The Gift of Staying Present: Why We Need to Sit with Discomfort
Exploring how Buddhist mindfulness and ACT principles can help us befriend discomfort rather than flee from it – and what we might discover when we stay present with difficult feelings.
I've been reflecting lately on how much energy I spend trying to escape uncomfortable feelings. A difficult conversation with a friend, the anxiety before a big decision, or even just the restlessness that comes on a quiet Sunday afternoon – my first instinct is often to reach for my phone, make a cup of tea, or find any distraction to make the feeling go away.
But what if that discomfort is actually trying to teach us something?
In Buddhist practice, there's this beautiful concept of staying present with whatever arises – the pleasant and the unpleasant alike. When we constantly flee from uncomfortable emotions, we're essentially telling ourselves that we can't handle what we're feeling. We reinforce the belief that discomfort is dangerous, when often it's simply information.
Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) echoes this wisdom in a practical way. Instead of struggling against difficult thoughts and feelings, ACT invites us to notice them, name them, and allow them to exist alongside us. "I notice I'm feeling anxious about this conversation" becomes a doorway to understanding rather than a signal to escape.
When we practice sitting with discomfort – whether it's grief, uncertainty, or even boredom – we discover something remarkable: feelings don't actually last forever. They rise, peak, and naturally subside, like waves on a shore. By staying present, we build our capacity to handle life's inevitable challenges with more grace and less reactivity.
Of course, this doesn't mean staying in genuinely harmful situations. Trust your instincts about real safety concerns – removing yourself from threatening environments is wisdom, not avoidance.
But for those everyday discomforts – the awkward silences, the disappointments, the moments when life feels uncertain – what if we got curious instead of running? What might we learn if we stayed a little longer with what we'd rather push away?
Sometimes the most profound growth happens not when we feel good, but when we learn to be okay with not feeling good.





