I was talking with some young leaders recently who, by almost any measure, would be considered high achievers. They are talented, driven, thoughtful and already accomplishing things that would make a lot of people proud.
We started talking about what they wanted next: their careers, their goals and some of the decisions in front of them. As the conversation went on, I noticed one word kept coming up: comfortable. This option would be more comfortable. That path would give them more comfort. They wanted to get to a place where life felt comfortable.
I hadn’t realized until that conversation how much the word bothered me. They could see it on my face. Eventually, one of them challenged me on it, which I loved. They genuinely wanted to know what I had against being comfortable.
I had to think about it because there is nothing inherently wrong with comfort. I want my family to be comfortable. I want financial security. There are comforts in my life today that I worked very hard to create, and I’m grateful for them. Comfort can be the result of good decisions. I just don’t think it should be the standard by which we make them.
When I look back at most of the things in my life that were worth building, very few of them were comfortable while I was building them. Starting businesses wasn’t comfortable. Leading when I didn’t have all the answers wasn’t comfortable. Having conversations I knew could change relationships wasn’t comfortable. Making decisions when there was no guarantee they would work wasn’t comfortable. Neither was becoming the person capable of handling those things.
That’s what I told those young leaders. Don’t spend your life searching for the most comfortable path. Learn to become comfortable being uncomfortable. One way of living teaches you to back away whenever something gets hard. The other teaches you that hard doesn’t necessarily mean wrong.
Comfort becomes dangerous when it stops being something we enjoy and becomes something we protect. Without realizing it, we start organizing our decisions around avoiding disruption. We avoid a conversation because it might create tension. We stay with what we’ve always done because changing would require too much. Before long, we’re holding on to something that worked five years ago even though we know it isn’t working anymore.
I’ve seen leaders do this, and I’ve done some version of it myself. Sometimes we call it patience or say we’re being strategic. We tell ourselves the timing isn’t right, and sometimes that’s true. Other times, if we’re willing to be honest with ourselves, we’re just uncomfortable with what the next decision requires from us.
That’s especially dangerous now because the world isn’t going to slow down to protect our comfort. Technology is changing how we work. Industries and organizations are changing, and the skills that made us successful yesterday may not be enough tomorrow. We don’t have to chase everything new, but we do have to be willing to learn and adapt.
Good leaders also need convictions. There should be some things about us that don’t change every time the environment changes. But I’ve learned that sometimes what we call conviction is really familiarity. We aren’t standing firm because something is right. We’re standing still because it’s what we know.
There is almost always opportunity somewhere inside change, but opportunity doesn’t always look like opportunity when it first shows up. Sometimes it looks like disruption or losing control. If your first question is always, “How do I get things back to the way they were?” you may miss what the moment is trying to teach you.
Comfort can also affect who we allow to challenge us. This gets harder as you become more successful. When you’re talented and capable, people start looking to you for answers. Eventually, you can build a life where everybody needs something from you and almost nobody tells you when you’re wrong.
I need people in my life who aren’t overly impressed with what I’ve accomplished. I need people who can hear one of my ideas and say, “Henry, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” If everybody around you agrees with you, I wouldn’t automatically assume you’ve become that wise. I would start wondering whether people still feel comfortable telling you the truth.
I also told those young leaders to decide what standard they wanted to live by. Years ago, I worked with someone whose instinct, whenever expectations increased, was to find the lowest acceptable standard. He wasn’t lazy, and I don’t think he lacked ability. But he was constantly looking for the place where he could remain comfortable. What was the easiest way we could do this? What was the minimum required? How much could be expected without requiring too much from him?
One day he said to me, “You’re looking down on me because I don’t have your ambition.” I paused because that wasn’t really what bothered me. I told him, “It’s not your lack of ambition. It’s the lack of a consistent standard.”
That distinction has stayed with me because ambition wasn’t really the issue. I don’t think everybody should build a company, lead an organization, chase a promotion or pursue some enormous professional goal. There is nothing noble about being ambitious just for the sake of being ambitious. What bothered me was watching the standard change whenever meeting it became uncomfortable.
We have to be honest about the relationship between what we say we want and what we’re willing to do to get there. You can’t keep wanting the outcome while resenting everything the outcome requires from you. Your standard should line up with your goals, your values, your responsibilities to the people you love and the kind of person you hope to become. Don’t keep renegotiating that standard every time following it gets difficult.
Hearing those young leaders talk made me think about how easy it is to confuse a good life with an easy one. They have enormous potential, but potential doesn’t remove the hard parts of becoming who you’re capable of becoming. Some of the most important moments in our lives come when comfort is telling us to leave things alone and something deeper inside us knows we can’t.
The older I get, the more I realize that some of the hardest choices aren’t really about ambition at all. They’re about responsibility. There are conversations we have because someone deserves the truth from us, decisions we make because the people we lead shouldn’t have to keep paying the price for our indecision, and sacrifices we make because people we love are depending on us. Sometimes doing what is right will cost us something.
Comfort isn’t the enemy, but it makes a terrible compass. There will be seasons when life gives you room to breathe. Enjoy them and be grateful for them. Rest is important, and peace matters. You don’t need to manufacture struggle just to prove you’re serious.
But don’t build your life around avoiding discomfort. Get clear about what matters to you. Be willing to change when change is required. Keep people around you who will tell you the truth. Decide what standard you’re going to live by, and stop lowering it every time it costs you something.
You can enjoy comfort without needing comfort. When life inevitably asks more of you, you’ll have learned how to be comfortable being uncomfortable.
