I believe that discomfort is a teacher, a guide. I don’t always remember that I believe this, but I do.
I believe in staring the cranky, the self-doubt, the irritation, the frustration, the hurt in the face and asking the question, “What are you trying to tell me?”
To be clear, I don’t always practice this and I certainly don’t always practice it perfectly. Sometimes it takes hours and it sometimes it takes days of wiggling and stomping and even ugly venting before I get back to the place where I ought to have started, which is with that question. “What are you trying to tell me?”
It turns out I almost always know the answer.