xi. comfort zones

Comfort zones are severely underrated.

Every time I read or hear about the topic of comfort zones, it has to do with how they’re meant to be broken out of, how they stunt our growth, how we should be pushing ourselves beyond them and reaching new heights in virtually every area of our lives. 

I’m here to make a case about the value of comfort zones. 

I’m probably not the only one who deeply appreciates comfort. 

A blanket with just the right texture, flopping down on a familiar couch with friends or with a pet or with a favorite book, drinking a warm coffee in the morning when it’s cold outside: these things make us feel happy, relieve stress, and provide us with a sense of comfort. 

Comfort is valuable, it is necessary for our well-being, and when we’re hurting or struggling, it is absolutely healing. 

In a recent conversation over the summer with my friend Marija about my new job, I spoke about my eventual plans to also build up my practice as a freelancer. She shared with me a simple and profound wisdom: start at a pace that feels manageable and doesn’t push you to do more than feels good right now. 

I felt a sigh of relief in hearing and internalizing these words: in a world in which many of us feel an almost constant need to prove to others how much we’re producing, the successes we’ve achieved, how well we’re doing etc., the reminder to go at something at a manageable pace was a breath of fresh air. 

From the perspective of an artist undergoing healing, spending time within the warmth of a comfort zone is, I believe, a necessary part of the healing process. 

My experience with my voice has been teaching me the profundity of this.

Throughout the years, I built up a lot of muscular tension in certain parts of my vocal range while singing.

The anxiety and stress I felt when trying to force my voice into a certain box in which it was supposed to work but feeling deeply uncomfortable with the experience led to, in part, the damaging experience I ended up having. 

These muscular patterns and the feeling of discomfort associated with them spanned over years and years of singing. 

They are patterns that I continue to work on to this day and although many things have shifted in positive directions, it continues to be a work-in-progress.

I attribute many of the positive developments I’ve made and healing I have experienced thus far to the warm, familiar realm of my comfort zone. 

A profoundly positive experience I had with singing happened at age 15. 

I sang a solo from Hairspray - Queen Latifah‘s beautiful “I Know Where I’ve Been” - rich, low, and chocolately. 

For whatever reason, I had a lovely, well-developed low vocal range at this relatively a young age. I felt extremely happy with my performance of the song, received wonderful feedback afterward from the audience, and remember indulging in the glowing feeling that one has when one is in one’s element and feels connected to oneself. 

One could say that I felt deeply comfortable within this positive experience.  These types of experiences give us the wings we require to continue to practice and get stronger at the things we love to do.

When, however, we experience traumatic experiences as artists, it can feel as though we lose this momentum, lose the ability to continue what we’re doing in a way that feels positive or even safe, lose our sense of comfort. 

Regaining this feeling of positivity and safety is crucial in order to heal. Extending ourselves too far outside of our comfort zones can be downright counterproductive to this healing process. 

I’ve experienced too many performances to count since this at the age of 15 that left me feeling extremely far from my comfort zone. 

In my experience, repeated instances of this level of discomfort lead to things like burn out, anxiety, extreme stress, self-destructive or self-sabotaging thoughts and/or behaviors, and mental/physical injury. 

If continuing to sing in a way that isn’t healthy for me for the sake of “stepping outside of my comfort zone“, I am doing myself more harm than good.

The danger in pushing the narrative that we can only be fulfilled if we exit our comfort zones, lies in the fact that many artists and performers are perfectionists, constantly striving for new levels of achievement and often willing to sacrifice personal well-being for the sake of the goal. 

What could be a well-meaning piece of advice, when handed to an already self-critical, over-ambitious person can be downright destructive.

I want to be clear that stepping outside of a comfort zone can be a deeply positive thing when it is done from a place of regard from oneself and leads to a result that it is affiliated with positive feelings. If this is the case, I’m all for it! I’ve had a variety of positive experiences stepping outside of my comfort zone in many areas of my life. 

However, the key lies in the motivation for the action and the result it yields. 

If one’s motivation for stepping outside of their comfort zone is self-criticism or a feeling of lack in oneself and the result is exhaustion, injury or anything of the like, then the step was too big and turns out, in my experience, to be harmful. 

What can we do as artists when stepping outside of our comfort zones has left us more depleted and hurt than feeling fulfilled or uplifted? 

In my experience as a singer and a singing teacher, there are ways we can foster a sense of comfort and honor our comfort zones that ultimately allow us to reconnect to our art in a positive way and foster sustainable positive growth.

1. Begin your art-making within the safe space of your comfort zone. 

It’s become increasingly clear to me that my voice is much happier in my upper range when it’s been allowed adequate time to dwell in my lower range. I always begin my practice in the part of voice that feels free from tension, in my literal vocal comfort zone. I have to establish this sense of comfort for myself and my voice at the beginning. I actually feel this is the only way that my voice can function healthily.  

2. If sharing your art with the public, do so in a way that feels comfortable.

If you’re an artist reestablishing your relationship to your art or healing from negative experiences with it, I encourage you to share your art in a way that makes you feel absolutely comfortable! Perform pieces that allow you to dwell within your comfort zone and that feel good, warm, and authentic. Try to avoid feeling like you have to prove anything to anyone in a public way or show every skill you’re working on building. I wish I had learned this lesson sooner, but now that I am learning to apply it more often, I am understanding its value. 

3. Take your time.

My dear friend Flo reminds me often that one cannot rush healing. 

Have patience with yourself, with your art, with what you are able to manage right now. Do what feels good. Trust that you can stretch yourself more when the time is right. 

4. Listen to your body and honor what it’s  communicating.

If you’re feeling good while you’re creating your art, that’s a great sign. If you’re feeling depleted, anxious, or stressed, it’s a sign that you’ve drifted too far from your comfort zone and are headed toward a negative experience. 

5. When you decide to stretch your comfort zone again, start in the place where it feels good 

When you feel good within the realm of your comfort zone and feel like you want to stretch it again, go about it at a sustainable pace and start in a place that feels good: for me that means starting to sing in my low/middle range and working slowly to find the same sensations over my vocal break. When I notice that muscle tension is creeping in again, I know that my comfort zone has been left too soon and then I know I have the option of returning to my comfort zone, getting re-established there, and stretching myself toward the more “unfamiliar” territory again once I’ve re-established the positive, safe feelings of the familiar. 

Comfort zones exist for a reason.  They’re there to show us what feels good, to allow us to celebrate what we can already do well.

Putting ourselves through pain is not a heroic act.

Just as we wouldn’t put a house plant that requires light and twice weekly watering in the dustiest, darkest corner of our apartment and give it water twice a year and still expect it to thrive, putting ourselves in unpleasant situations disguised as attempts to help ourselves grow is counterproductive.

The places in which we feel comfortable are the places in which we can heal. 

Healing is a pre-requisite to growth. 

Healing takes time.

While you’re healing, go to where it feels good.  Make your art. Take a breath. Feel the warmth.

From the place where it feels good, you can grow and find the strength to stretch again.