A few weekends ago, I was the most uncomfortable I’ve been all year. I’m still reaping the residual benefits today.
My friend Ali is an avid caver and a member of the National Speleological Society. She has a decade of experience, all the proper gear, and member-exclusive maps. She knows how to navigate the world beneath the one you and I walk on each day.
When Ali offered to guide a caving trip for me and a couple of our most adventurous friends, I said yes before I could form the thoughts to talk myself out of it.
Though I committed, my second-guessing started almost immediately.
In the days leading up to our trip, my mind filled with specific fears and potential embarrassments.
What if I got attacked by a bat? What if I slow everyone down? What if I got stuck in a narrow passage and had to be rescued? What if I become the cautionary tale, the panic-stricken newbie, the liability that puts everyone else in a bad situation?
I trusted Ali and her expertise completely, but trust doesn’t always quiet a frightened imagination.
Still, I went on the trip.
Mud-Covered and Exhilarated
Inside the cave was dark in a way that felt physical. When we all turned off our headlamps, I experienced an unprecedented level of darkness. I could feel the weight of that absence of light.
I expected the darkness, but I didn’t expect to see so much life. There were geckos, cave crickets, spiders, and bats. We traversed puddles and small streams. Plus, we heard steady droplets of water in the distance.
At times, I had to squeeze through body-width gaps or crawl under slabs of immovable rock with mere inches of clearance around me. One moment stands out where my only way to navigate a descent required asking Ali exactly what to do with my hands and feet.
At the start, I was tense and getting more tense with each step further outside of my comfort zone.
And then something shifted.
About an hour in, I realized I had acclimated to the discomfort. I recalibrated enough to actually enjoy the experience. Somewhere along the way, my body had figured out what my brain was too busy catastrophizing to see: I was doing it.
I wasn’t perfect or graceful, but I was caving.
By the time we made it out of our first cave, I was filthy and exhilarated and eager to explore the next cave.
So we did.
Our crew crawled, and scrambled, and reached the natural stopping point of three different caves that weekend.
What I Learned in the Dark & Why I Keep Doing This to Myself
I deliberately seek out opportunities like this caving trip. I don’t recklessly chase down danger, but I consistently expose myself to new, sometimes uncomfortable, experiences.
Throughout my years, I’ve learned the difference between a rewarding challenge and a genuinely bad idea. Through living this way, I’ve witnessed first-hand how moments of discomfort are the rungs to unparalleled levels of personal growth.
Like every challenge before it, that first cave gave me a fresh set of reasons why it’s important to try new things, even if there is potential of failure.
Here are the lessons I gained from this particular venture beyond my comfort zone:
It taught me to ask for help.
I could not have navigated that cave alone. There’s something humbling and quietly liberating about being the least experienced person in the room (or cave).
We live in a culture that treats self-sufficiency like a virtue and dependency like a flaw. But that way of thinking is the real flaw. Asking for help, being vulnerable, and leaning on your village can feel uncomfortable. But when you push past that discomfort a world of rewarding opportunities opens up before you.
It decoupled inexperience from ignorance.
Whether caving or trying to be respectful of someone with a totally different lifestyle than you, it’s important to know how to admit that you don’t know something. This was the most useful reframe I had during my caving experience. Being new to something is not the same as being foolish for trying to understand it. Inexperience is just your starting point.
I had very few technical skills when I climbed into that first cave, but I wasn’t ignorant. I had researched basic safety advice beforehand. I’d chosen a trustworthy guide, and I listened to all her instructions and suggestions. I showed up with an open mind and a willingness to learn. Inexperience is temporary. Refusing to try because you’re inexperienced is what actually keeps you stuck.
It expanded my comfort zone, incrementally.
Caving terrified me during the anticipation phase, but it felt manageable by the end. That discomfort gap doesn’t expand all at once. It grows wider one uncomfortable experience at a time.
I felt physically capable because I’ve been gradually building up my endurance for years. I felt confident I could handle the rock scrambles because I’ve tried bouldering a few times before. I was able to give over control of the situation to my friend because I had put trust in experts during previous adventurous activities. Each small step forward into the unknown makes the next step slightly less daunting.
It reminded me to be flexible.
You cannot be rigid underground. You have to adapt to the shape of the space you’re in, not the space you wish you were in. Plus, my loose hamstrings, mobile hips, and large range of motion meant I could navigate the varied terrain in a way that worked best for me. I was by-far the shortest person on the trip so I had to be creative. I couldn’t always follow the same path as everyone else, but I kept up.
A flexible mind and body make it much easier to navigate a cave as well as daily life.
It deepened my resilience.
I didn’t rely on that abstract, motivational-poster resilience but the kind that comes from experiencing fear and continuing anyway.
It is so empowering to commit to something that pushes you. Every time I do it, I’m reminded that I can do hard things. So I continue to.
How to Start
I understand that, for many people, deliberately seeking discomfort sounds exhausting or implausible. I hope I’ve convinced you that it’s worth it.
Here are three ways you can start to expand your comfort zone.
Start small and slow.
A dozen baby steps over the course of a year will still move you up to unprecedented levels of progress.
Start by still attending a social event when you’d rather stay home. Sign up for a class in something you’re bad at (I took Italian last year). Ask for feedback about something that you’re hesitant to address.
…But recognize when to dive in head-first.
I’ve learned to identify a unique feeling. It’s a sensation that always pops up when the thing I’m avoiding is fear of failure or embarrassment rather than a genuine red flag.
I felt it leading up to the caving trip. I wanted to back out multiple times, not because I was in genuine danger but because I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my cool caving friends. This sensation is always my sign that I need to push through. Just do it (thanks Nike).
When you feel a desire to hesitate or to back out, pay attention to where that desire is coming from. Is your fear or discomfort, because of a genuine danger or is it your ego trying to avoid any potential failure?
Lean on the knowledge of people you trust.
A specific, repeatable strategy is to find your Ali. Find the people who are a few steps ahead of you in the areas where you want to grow, and let them lead.
Ali didn’t just make the cave possible, she made it safe. She has a decade of caving experience and previously explored the caves she took us to.
Not all discomfort has to be faced alone, and there is a world full of experts who are eager to share their knowledge with you.
Conclusion
Somewhere underground, while wearing guano-covered gloves and crawling toward a light I couldn’t see yet, I stopped worrying about what-if’s and just moved forward.
I stopped preparing to be brave and simply was.
That’s the power of discomfort.
Tune in for the next adventure! In the meantime, I’ll be expanding my comfort zone by another inch or two.
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Who is your Ali; The person who’s led you somewhere you couldn’t have gone alone?
Let me know in the comments below!