A quick note before we begin: Hello! I know it’s been awhile. I’ve had a lot happening in my life in the past couple of months including moving homes, travel, a death in the family, and a hectic time at work. It’s all okay now, it’s just been a challenging few months. I’m writing this while holidaying in Korea, and finally have some mental space to sit down and write again. I hope to be able to do this more regularly.
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“I guess, in the end, life is about doing hard things and overcoming them.”
I’d always thought of myself as a shitty driver.
I got my drivers licence years ago, but only drove on rare occasions since I didn’t own car myself. I was a nervous wreck whenever I drove. Once, I drove my uncle back in his car because he wasn’t feeling well. My palms were sweating into the steering wheel, and I kept abandoning switching lanes because I was too nervous. When we got to his place, my uncle chided me saying, “Ahhh, you need to relax more when you drive ahhhhh.”
So this week, when we landed on Jeju island, South Korea for a holiday, I was feeling especially apprehensive. Why? Because we’d rented a Tesla for 2.5 days of self-driving, and this would be my first time in the driver’s seat in 7 years. On a left-hand drive. In the rain.
We left the rental car parking lot and pulled up to a red light. That’s when the honking started: “PoooooOOOOOoooooh!” A car behind us started honking angrily. The entire intersection’s traffic lights were red. Was I doing something wrong? Was I supposed to turn on a red light? Would we get a fine? “I don’t think we should do it,” my wife PS said, “Let’s just wait till it turns green”.
The honking grew angrier. It wasn’t just a “pooOOOooohh” any longer; it was a chorus of “POOOOH-poooh-poooh-POOoooOOOoohh!!!!” from what sounded like a hundred cars behind me. Barely 5 minutes into my first drive and I was already pissing off the entire population of Jeju. My stress levels were through the roof.
When we got to the hotel, I was so stressed out from that 15-minute journey that I collapsed on the couch and didn’t move for half an hour. After dinner, PS and I basically spent the whole night watching Tesla videos and reading blog posts on “tips on driving in Korea”. (We found out that yes, you’re actually supposed to turn on a red light, which explains the angry mob of Jeju drivers cursing my entire family)
The next day, our plan was to drive around the island to check out the sights. I steeled myself up for another day of stressful driving and pissing off more drivers. I said a little prayer that we’d at least be safe, took a deep breath, and started driving.
And then a funny thing happened: I actually started to enjoy driving around Jeju.
Perhaps it was because speed limits on Jeju were incredibly forgiving. I could take my time driving at 50km/h and get used to it. But nevertheless, we started having fun. We visited waterfalls, cafes and restaurants. We marvelled at the mountains. We played nostalgic songs on Spotify.
When we finally returned the car two days later, I thought to myself, “Huh, maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.”
The Hard Thing About Hard Things
The whole experience made me ponder: Why did I have such an aversion towards driving? After all, driving is one of those things that guys my age are “supposed” to know how to do. And yet, for the past 7 years, whenever I was faced with the prospect of a road trip holiday, I’d immediately suggest taking the train or bus instead.
At first, I thought that my problem was technical: Perhaps I simply didn’t have the skills to drive. But as my Jeju experience showed, my problem wasn’t technical, but rather a matter of confidence. After not having driven for such a long time, I played up all the horrible scenarios that might happen, like switching lanes at the wrong time, or inadvertently running a red light, or rear-ending another car. But in reality, none of these happened and the entire trip turned out to be just fine. It was like riding a bike after I got over my initial nervousness, but I just wasn’t confident enough to believe that I could do it.
As I reflected deeper, I also realised that I have a huge aversion towards discomfort of any kind, especially in areas which I’m not particularly good at. This was painful to admit. I’d always thought of myself as someone who’s willing to tackle hard things, to push myself to grow, but this experience showed me otherwise.
It also made me realise that I’m often very happy to stay in my circle of competence, making incremental improvements in areas I was already good at, rather than put myself into uncomfortable situations.
The Discomfort of Growth
And yet, my proudest moments have almost always been the ones where I was forced to be uncomfortable, and made the effort to overcome it.
When I was studying in college in the US, my friends kidnapped me on my birthday for a surprise trip to Six Flags. Up till then, I had always hated rollercoasters, but I didn’t want embarrass myself in front of my friends so I forced myself to go on all the rides. I had an amazing time, and it helped me to overcome my fear of rollercoasters.
During my recent digital nomad experience, I realised that motorbikes were the best way to get around Bali (at least until the recently-announced tourist ban), so I forced myself to learn how to ride a motorcycle. I annoyed a lot of drivers along the way, but by the end of it I got reasonably confident to get from Point A to Point B. This turned out to be my proudest achievement in my entire 7-week stay in Bali.
In the army, I was forced to learn how to parachute from an airplane, despite having an incredible fear of heights. But when you’re flying above the dropzone and the door opens, the jumpmaster physically pushes you out of the plane even if you’re unwilling to jump. Even now, 20 years later, I still remember the exhilaration of jumping into nothingness as one of the best moments of my life.
“Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is happening. We may feel hostile or angry or weepy and hysterical, or we may feel depressed. It would never occur to us… that we were in fact in the process of change, of actually becoming larger than we were before.
Looking back, I realise now that my biggest growth experiences (and the ones I’m proudest of) were often the ones where I was figuratively and literally pushed off the ledge. Whenever I found myself forced to do uncomfortable things, 9 times out of 10 I was often glad that I did it.
Which makes me wonder: What opportunities am I missing out on because I’m unwilling to be uncomfortable? How can I be more comfortable with being uncomfortable?
I’d love some inspiration: Let me know in the comments or via email if you’ve gone through any periods of discomfort which ultimately led to growth. I’d love to hear from you!
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