“Susan Young is a certified Holistic Life Coach for midlife women. Passionate about the magic of the right brain, she blends coaching with creative processes to help clients tap into their intuition and get to the heart of what matters most, ensuring that their goals (and souls) are 100% aligned. She supports clients through one on one coaching, workshops, and retreats. You can reach her by emailing susan@triplemooncoach.com, visit her online at triplemooncoach.com or fnd her on Instagram @triplemoon_coaching.
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By Susan Young
In the heart of Marrakesh, seated at a long table laden with tangerines and wafting aromatic delights, my discomfort was palpable. Surrounded by a group of 12 artist participants, all connected by history and relationships, I, the lone traveler, introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Susan from Ann Arbor and am here alone.” To which the entire group immediately replied, “No, you’re not?!”
The day would have marked my 27th wedding anniversary had it not been six months after finalizing my divorce. I was a whirlwind of emotions, acknowledging the weight of this date, and reflecting on the seismic shifts in the last several years of my life. There was grief, yes, but also an unusual serenity, coupled with a tingling anticipation for the trip ahead. I would forge connections with remarkable creatives from around the world—breaking bread together, savoring farm-to-table delicacies lovingly crafted by a master chef. My soul would be nourished by the camaraderie, the awe-inspiring scenery, the sketches, paintings, lessons, and the rich tapestry of culture.
While I couldn’t have imagined the life affirming experience that unfolded, I certainly wouldn’t have fathomed that the discomfort (and pain) of the events leading up to this point, were a mere precursor to what lay ahead.
My journey through discomfort began earnestly in 2015 when I decided to stop drinking and sought therapy for the first time at the age of 49. This seemingly small step set off seismic shifts, ultimately leading to the dissolution of my 26-year marriage in the summer of 2020, coinciding with the onset of a global pandemic, lock down, and an empty nest.
Within weeks, I transitioned from being a spouse and mother in our 25-year home to solitary living in a nondescript apartment by the mall. Meanwhile, the shutdown of manufacturing in Michigan led to a 30% layoff for the commercial interiors company where I worked as a workplace consultant. I was grateful to be among the 70%. While no furniture was being produced, pending projects were left unfinished, and remaining employees were left scrambling to manage the aftermath remotely. As was the case for most of us, I settled into a new normal. Before long, I left the apartment and bought a house.
During the pandemic’s lockdown, the rediscovery of long-abandoned art supplies from design school for art journaling became a creative outlet and frankly, a lifeline. As my practice evolved beyond journaling, I set up a studio space in my new home, tapped into the local artistic community, co-founded a local chapter of Urban Sketchers, and settled into a new post-growth normal. Yet, amidst this creative contentment, the realization that my job had become a source of dread prompted a soul-searching quest for meaningful work. The idea of becoming a life coach for women emerged, leading me to enroll in a holistic, ICF-certified coach training program which opened up new avenues of expansion and growth. The process became a healing journey connecting me with like-minded individuals globally. Recognizing the impossibility of juggling a demanding job, coach certification, and a start-up, I made a bold (some might say crazy) decision to resign and dedicate my efforts to my business and the next chapter in my life.
The decision to resign from a 26-year career marked the inception of a new, advanced-level, discomfort-laden journey into entrepreneurship. Although I understood, intellectually, the stark differences between employment and self-employment, the experiential learning hit it home. Launching a service-based business is not an anonymous introvert-friendly endeavor. It means having to define publicly who I am, what I do, how I do it, and why. Authenticity and passion felt rewarding, but the vulnerability of being the face (and product) of my business posed a personal challenge. The gap between intellectual understanding and emotional confrontation became apparent as I faced procrastination and resistance. Worries about external judgments and the fear of disappointing others, past issues I believed to have long ago overcome, resurfaced.
As I processed often contradictory business and marketing advice from various sources, I became overwhelmed to the point of paralysis. Again, being forced to reckon with patterns I believed to be behind me, I realized the importance of filtering advice through my own intuition, a process I’ve honed and equally importantly, learned to trust. I developed a neutrality to incoming advice, regardless of how qualified and well-intended the source may be, so that I can make my own assessment on what feels right, what to apply, and what to set aside.
We carry so much wisdom in our intuition, or Sixth sense. Our gut sends our brain 90% more messages than the reverse. For many, practices like meditation, yoga, free writing, and creative processes allow us to get quiet enough to connect with our gut, and more importantly, listen to what it’s telling us.
From my experiences, I’ve come to recognize three distinct types of discomfort and three ways in which it can manifest, each associated with different levels of vulnerability and unease.
Confronting something new and unfamiliar: slightly scary, yet promising personal growth. It encourages us to take a leap, despite the fear, as a path to growth.
A mismatch with core beliefs arises from attempting something not aligned with core beliefs or identity. Filtering the input through a gut check is essential to avoid unproductive discomfort. For instance, adopting marketing strategies at odds with one’s personality or integrity is destined to fail due to the lack of authenticity.
Massive Discomfort entails venturing beyond the outer edges of your discomfort zone, potentially leading to trauma. This type is easier to avoid, as the body naturally resists it. However, coercive situations can force individuals into this zone against their will.
The Loss of Something Familiar propels you into a new reality. Divorce, for example, whether initiated or received. Inaction can also cause the loss of something familiar, such as dropping out of college by failing to register for the next semester’s classes or experiencing natural life phases like grown children leaving home.
The Bravery of Taking Deliberate Action intentionally pushes yourself out of your comfort zone. This could include volunteering, signing up for challenging activities, saying yes to a party or date, or embarking on solo adventures.
The Generative Act of Creation encompasses the daunting action of creation, a broad category that includes writers, musicians, artists, chefs, event planners, and entrepreneurs, to name a few. Beyond a brave moment, or singular event, building something over time or working in a continual state of creation demands discipline, grit, and continual effort. In my experience, the vulnerability that’s required for creating anything and putting it out into the world is deep and raw because what is created becomes a reflection of your most authentic self-expression. The discomfort here is inherent in the cyclical process of growth and evolution, challenging the notion of comfort as a destination, and emphasizing discomfort as the price of growth.
From facing my past, to dining with soon-to-be dear friends in Marrakesh, to the challenges of entrepreneurship, embracing the uncomfortable has led me to a place of authenticity, resilience, fulfillment, and the unwavering belief that sometimes, the most uncomfortable paths lead to the most extraordinary destinations.
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In the heart of Marrakesh, seated at a long table laden with tangerines and wafting aromatic delights, my discomfort was palpable. Surrounded by a group of 12 artist participants, all connected by history and relationships, I, the lone traveler, introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Susan from Ann Arbor and am here alone.” To which the entire group immediately replied, “No, you’re not?!”