Discomfort

I was going to write about boundaries - mostly the ones we set with ourselves – but my mind has wandered into the idea of discomfort and how it relates to change. The two, of course, go hand in hand.

A therapist once told me that we often use “pain” and “discomfort” interchangeably. Though intuitively we might know they’re not the same, hearing it spoken aloud was profound.

The example given was around boundaries: upholding a boundary may cause discomfort for someone, but it doesn’t necessarily cause pain.

As a recovering people-pleaser, this distinction was big news. I never wanted anyone to feel uncomfortable, because I thought that was hurtful, so I learned to contort myself into shapes that weren’t natural to me. Over time, I realized this was less about others and more about protecting myself. But in trying to spare others from discomfort, I was actually preventing growth - theirs and mine.

Lately, I’ve been noticing my own relationship to discomfort, especially around change. Not just that it exists, but how I react to it when it shows up. Am I resistant? Critical? Do I fall back into old patterns? This practice of noticing has been helping me shift my relationship to discomfort itself.

This work is nuanced and looks different for everyone, but one thing feels universal: how we engage with discomfort can determine whether or not we’re able to create lasting change.

And this ties directly into clinic life. So often, patients come to acupuncture because they’re ready to try something different than what they’ve tried before. But creating change isn’t as simple as deciding to do something new - our patterns have roots. They’re protective, familiar, and sometimes hard to unwind. So when I ask patients to shift a habit, add a routine, or approach stress differently, I know it’s not just about “following through.” It’s about learning to stay with the discomfort that naturally arises when we do things differently.

Instead of pushing through, I think the invitation is to lean into discomfort with curiosity. To ask: Why does this feel hard? What pattern am I bumping up against? Over time, these questions help us hold more compassion for ourselves as we practice new ways of being. Curiosity versus criticism. 

In clinic, part of my work is creating space for that process - holding space for the discomfort that accompanies growth. Because change isn’t just about needles or herbs or new routines; it’s also about understanding our relationship to the unknown.

And maybe the takeaway is this: discomfort doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re shifting. And often, that’s exactly where the healing begins.

One thing I’ve been practicing myself - and that may be helpful for you - is simply pausing when discomfort shows up. Before reacting, I ask: What is this feeling trying to protect me from? I don’t always get a clear answer, but the pause itself softens the pattern.

If you’d like, you might try this too. The next time you feel resistance to change, see if you can notice the discomfort, take one slow breath, and get curious about it. No judgment, no rushing to fix it - just awareness.

This is something I’m working on alongside you, and I believe the practice itself is where real change begins.