Last summer my husband and I had the delightful experience of visiting Norway where we learned the Danish word hygge (hyoo-guh). Hygge is roughly translated as the coziness, contentment, and connection we feel when we are safe. At ease. Think about sinking into warm candlelight, shared laughter, and a fluffy blanket before a toasty fire all at the same time. Or invent your own experience. Hygge avoids challenge. Invites peace. Nurtures stillness and belonging and gratitude for life’s simplest pleasures. It is an awakening comfort where we are present to a spiritual, bodily, and emotional restoration.
In times of chaos, how many of us are tempted to retreat into our comfort zones?
What is a comfort zone? We talk about it as if it is the most desirable place in the world? Is it? Is it the same as hygge? What are our alternatives?
We understand intuitively that comfort zones are spaces where we feel safe and in control. They are familiar places. Not only physical locations, but safe, familiar emotional places. This is where our routines, habits, and the abilities we are confident in live. Life feels predictable here. Whatever comes up, we’ve got it.
Inside the comfort zone, we know what to expect so our stress and anxiety levels are lower. We can operate on autopilot. Just like flying a plane on autopilot, there is mastery. We are seldom challenged.
This place of low stress and little to rock our lives sounds delightful. We rest. We recover. And we experience a security that we never feel out there. Our current comfort zone serves us well, but it encompasses our behaviors and patterns from our past. Habits we have built up. Routines we have honed.
What happens if we stay in here too long? We begin to feel stuck and stagnant. Our life feels unfulfilled. Flat. Kind of like the feelings many of us experienced after months of a diminished life during the pandemic. At first we were happy to be home from work or working from home. We baked bread, played board games, hunkered down together in our homes (1). We took online classes, started practicing piano or finally studied that new language we’ve been meaning to learn. Dragged that one-quarter finished novel out of the bottom of the drawer. I would guess all but a few of us felt stuck and unfulfilled at some point. We stopped growing and got bored with creating. Our sourdough starter fizzled out along with our motivation. Our comfort zone was no longer comfortable because it had been infiltrated by a new kind of stress and anxiety. Our comfort zone becomes a contained comfort that traps rather than connects us.
This is an extreme example by any measure.
In a more “normal” world, psychologists like to divide our level of comfort into three zones (2). Our comfort zone is one of safety and familiarity. The growth zone is the place where we learn, take risks and discover new things. And the panic zone is the place where stress becomes so overwhelming, it shuts down learning and discovery.
We can think of the zones using a circle in the sand. Inside the circle is everything we know. The people we know, our skills and abilities, our routines, and all the places that are familiar to us are inside this big circle. In here, life is warm. We feel steady and safe. We know where the edges are. Nothing surprises us.
Just beyond the circle lies the Unknown. New experiences, unconsidered possibilities, and parts of ourselves we have not yet met live here. This growth zone is dynamic. When we push up against it, we feel alert. We have butterflies in our stomachs and the kind of excitement tinged with fear that makes our skin tingle. We are focused and engaged. Despite setbacks, we gain confidence on the back of small wins. This is where flow lives. In this zone, it can feel like stepping into cold water. It is uncomfortable at first, but our bodies eventually adjust. Every time we step outside the original sand circle, it widens a little. Our comfort zone expands.
What happens if we wander too fast? What if we fail to learn the lessons the growth zone has to teach us? We don’t pick up valuable tools so are ill-equipped for widening the growth zone. We discover things we are unprepared to discover. We smack into the panic zone. Life feels overwhelming. It feels like being thrown into deep water before we know how to swim. We learn nothing from this experience except that we cannot swim in deep water. We cannot grow from here.
Growth is not linear. We cycle among the zones. We start out comfortable, safe and grounded, then take on an experiment or challenge. We adapt to that and incorporate it into who we are. We are again comfortable and repeat the cycle. If we run into the panic margin, we may retreat to either growth (and explore what happened) or comfort (and re-group). At some point we always must return to our comfort zone home base or risk burning out.
Our best strategy is to brush up against the edges of our comfort zone circle. The growth zone is the most dynamic and rewarding space in the comfort-growth-panic model. It is where learning, creativity, and transformation take place. Not because things are easy, but because they are just challenging enough. We take small steps outward. In moments of bravery we proceed with curiosity. Over time, what once scared us becomes a part of who we are.
And what about hygge? Perhaps it is what sustains us on the inside so we can venture outward. What do you think?
(1) This is not to disrespect or forget those who lost loved ones to COVID. These families were wrenched out of their comfort zones in the cruelest ways.
(2) See especially Yerkes, R.M. and Dodson, J.D. (1908). “The relation of strength of stimulus to rapidity of habit-formation.” Journal of Comparative Neurology and Psychology, 18: 459-482. The Yerkes-Dodson Law established that a moderate level of stress optimizes performance (growth). Too little leads to stagnation (comfort zone). Too much leads to breakdown (panic zone).
Love, Alice
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