Getting Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

It can be a quiet kind of revelation when you realise that the world doesn’t actually fall apart if you stop showing up everywhere. That the party goes on without you. That people might not notice your absence, and if they do? They’ll likely move on. This realisation, strangely enough, can be liberating. Because when you stop worrying about being seen, you can start focusing on being real.

Over the last few years, I’ve been learning to live with discomfort. Not just tolerate it, but to welcome it. To seek it out. Sobriety played a big role in that. Choosing not to drink doesn’t just mean skipping the glass of wine. It means removing the filter, sitting with your feelings, and learning to find comfort in clarity. It might seem boring to some, but I’ve come to think of it as a kind of superpower. It means I’m constantly adapting, always seeking new ways to grow, and no longer sweating the small stuff.

When you’re not trying to keep up with everyone else’s expectations, you get to write your own rules. And one of mine is this: if something feels too hard, too forced, or too transactional, I don’t chase it anymore. That goes for boys. That goes for friendships. If something doesn’t feel mutual, meaningful or easy in the right kind of way? I let it go. There is real peace in that.

There’s a strange kind of loneliness that comes with growth. You find yourself taking a different path than the one people expected you to. You might not be at the events, on the apps, or tagging yourself in the same hotspots. But what you gain instead is depth. Insight. Clarity. And, if you’re lucky, a few really solid connections with people who see you for who you are.

This doesn’t mean I have it all figured out. Far from it. Get Out is still a work in progress. We aren’t where I want us to be just yet. But we are getting there. Thanks to the support of a few incredibly talented contractors who believe in the mission, we’re close. And while the platform might not be fully formed, the why behind it has never been clearer. I want to build something that helps people forge real, lasting connections beyond nightlife, dating apps or crisis services. Something that offers both challenge and comfort, community and growth.

Interestingly, many of the articles I’ve been reading lately echo this tension between growth and discomfort. One explored how self-awareness — true, honest self-awareness — isn’t always easy to come by, but can protect us from delusion and help us build a life that actually fits. Another discussed how loneliness isn’t just about who is around us, but how well we understand ourselves. And one of the most impactful pieces explored the burden of chronic illness and how it can make people feel like spectators in their own lives, disconnected from the pace and rhythm of the world around them.

There are no quick fixes. No neat solutions. But there is value in choosing the harder path—the one where you’re not performing for anyone but yourself. There’s power in sitting with discomfort long enough to realise it won’t break you. And there’s strength in acknowledging that even when things feel slow or unfinished, you can still be proud of where you are.

So here I am. Proud, uncomfortable, excited, a little tired, and very much still building. If you’re someone who shares a passion for our community, who believes in what we’re trying to do at Get Out, and maybe even has skills in content creation, tech, or digital strategy—I’d love to hear from you.

This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being present. Being real. And trusting that choosing the path that doesn’t make sense to everyone else might just be the most meaningful thing you ever do.