The Drug that Affects Us All

Shaping our choices and our lives...

“A ship in a harbour is safe, but that’s not what a ship is built for.”

~ John Augustus Shedd

I recently visited my hometown in India and spent close to four weeks there. Though only two years had passed since my last visit, it felt much longer—perhaps because my life in Australia had changed so much. Amidst the joy of being with family, the nostalgia of reconnecting with childhood friends, the incredible food, and the new memories I made, being home offered me an unexpected perspective on my life, both in India and, more importantly, in Australia.

There were moments of deep internal conflict. In Canberra, I had my routine—my job, friends, and daily habits - everything structured, predictable, and familiar. Suddenly stepping away from that into the chaos of India felt jarring. The relentless traffic, the noise, the sheer unpredictability of everyday life felt foreign, even though I had once called it home. At times, I resented the lack of structure, yet in the same breath, I felt immense gratitude for my roots, my family, and the sense of belonging I had there. This internal conflict led me to ask myself:

“What was really at play here?”

Eventually, I found my answer: a drug I had been slowly consuming without realising it. For better or for worse.

The drug we don’t talk about

Ask someone about their views on drugs, and you’ll likely get a range of reactions. For some, drugs are a scourge - causing addiction, chaos, and crime. For others, they offer a temporary refuge from life’s struggles. Like most substances, not all drugs are built the same. Chemical structure, ease of access, legality, and societal acceptance are just a few variables that make these substances different from each other.

But the drug I’m talking about here isn’t a substance, nor is it illegal. It’s not something we consume, and it’s certainly not hard to access. Some believe this drug is necessary; others see it as a silent killer of ambition and growth. It was at the root of my internal conflict, shaping how I felt about both India and Australia.

Let’s talk about comfort.

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The double-edged sword

Comfort is an essential part of life. It provides stability, security, and a sense of belonging. Biologically, we’re wired to seek comfort because it makes us feel good - staying warm in the cold, eating when we’re hungry, avoiding stress. Our brains register discomfort as a survival threat, pushing us to seek safety.

But everything has a threshold. Beyond a certain point, comfort stops being beneficial and becomes a trap - leading to stagnation, complacency, and, ultimately, dissatisfaction.

This raises an important question: How much comfort is too much?

Comfort manifests in multiple areas of life:

• Work & career: Staying in a stable job despite feeling unchallenged, avoiding risks that could lead to growth. A part of us might feel bored, but another part feels safe knowing there’s a steady paycheck.

• Relationships: Staying in a relationship that’s comfortable but lacks passion or depth, avoiding difficult conversations that could strengthen the bond. Breaking up means navigating the dating world again—an exhausting thought. (I’ve explored this in my article here.)

• Personal growth: Sticking to familiar routines instead of pushing ourselves to learn new skills or take on new challenges. Familiarity feels safe, but over time, it can lead to resentment and a craving for something more. (I’ve written about this in this article.)

• Physical comfort: Avoiding discomfort in small ways—skipping workouts, overindulging in food, or resisting new experiences—all of which have long-term consequences. Our brains prioritise short-term pleasure over long-term benefit, making comfort feel ‘right’ even when it holds us back.

And so on.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

In my case, comfort and convenience have been at the heart of my life in Canberra. I have a stable job, a circle of friends I can rely on, and a predictable routine. Zooming in even further, I have fast internet, meaning everything loads instantly. I’m surrounded by open-minded people who can engage in meaningful conversations. Canberra’s small size and planned layout mean shorter commutes, minimal traffic, and some of the cleanest air in the world.

Having become accustomed to this lifestyle, I rarely think about how dependent I’ve grown on it. The moment something disrupts my comfort—an uncertain job situation, a lonely weekend, slow internet, being around judgmental people, long commutes, or polluted air—it feels foreign and undesirable.

In short, the more we immerse ourselves in comfort, the more any instance of unfamiliarity feels like suffering.

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How much is too much?

There are two types of comfort:

1. Intentional comfort - strategically used to recharge.

2. Passive comfort - which lulls us into stagnation.

Intentional comfort is like taking a rest day after intense workouts, knowing your muscles need recovery. Passive comfort is skipping the gym entirely, convincing yourself that “rest days are important” when it’s been three weeks.

The same applies to life. Choosing a stable job because it aligns with your long-term goals is intentional. Staying in that job for years, despite feeling unfulfilled, because ‘change is scary’ is passive. One fuels growth; the other numbs ambition.

But recognising this isn’t always easy. Comfort is deeply ingrained in our biology. The real question we should ask ourselves is:

“Am I here - personally and professionally - because of genuine contentment? Or because I fear discomfort?”

It’s unrealistic to expect life to be pleasurable all the time. Work, relationships, and responsibilities all have their ups and downs. When I feel resentful about my situation, I ask myself:

“What’s stopping me from changing?”

Is it genuine contentment, or am I avoiding the discomfort of the unknown?

Many people fantasise about quitting their jobs to travel the world, yet few actually take the plunge. The emotional side says, “Just quit.” The rational side says, “You have bills to pay - maybe later.” This cycle keeps us trapped in passive comfort, postponing change indefinitely.

For better or worse, discomfort is the catalyst for growth. Whether it’s working out, pushing ourselves at work, or stepping into the unknown, growth rarely happens in comfort.

That’s why every self-help book harps on habit formation, deep work, and overcoming procrastination. The key isn’t to go from 0 to 100 overnight but to introduce small doses of discomfort into daily life. These ‘sprinkles of discomfort’ help rewire our brains, reminding us that life doesn’t always go as planned - and maybe that’s a good thing.

So, quitting your job impulsively might not be wise, but evaluating whether it aligns with your long-term interests is. From there, small steps - updating your resume, applying for jobs, preparing for interviews - gradually break the cycle of passive comfort.

The same applies to other areas. If life feels monotonous, introducing new experiences - whether it’s reading a different genre, trying a new hobby, or joining a social group—can reignite curiosity.

Not every problem requires a dramatic solution. Some need a sudden leap; others need slow, intentional change. But in both cases, discomfort is the key.

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What about loved ones?

Like most areas of life, things get tricky when loved ones are involved. You can’t always expect to change them, nor is it always easy to cut them off when times get tough. Take, for example, a stagnant romantic relationship. You’ve been together for years, things are fine on paper - house, marriage, kids, families involved, the usual jazz - but deep down, you feel like you’re stagnating. This may call for an uncomfortable but necessary conversation with your partner. If they feel the same way, great - you’re on the same page and can work toward a solution together. But if they dismiss your concerns with an “I think everything is fine,” then you’re in a pickle.

What do you do?

Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

I recently spoke about complacency. Falling into a monotonous routine can breed resentment over time if left unchecked. This is another example of how comfort can quietly take hold. Early in a relationship, we invest time, effort, and money - partly to impress our partner, partly because we fear losing them. But once the honeymoon phase fades, so does the urgency to put in effort.

Appearance, health, hygiene - things we once prioritised may take a backseat because it’s easier. Losing interest due to neglect is easy. Breaking up because of it is hard. And the longer a relationship lasts, the harder it gets - kids, financial ties, friendships, and families get intertwined, making separation even more complicated.

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So what do we do?

Seeking comfort is natural. Getting too comfortable is not. The key is recognising when comfort starts working against you and intentionally introducing discomfort where it matters.

Occasional sips of discomfort can go a long way. The recipe depends on which part of life you're trying to improve.

1. The drink of health (if you want to get fitter):

   • Hitting the gym after a long break

   • Trying a new sport with friends

   • Giving Pilates or Yoga a shot (they’re not just for women)

   • Choosing a walk over another night on the couch

   • Resisting the urge for that extra pizza slice

2. The drink of work (if you want to perform better):

   • Reflecting on what you enjoy about your job

   • Learning a new tool, skill, or software

   • Volunteering to help a colleague or mentor someone

   • Enrolling in a course to level up

3. The drink of sociability (if you want a better social life):

   • Saying "yes" to invites more often

   • Suggesting places and plans instead of waiting for others

   • Joining a club, meetup, or social activity that interests you

   • Attending local events - gigs, markets, networking meetups

   • Starting a casual conversation with someone new

4. The drink of love (if you want to strengthen relationships):

   • Having difficult but necessary conversations

   • Doing something thoughtful for your partner or loved ones

   • Reflecting on your behaviour during conflicts

   • If you’re single, put yourself out there. Maybe even try speed dating

These are just a few recipes - discomfort comes in many forms. The trick isn’t to drown in it but to sip it in doses. If life is ten sips, take eight of comfort and two of discomfort. Each sip of discomfort makes you stronger, more adaptable, and more resilient.

And when you get comfortable... raise the dose. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

Final thoughts

Comfort is neither good nor bad - it depends on how we use it. When intentional, it’s a tool for stability and recovery. When passive, it quietly dulls ambition and limits growth.

So, the real challenge isn’t avoiding comfort altogether but recognising when it stops serving us. And when that happens, the question isn’t whether we should step into discomfort, but whether we’re willing to.