Or: why stepping out of our comfort zone isn\u2019t just a step…<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
I recently had a thought-provoking conversation with a friend \u2014 a fellow artist and also a coach for neurodivergent people. We were talking about comfort zones and how, for many autistic people, stepping outside of that comfort zone can feel more like stepping off a cliff than taking a simple step.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He said something that stayed with me: His example was a client who plays electric guitar. One day, he suggested trying an acoustic guitar instead. After all, it\u2019s still a guitar, still music, still strings and sound. But the reaction was immediate and fierce: No<\/em>. No interest. No desire. No way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He couldn\u2019t understand why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So I offered him a metaphor: He laughed and said, “No, thanks. I could fall.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n “But why would you fall?”<\/em> I asked. “You\u2019re not falling now, just sitting on a chair. What makes the edge more dangerous?”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n “Because the risk is real,”<\/em> he said. “And I\u2019d rather not take it.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n And that, I believe, is the essence of what so many autistic people feel \u2014 what I myself often feel. What looks like a small step to someone else \u2014 trying a new instrument, visiting a new place, meeting new people \u2014 might feel like a giant leap into uncertainty for someone whose nervous system has learned, over and over again, that newness equals risk. That unfamiliarity can mean sensory overwhelm, social confusion, miscommunication, rejection, even humiliation. That deviation from what is known can lead to pain, to chaos, to emotional freefall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So no, it\u2019s not just<\/em> an acoustic guitar. It\u2019s the edge of the balcony.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And when you\u2019ve fallen before \u2014 when you\u2019ve burned your fingers, when you’ve walked through social spaces that feel like minefields \u2014 staying on the chair feels wise. It feels earned. It feels like survival.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I suppose what I want to offer here isn\u2019t a tidy solution or a motivational message. I\u2019m not here to say \u201cjust push yourself!\u201d or \u201ceverything good happens outside your comfort zone.\u201d Because sometimes, the comfort zone is where we rest, recover, and reclaim ourselves. Sometimes, it\u2019s where we learn to trust again. And sometimes, we step out \u2014 not because someone told us to, but because we\u2019ve found the inner steadiness to try. Other times, the bravest thing we can do\u2026 is to stay where we are, until we\u2019re truly ready to move.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Or: why stepping out of our comfort zone isn\u2019t just a step…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4050,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[49],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4049","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-autism"],"aioseo_notices":[],"yoast_head":"\n
“I just don\u2019t understand why it’s so scary. I mean, it\u2019s just a small change, right? Something similar. Something potentially joyful. Why the resistance?”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Imagine you’re on my balcony, and you say how lovely it is to sit out there, enjoy the air, look at the view. It\u2019s peaceful. Familiar. Safe. And then I say: why don\u2019t you sit on the edge of the balcony instead? Dangle your legs over the side. It\u2019s still the same view, still the same breeze. Just one small shift. That\u2019s all.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
The world is full of invisible cliffs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s not just<\/em> a change of venue.
It\u2019s not just<\/em> a new group of people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n