Personal growth is overrated.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s a time and place for pushing beyond your comfort zone, expanding your horizons, trying new things…all that nonsense. I think that everyone with the means should spend a month or two backpacking across Europe after college, or thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail before settling down and getting a real job. Can’t afford those luxuries? Get a job on a fishing boat in Alaska, or work on a farm in Nebraska. Do something hard that scares you. It’s important. It will make you a better person.
I’m constantly harping on my kids to push themselves and do things they’re scared to do because it’s good for their development as human beings. They’re teenagers, so they’re currently laying the foundation for the adults that they will one day become. Seeking out intimidating situations, like trying a new sport or signing up for a theater class, is integral to that developmental process.
But I’m not a teenager looking to build a strong future. I’m a middle-aged man who has come to realize that pushing myself into situations beyond my comfort zone is exhausting and usually makes me physically ill.
So I’m done with personal growth.
This stance goes contrary to the best advice from medical professionals and the “life coaches” that occupy your social media feed. The prevailing thought in those circles is that people should continue to seek growth opportunities as they age. Learn a new language when you turn 50. Pick up a new sport when you see your first gray hair. Learning new skills and getting out of your comfort zone can help you live a longer, more robust life. The mental and physical decline that we see in older generations is often exacerbated by the fact that aging people simply stop pushing themselves.
But I don’t know, man. I’m tired of being scared and nauseous all the time. Because that’s what personal growth looks like in my case. It looks like me, facing fears and setting aside the limitations I put on myself from an early age, and seeking out situations that involve either boats, sharks or heights. Sometimes all three at once.
In recent years, I’ve found myself on expedition cruise ships, swimming with sharks, and climbing towering cliffs of granite in the pursuit of personal growth. I understand that these are bucket list items for a lot of people, but none of them are in my personal bucket. I never wanted to swim with sharks or spend days on a boat or even climb towering cliffs. I signed up for these adventures specifically because I was scared to do them. I thought facing my fears would somehow make me a more complete person, but honestly, I’ve just spent a lot of time trying to stay calm and not throw up.
Case in point: I spent a significant portion of last weekend hanging on to the railing of a tiny-ass fishing boat, battling an angry sea, and trying not to chum the waters with my breakfast. I put myself in that situation because I thought it would be good for me—give me a chance to face my fears of the open water—but I spent the entire time so sick, I was praying the ship would sink and put me out of my misery.
A few years ago, I decided to confront my fear of heights by climbing a big ass cliff. I like the physical act of rock climbing; the challenge of figuring out a route, the strength and mobility it takes to ascend from point A to point B, but the idea of clinging to a rock wall hundreds of feet above the ground makes me shake and sweat with anxiety. Something about falling to my death is unsettling. Weird, right?
So, I thought climbing Looking Glass Rock, a 600-foot-tall granite monolith rising from the belly of Pisgah National Forest, would be a great way to confront that fear and spur personal growth. I followed a guide up the Nose, which is the classic route up the face of the rock, a 5.7 three-pitch traditional route that has climbers trusting the rubber on the soles of their shoes as they smear and press their feet against the rough granite as they move higher and higher. Everyone says it’s a beautiful climb, and that the forest spreads out in a carpet of green below you, but I wouldn’t know because the only way I could move forward was to keep my eyes glued to the wall two feet above my head. I may as well have been climbing inside a gym.
More recently I found myself on a 100-passenger expedition cruise ship because I hate boats and the ocean terrifies me, so what better way to push past those limitations than by spending a week on a boat in the middle of the ocean? I coped by staying hopped up on sea-sickness pills and a steady stream of cocktails.
Agreeing to speak in front of crowds, snorkeling with sharks, climbing 13,000-foot peaks with exposed ridge lines…I’ve spent a lot of time in the growth phase as a middle-aged man, and I’m not sure it’s done any good. The ocean still makes me nervous. I’m still worried I’m going to fall off a cliff.
Maybe I should just live with the irrational fears and limitations that have guided me through life thus far. I’m not a teenager piecing together the building blocks of my future. I’m a 48-year-old dad who has probably reached the ceiling of his potential anyway, so why keep pushing? Personal growth is a young person’s game. I’m tired of being nauseous all the time.
So I’m done. No more personal growth. I will only seek out experiences that are well within my comfort zone. Instead of sharks and small boats, I’ll spend my time watching reruns of ‘90s-era sitcoms and cruising the same intermediate-level mountain bike trails. I will become excellent at bouldering V-1 in a climate-controlled gym.
Except I’ve already signed up for a week-long survival skills course where I’ll get dragged out into the desert of Utah until I’m so cold and hungry, I have no choice but to learn how to build a shelter, find food, and start a fire. This scares me on multiple levels (I need to snack constantly and typically need gasoline to start a campfire) and is essentially designed to make me a better person. So I’m gonna see this one through. But after that, sitcom reruns and V-1 bouldering problems for the rest of my life. I swear.
Cover photo: Courtesy of Author
