Comfort Zones + Hot Dogs




Oh, you look so handsome today, internet. Turn around… wow. Just… stunning.

I have this thing.

I wouldn’t call in an ‘infection’ per se…. (I’m kidding, yo!) … But I do have this thing. It’s this weird little gut feeling that’s just about always with me.

Sometimes I call it ‘my Grandmomma talking to me’.

Other times I call it ‘I’m hungry for pancakes or pizza’.

But most of the time that dull ache pulling me in one direction is my intuition.

I don’t chat much about religion here in my corner of the internet. It’s just something I like to keep personal. But on a scale of 1 to “bible thumping”, I’d say that I’d lightly brush up against a bible. Maybe softly and lovingly twirl its hairs, tickle its earlobes, or something.

(and on a scale of 1 to going to hell for probably mocking the bible, I’m decorating my hand-basket with glitter now).

The point (and I have one), is that in my almost 31 years on this earth, I’ve really grown into myself (does that sound really dirty? I’m not sorry about it at all, but it totally wasn’t intentional), and have gotten to be really good at knowing what I want, and doing what makes me feel good. I used to be solely a people pleaser, but now I know the value in pleasing myself. (Again, not intentional. Again, not sorry about it.)

I know when things aren’t good for me. Sometimes I do it anyway. In fact, I have a history of just doing it anyway. I also have a history of getting hurt. Over the last… I don’t know… 2 years, especially over the last year, I gauge just about everything on a scale of how hurt I could potentially be, and avoid doing something that could hurt me at just about all costs.

Example: About 12 years ago I ate a hot dog. (TWSS? No?) After I ate this hot dog, I was in an incredible amount of pain, ate an entire package of Tums, but ended up in the emergency room and getting emergency gall bladder surgery. I obviously made it through the ordeal, but it took me about 10 years to eat another hot dog. No wieners in this mouth. (Hi Mom!) But eventually, I took a chance, ate a Ball Park, and I lived. I didn’t have to have my gall bladder out again. (Because they totally grow back. I watch Grey’s Anatomy, weirder things have happened).  But even to this day, before I put a hot dog into my mouth (Hi Mom!), I have that weird gut instinct that says “NO. KATIE DON’T EAT IT REMEMBER THE TITANIC!”

When you get all analytical, which hello, have you met me?, you can obviously draw the conclusion that it wasn’t the entire hot dog empire that caused my gall bladder attack. It was just the last thing that I ate. Maybe it was a bad hot dog. It was a bad hot dog, not a bad life. (Write that down, free quotable quote for you, friends). I suppose it was normal to avoid eating one for a while, but eventually you have to let sh*t go. I did it, it hurt, I survived.

There’s something to be said for taking proper precautions though. Once you get hurt physically, emotionally, financially, or spiritually and you feel that overwhelming pain in whatever form it comes in, you want to do everything you can to avoid it happening again. The basic rule would be to avoid the things that hurt you and aren’t good for you… I mean, right?

The thing that I struggle with, and continue to struggle with is whether something truly isn’t good for me, or if I’m relying on previous experiences to light my way… a little too much. Are the experiences that I think are lighting my way actually blinding me to the things that are in front of me that could actually be beneficial? At what point are you making the same mistake twice VS taking a new chance? Is there a clear damn line that someone can draw?

How the heck do I tell the difference between protecting myself and staying barricaded in my comfort zone?

Do I need to live more in the courage zone? Can I buy Fast Passes to the courage zone?

Should I be eating more hot dogs?

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