The Unprecedented Life: Dissecting the Meaning of Comfort and Boredom


Do you ever find yourself in the midst of excitement, inspiration, or just pure happiness and all of a sudden, not know what to do with yourself? Like suddenly you are ready to fly off the roof, dance around your apartment, sing in your shower, write that chapter, make that craft, or do that thing you were wanting to do for so long, but you just don’t know where to begin? You get so caught up in the emotion of it all that you reach a place of odds within yourself and start to wonder, ‘what now?’

I find the “what nows” to be the most problematic questions of them all. It begins the ever-looping game of self-destruction: a game that simply cannot be won. And most often, when you find yourself there, it becomes another tactic of foreboding joy. Fear is sneaky that way. It takes on many masks. It encloses you into a world of stagnancy and the possibility of a life outside of the one you are living becomes more and more distant. The funny thing is, in conversation, we have shaped this notion into something else entirely, only so we are able to justify why we are living in such a way. Suddenly boredom has become comfort.

So let’s talk about it. What exactly is comfort? Well, it’s defined as a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint.

Boredom, on the other hand, is defined as to tire or make weary by being dull, repetitious, or uninteresting.

The first point I’d like to make is that I have absolutely no idea how these two words began to encompass the same state of being. And second, I would argue that neither of these are bad places to be. Before you think I’m a lunatic, just hear me out for a minute!

I think boredom has a purpose, but not the one we’re conventionally used to understanding. Rob Bell says it perfectly in his podcast, where he explains that we used to have small gaps in our lives. Maybe the moments we were waiting in the doctor’s office for our checkup or waiting for your food to arrive at a restaurant, walking to work, etc. It’s in these moments where we have some free time to actually reflect and process what is going on with us. And within those moments of boredom, creativity is often born. Nowadays, however, we find ourselves filling those gaps with checking our phones, our email, texting, scrolling. We don’t have that same time to process, reflect, and digest our days. It’s such an insightful podcast and I’d definitely recommend giving it a listen!


When we talk about comfort, what I understand of it is that we are talking about an acceptance and a sense of knowing. Comfort does not always have to mean a sense of familiarity, though it can. But it can also mean knowing yourself completely and therefore, knowing what and who you need to surround yourself with, what you need at any given moment, and how to be still with yourself. Comfort means accepting where you are right now and encompassing this state of relaxation with your present self and this present moment.

When we dissect both of these words, we can understand that neither of them have the intention to create mundane lives for us. Neither of them are a war for us to battle. Both, however, do facilitate growth in some way, shape, or form.

When we ask the question of “what now?”, we’re talking in a place of dissatisfaction with our present state. We’re talking from a place where we haven’t gotten the chance to fully reflect on our days and ourselves. And we haven’t given our lives a chance to prove what the purpose of these moments are. Because if we were all to look back, there is a very distinct and subtle way in which the trajectory of our lives led us to who we were meant to become.

And something I continuously remind myself in moments where I step out of this comfort is a word by Hagrid, who once said, “What’s coming will come, and we will meet it when it does.”

The Gravity of Knowing: A Home I’ve Never Been To


“The only way to know what the next right thing is, is to get very still, block out all the voices from the world and go inside yourself. There is a knowing that rises inside of us when we get quiet enough. Some call it God, others call it intuition or wisdom. It doesn’t matter what you call it—it only matters that you know how to tap into it. To me, it feels more like gravity settling in than words I can hear. This is the new revolution for women: To stop explaining our damn selves. Just do the next right thing, one thing at a time. That’ll take us all the way home.”

– Glennon Doyle Melton

It came to me in a whisper, unrecognisable because my voice usually speaks to me in panic. It’s usually loud and difficult to tune out. It’s not the nicest voice but it likes to tell me its rational and I’m not. So this was different for me. It was simultaneously soothing and terrifying.

A coworker and good friend of mine was telling me about her new potential job in Toronto. She’s been in the same little rut I’ve been in and this new opportunity presented itself in such a quick manner that she’s picking up her things and moving there next week. I think I may have picked up something that was in her when she spoke. She was vibrant and excited and scared and I was so excited for her. And then it happened. I heard myself telling her I planned to move to Vancouver in September when my sublet lease was done.

Vancouver was always in the back of my head. Being alongside beautiful nature, a province that is striving to be the most environmentally friendly and sustainable in the world by 2020. The healthy lifestyle. Being able to experience the life of a city and also secluding myself towards nature when I need a retreat. Everything has always drawn me there, but I always thought I would move abroad first. My plan was always to stay in this small town so I could save up enough to move abroad for two years and travel. Maybe I’d settle down in Vancouver afterwards, when I had travelled enough to want to stay in one place for a long time.

But I heard myself saying something different and I didn’t know if it was a lie or if something in me just wanted to match that spark in her. But once our conversation was over, I took myself aside so I could see what was really going on and that’s when I heard it. The quiet voice. The one I never heard before. The one that felt so outside of me but also completely within. And it told me that Vancouver was next and that Europe and travel and seeing the rest of the world, that would come too. But this is next. Something is there.

I’ve talked a bit about the gravity of knowing here before. It’s something I’m trying to learn to listen to more often. It’s something I’m trying to learn to pay attention to. It’s difficult when our ego is so loud and takes up most of the room. But when I heard it, I told myself I needed to listen to it. Or at the very least, explore the idea.

The first thing that popped into my head was how expensive this would be. The move itself would be pricey and then living there would be too. What if I couldn’t find a job? What if I’m just being impulsive? What if. What if. What if.

And then I told that voice to quiet down, in a motherly tone. I was still at work so sorry to customers who might have passed by me and heard me talking to myself. It must have been weird. But anyways, I knew I had to listen to this, because from my experience, this voice, this whisper, this gravity is a clue. It’s a knowing.

I went over to my store manager and asked him if we could talk about something privately and brought him this plan I had yet to figure out and that’s when I knew even more. By the way his eyes lit up at the idea. How excited he was for me. How eager he became to help me and support me with this move in any way he could. The way he told me he’d get me a secure job with one of our stores in Vancouver and how he’ll get me a raise and probably a promotion there. He told me to email him a preference list of which area I’d want to work in Vancouver because with his recommendation, the stores will be fighting for me. All I felt in that moment was complete gratitude. I’m so grateful to be surrounded with so much love and so much respect and with managers and coworkers who value one another’s work ethic.

When I told my mom, her eyes watered down so quickly with joy, and then I did the thing I feared: I called my dad. Our relationship has been pretty non-existant but we’re both trying to slowly create something. We’re both trying to learn about each other the way we never got to when I was growing up. I wasn’t expecting him to have the response he did, but it was the first time I’d seen any emotion flutter his face other than anger. It was just happiness and all of a sudden, he was willing to do anything to help me move there. He was willing to help me apartment hunt and he was willing to take the trip up there with me in July to put a deposit down on a place and to explore a city I’d call home even though I’ve never been there.

Because I listened to that small voice that told me this crazy thing that was outside of my plan, it brought everyone together. It connected me further with my work family. It brought me this new bond with my dad that I’ve never had before. And it also brings me more uncertainty than ever.

Moving to another province that’s a five-hour flight (or a 4-5 day drive) from where I live, a place I’ve never been to, is a terrifying and exhilarating thought. It’s something I never really imagined myself doing, at least not yet. I was supposed to be saving more for abroad. I was supposed to be doing a lot of other things. But because I listened to this thing, because I paid attention to it and gave it room to speak, I found myself right in the center of where I needed to be.

When things align like this, you have to remind yourself to be more grateful than afraid. I’m afraid because all the money I have saved so far is now going towards this move and a new place instead of abroad. I’m afraid because that city is far more expensive that my current one. I’m afraid because I don’t know anyone there. I’m afraid because I’ve never even been there.

But I know this is it. I know there is something there for me. I know that because I’ve learned to trust that voice. I know that because just putting this idea out there has brought a lot of people in my life together to help me and support me in this transition. I know that it’s just a few months away and there’s a lot to do, but I also know that it’s completely worth it.

I know that because this is the feeling I’ve been craving for so long. This is a challenge I’ve been asking for. Something that’s exciting and scary and brings me closer to something far bigger than me.

I’m excited for September and I’m excited for Vancouver. I’m excited about this change and I’m excited to see what’s in store for me. I believe that energy transfers and flows and I know that something in me clicked with the energy my friend had.

When in doubt, stubbornly trust yourself. The small voice knows more than the loud one.


Justifying Departure: It Doesn’t Have to be Bad to Not Work


Yesterday I turned 21. It’s funny because I’ve never felt different on my birthdays – not older, smarter, wiser – nothing, until my 20th. I remember that day clearly. The resistance I felt as soon as midnight came and I had entered a new decade of my life. For reasons I wasn’t able to explain at the time, I didn’t feel the beginning of something new as much as I felt the end of something else. I felt like I was in mourning that entire day when I was supposed to be celebrating. I kept wondering whether this was some sort of quarter-life crisis or if I was one of those weird people who thought that turning 20 meant that I was ‘getting old’. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

But sometimes our bodies know more than our minds can explain at the time. Now that I’ve completed the age of 20, I understand that what I felt at the time was a mourning of who I once was and who I will no longer pretend to be. It was a letting go of bad habits and a year of complete and sudden transformation characterized by my unlearning.

The thing about shattering completely and breaking off into pieces is that when you do go and put them back together, you don’t always place them in the same spots as before. All of a sudden you’ve used all these pieces of yourself to create something new. It’s a really beautiful thing, but it also comes with its own set of consequences.

Sometimes when you’re new, when your pieces are placed differently, you no longer fit with the old. That could be friendships, relationships, jobs, interests, hobbies, and so on. That doesn’t mean there necessarily had to be anything wrong with them and that also doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with you. It just means some things won’t fit. No logical explanation, no event of heartbreak; It just doesn’t work anymore.

I think that’s been the hardest thing for me – not understanding why some things won’t work in my life even when there was nothing inherently wrong with them. I suppose for me at least, it’s much easier when there is some clear problem in the person or the thing, that I can categorize as solvable or unsolvable. But when something worked just fine, and then all of a sudden it doesn’t, and you can’t pinpoint any reason why, that’s when it becomes frustrating.

Glennon Doyle Melton, author of Love Warrior and human being that I talk about constantly, discussed the gravity of knowing. When I first heard that, it made complete sense to me because that is exactly what it is. You often hear people talking about listening to a voice that calls to you or something along those lines, but I find that those loud voices are just the noise of fear. Sometimes, you just know something to be true and that typically doesn’t come from a voice; it’s like a form of gravity that grounds you in truth.

These days, the fear banter has taken up more room for me. This haunting of why something that was so good, no longer works. I’m waiting for some reason to hit me with why the time is up for this relationship and I’m not going to lie, the both of us are still fighting for it to somehow work by learning how to reconstruct the entire friendship. Maybe we will manage and maybe (I write with an extreme hesitation) we won’t. The knowing is that what once was, will no longer work. That could mean that our friendship could flourish into something entirely new, or turn into my biggest fear of it not working at all.

I guess I’m just so used to things manifesting into their ugly truths before departing from them. But sometimes, things don’t have to be bad for them to not work. Some things don’t work anymore because they don’t work anymore. There’s no logical explanation and there’s no fateful event. And sometimes, we just have to learn to trust that and let go of what once was.