Leaving the comfort zone


I like my comfort zone. It is my happy place. I am averse to any change in my comfort zone and largely view such as possibly malevolent.

However, I am not deaf to the daily inspirational quotes like, “Do one thing every day that scares you” and it’s ilk.

So, when the chance arose to go to a social media conference at my old university, I jumped at the chance. I bullied my friend into going and forced her to venture into the inner city with me. I took her, protestations aside, to a divine little hipster café called Post in Braamfontein. I highly recommend it.

As the day went by, aside from the tedium of the world’s most boring and poorly organised social media conference, I was proud of our comfort zone exit strategy. I thought it was panning out quite well.

And then I left.


Leaving the boom gates of the university slowly edging forward in the stream of traffic I was pondering my route home, dinner and other issues of existential importance.

Suddenly, from a highway off-ramp, a young man exited at speed across two lanes of traffic to turn (illegally) right. Looking anywhere but the road in front of him he came to an abrupt halt in front of my moving car.

photo 2The whole thing took micro-seconds and my car was consigned to that place wherever cars go when they die.

The air bags exploded.

Good to know that they worked.

Although the little flap that kept it in the steering wheel exited at great speed emblazoning the make of car backwards across my boobs.

At the point of impact all I could think of was the searing pain in my lungs. Whatever that stuff is they put in there is toxic and I ended up heaving on the side of the road.

To add insult to injury, my friend was a few cars back in the traffic and witnessed my explosive booting out from my comfort zone to a place of inexplicable torment.

That was only the start of a week that marked the ending of comfort in every sphere.

10367721_10152222356801116_1025044086248377177_nMy car, followed by the heartbreaking decision to put my beloved Staffie, Billy Bob, to sleep and then a cabinet reshuffle at work.

When once more I am happily ensconced in bigger, better comfort zone, I am not doing any stupid to bring about its demise.

Like spout nonsense about the danger of staying in comfort zones.


3 thoughts on “Leaving the comfort zone

  1. Pingback: Back in the zone | The Blurred Line

  2. I’m not going to click “like” because all that doesn’t sound too good. I’m glad that you’re okay – yay for air bags, regardless of the toxic powder stuff.
    Sorry to hear about your Staffie.

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