I had a conversation with a coworker the other day that left my face burning with shame. I realized, quite suddenly, how comfortable I’ve become. I was caught complaining about the mundane — tasks I didn’t like. Clients who were too difficult. Other coworkers and their duplicitous ways.
He didn’t bother stopping my rant, but also didn’t fan the flames. Instead, he told me what was on his plate. By comparison, I realized my woes were entirely unimportant. I was creating my own unhappiness.
Sometimes I do this: I manifest problems. I make relationships more difficult than they need to be. I go on a subconscious hunt for something that isn’t acceptable so I can fulfill my juvenile need for drama and conflict. I pick fights.
Don’t ask why; I just have to hope realization is the first step to change. Other than my grandparents’ health, my life has never been better. I’ve got a job I secretly love. It isn’t public health, but it is so challenging I can barely keep up. I live in a place that takes my breath away when I arrive from the natural beauty. I’m loved by a tiny furry pooch who makes me feel like the best thing since squirrels.
Life is really good.
Today I’m thankful for those tasks, clients and coworkers. The burning embarrassment of realizing I have nothing to complain about. Knowing being comfortable means it’s time to shake things up.