Two of my favorite books of this year include The Comfort Crisis by Michael Easter and Dopamine Nation by Anna Lembke.
As a psychologist, I've been wondering whether we've accidentally come to believe that mental health means simply feeling good.
Less anxiety..
Less sadness.
Less discomfort.
Less uncertainty.
Yes Of course, symptom reduction matters.
When someone is struggling with panic attacks, OCD, depression, PTSD, or debilitating anxiety, reducing suffering is often an important goal of treatment.
But somewhere along the way, I think many of us absorbed a broader message:
That emotional health means feeling comfortable.
That healthy people are calm.
Confident. Certain. Positive. Unbothered.
And yet, some of the healthiest people I know are none of those things.
They're grieving.
They're taking risks.
They're raising children.
They're falling in love.
They're starting businesses.
They're healing from heartbreak.
They're having difficult conversations.
They're pursuing goals that matter deeply to them.
In other words, they're uncomfortable.
Not because something is wrong.
Because they're fully engaged in life.
The Modern Relationship with Discomfort
I wonder if part of the modern mental health crisis isn't discomfort itself, but our relationship to discomfort.
Humans have always experienced uncertainty, rejection, boredom, grief, frustration, loneliness, and fear.
What's different today is how quickly we can escape those experiences.
For the first time in human history, discomfort is often optional.
Bored? Scroll.
Lonely? Consume content.
Anxious? Seek reassurance.
Uncertain? Search for answers.
Restless? Distract yourself.
None of these behaviors are inherently bad. I do them too.
But when every uncomfortable feeling becomes something to eliminate, we miss an important opportunity:
Learning that we can survive it.
The Discomfort We Actually Want
Some of life's most meaningful experiences come packaged with discomfort.
Love creates vulnerability.
Parenting creates frustration.
Growth creates uncertainty.
Creativity creates self-doubt.
Healing creates grief.
Purpose requires effort.
You don't get one without the other.
Which makes me wonder whether we've been asking the wrong question.
Instead of:
"How do I get rid of this feeling?"
Maybe the question is:
"How do I make room for it?"
That doesn't mean we should seek suffering.
It means we stop treating every difficult emotion as evidence that something is wrong.
The Goal Isn't to Feel Better
One of the most powerful ideas I've encountered through Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) is that the goal of mental health isn't necessarily to feel better.
The goal is to become more capable of feeling.
To develop the flexibility to experience anxiety, grief, uncertainty, disappointment, and fear without allowing those emotions to dictate the course of our lives.
Healthy people still feel difficult emotions.
The difference isn't that they feel less.
It's that they're more willing to feel.
A Different Definition of Mental Health
Perhaps mental health isn't the absence of discomfort.
Perhaps it's the capacity to experience the full range of human emotions while continuing to move toward what matters.
Because a meaningful life will always include discomfort.
Love.
Growth.
Connection.
Purpose.
Parenting.
Healing.
While it is tempting to avoid these things, the goal is to build a life so meaningful that the discomfort is worth it.
Further Reading
Harris, R. (2022). The happiness trap: How to stop struggling and start living (2nd ed.). Shambhala Publications.
Lembke, A. (2021). Dopamine nation: Finding balance in the age of indulgence. Dutton.
Easter, M. (2021). The comfort crisis: Embrace discomfort to reclaim your wild, happy, healthy self. Rodale Books.
Keyes, C. L. M. (2002). The mental health continuum: From languishing to flourishing in life.
Hayes, S. C. (2019). A liberated mind: How to pivot toward what matters. Avery.