy, a horrifying concept in a world that is ever-changing. The enemy transformed into the idea of comfort and the battlefield shifted from school to my head.

 

My unhealthy relationship intensified as I pushed myself to embark on a new educational journey. Not only was this a monumental step as I had been in the same environment for my entire life, but because I would be travelling to eight countries for the next two years while earning my diploma.

 

Three flights and six car rides later, I arrived in country number one: Botswana. As I was uncomfortably surrounded by everything that was unknown, I was blessed with the gift of overwhelming experiences. Birds chirped to accompany the break of dawn as the sunlight leaked onto our freezing faces. The blockade of the fear of seeking comfort rumbled with the engines of cars that brought me on game drive after game drive. Despite the fact that I was constantly in unfamiliar surroundings, I couldn’t help but feel equipped. I was comfortable and content, yet driven to accomplish new objectives, a feeling I didn’t think was possible. Instead of arriving back at camp, I landed in a new destination; the no-mans-land section of my mind.

 

As I trudged through unchartered territory, I realized that comfort could be a form of reassurance instead of a sign of lack of improvement. My dread of coming to a developmental standstill was both fueled and subsided by feeling secure. However, the pulchritude of the little details that brought me comfort in Botswana made my new weapon against stagnancy clear; with the double-edged sword called comfort, I need to adjust my grip to use it to its full potential.

 

The trumpet blasts and the troops have retreated. My inner battle concluded, the treaty has been signed. The final line in the agreement I promised myself moving forward: find comfort by seeking discomfort.