Discomfort Is Not the Problem But the Doorway

We’ve been told that discomfort is a symptom—that something is wrong,broken, in need of fixing. 

 We build lives around this premise: treat the symptom, diagnose the illness, cure the defect.

But what if discomfort is not a problem?

What if it is a question—an opening into something larger than the self that aches to hold it?

Eros doesn’t promise relief.

It offers only this: to lean in, to feel the edges of what we call unbearable.

What if the discomfort is not the problem but the doorway?

The mind loves to name things. It loves to label: problem, solution, wrong, right.

It loves the clarity of binaries, the satisfaction of identifying what’s broken and fixing it. But what happens when there’s nothing to fix?

I think of the world we’ve made—industries of repair, economies of healing, cultures of blame. The problem-seeking mind grows stronger with each diagnosis. It finds what it seeks, again and again, until we forget that discomfort might be something else entirely: a call more deeply into ourselves.

The problem is not the discomfort. The problem is the problem-seeking.

Eros invites us to reimagine our relationship with discomfort. What if the anxiety we try to calm, the trauma we work to resolve, and the unease we seek to suppress are not defects to be fixed but energies longing for expression?

These feelings we’ve pathologized are not the enemy; they are life itself, asking us to meet it fully.

This is the promise of Eros: that everything we desire—our wholeness, our freedom, our joy—is already alive inside us, locked within the very energies we’ve been trying to escape.

The question isn’t how to get rid of discomfort, but how to work with it, how to let it shape us, and how to let it set us free.