The Struggle with Discomfort: Why We Avoid Our Feelings and What It’s Costing Us
We live in a culture that celebrates comfort. Air conditioning keeps our homes perfectly temperate. Meals arrive with a few taps. Even our entertainment is endless and immediate. We rarely have to exert ourselves physically, and we’ve grown used to emotional convenience, too. We have the option to escape discomfort almost instantly.
When something painful stirs — sadness, boredom, loneliness, frustration — we avoid. We scroll... we turn on another episode... we reach for distraction. And while these moments of avoidance might seem small, over time they create a kind of emotional muscle atrophy. The less we practice sitting with discomfort, the less capable we become of tolerating it when it inevitably appears.
How Emotional Avoidance Became Our Default
Emotional avoidance isn’t new, but our modern environment has made it darn near effortless. We are an adaptation-avoidant culture. Our lives are structured for stability — same indoor temperature year-round, predictable routines, instant problem-solving brought to you by AI. Our nervous systems rarely have to adapt to true challenge.
That stability has benefits, of course, but it also trains us to equate comfort with safety and discomfort with danger. So when hard emotions surface, our first instinct is to get back to baseline — to “fix it,” “avoid it,” or “push on.”
But emotions aren’t meant to be fixed or avoided. They’re meant to be felt and understood. When we bypass them, they don’t disappear — they reappear as body tension, irritability, inflammation, or conflict in our relationships.
Avoidance offers short-term relief at the cost of long-term well-being.
The Cost of Not Feeling What We Feel
Think of your emotional health like a car that needs regular oil changes. Skipping one doesn’t seem like a big deal. You tell yourself you’ll get to it later — and for a while, everything runs fine. But beneath the surface, the oil thickens and the engine strains. The longer you delay, the more wear builds up.
Our emotional lives work the same way. Avoiding discomfort feels easier in the moment — we just ignore the sadness, numb the anxiety, push away the anger. But over time, that buildup of unprocessed emotion causes strain: in the body, the mind, and our relationships.
Emotions that aren’t acknowledged don’t vanish; they compound. You might notice more frequent headaches, chronic tension, shallow breathing, restlessness, or irritability. Or you might find yourself snapping at your partner, procrastinating at work, or feeling drained without knowing why. These are all signs of emotional oil thickening — systems working harder than they should because they haven’t had a chance to reset.
Why Feeling Our Feelings Matters
When we give emotions space — even uncomfortable ones — several things happen:
Our bodies regulate. The act of naming and feeling our emotions helps the nervous system fully process its stress response rather than being bottlenecked or altogether denied.
Our relationships stabilize. When we’re less reactive to our internal world (because we know what we're feeling, why, and what to do about it) we’re less likely to take it out on others.
Our self-understanding deepens. Feeling discomfort builds trust in ourselves — the sense that we can handle life as it comes, rather than needing to control or avoid it.
This is not about enjoying pain. It’s about recognizing that emotions, like weather patterns, are natural fluctuations. We can’t selectively get rid of the storms; without them, life itself couldn’t thrive. Sometimes, like the Earth, we need a downpour.
From Avoidance to Acknowledgement: A Gradual Shift
If you’ve spent decades surrounded by comfort — emotional, physical, and digital — this shift won’t happen overnight. It’s more like learning to tolerate the heat after years of air conditioning (if you live in Texas, you can imagine the challenge).
It often starts with the faint awareness that you're not noticing something within, even when life looks fine. Then comes the next stage of awareness — realizing how often you reach for your phone, turn on a show, or busy yourself when feelings surface. At first, you might only notice the pattern while doing it. That’s progress.
Next, you’ll experiment with pausing. You might set the phone down and feel the itch of restlessness or boredom. You’ll likely dislike it and probably turn back to comfort pretty quickly. That’s still progress.
After that, you'll have a mixed bag of experiences: sometimes you'll turn to comfort but, every now and then, you'll let the thoughts and feelings wash over without distraction. It'll likely feel weird and unnatural. But, over time, that discomfort becomes less foreign. You might even begin to value the space where insight and recalibration happen.
Sadly, though, this process isn’t linear. You’ll face setbacks — illness, grief, burnout — moments when you want to check out again. You'll find yourself relearning how to choose acceptance and acknowledgement over avoidance. Particularly when things are even more emotionally taxing. Again, this is all progress. These moments are reminders that emotional presence is a lifelong practice, not something you can universally achieve.
Building Distress Tolerance: The Practice of Staying
Like any skill, emotional tolerance grows through small, consistent practice — often in everyday moments. Here are some ways to begin strengthening your ability to stay with uncomfortable emotions:
Name what you feel. Even “I feel overwhelmed and want to check out” is awareness.
Anchor in your body. Notice your breath, your posture, your muscle tension. Your body registers emotion just as your mind does.
Delay your escape. Give yourself 30 seconds before you open the app or turn on the TV. Just a short pause to start shaking the habit of avoidance.
Reframe discomfort. Instead of “something’s wrong,” try “something’s arising.” That small shift invites curiosity instead of judgment. It turns down the fear response and invites exploration.
Create micro-challenges. Let yourself get a little warm before turning down the AC. Try ending your shower with a few seconds of cold water. Choose the harder conversation over silence. Small acts of tolerance build the capacity for larger ones.
The goal isn’t to eliminate comfort — it’s to make space for discomfort, too. The more we do, the more flexible and resilient we become.
The Long-Term Payoff of Facing What Hurts
Sitting with discomfort takes effort — emotional oil changes aren’t convenient. But the maintenance prevents far greater damage down the road. It keeps your system running smoothly, your relationships clearer, and your body more at ease.
And while this work is deeply personal, it doesn’t have to be solitary. Share this article with a family member or friend and practice together. Therapy also offers a space to explore these patterns with guidance and compassion — not to take away your discomfort, but to help you meet it with steadiness.
Because the goal isn’t a life free from discomfort but a life sturdy enough to hold it.