The comfort trap
Waking up at 5 a.m. had always been a constant struggle, and so, whenever possible, I deliberately chose my classes later than usual.
This supposed freedom, especially during the morning rush, was a privilege. I thought starting my week late could be an extension of the weekend, a buffer before stepping onto the treadmill of hustle culture. Surely, it worked. I could sleep at 4 a.m., even 5 a.m., and still wake up without an alarm—with sufficient energy for my first economics class. It was so innocuous—at least, on the surface.
Yet the comfort gradually became unsettling.
I kept getting 4.0s (the highest grade equivalent at De La Salle University), because my system was self-reinforcing. One thing I lacked, however, was growth. I relied heavily on finding loopholes and devising habits that worked in my favor to attain my objective goals, which were mostly academic.
I kept doing the same in 2023, in 2024, and throughout 2025. Each new year reinforced these objective goals: Longing for a perfect GPA, landing an internship, winning competitions, and the like. These were highly reasonable, but beneath them lurked a quieter motivation: comfort. As an aspiring economist, I framed my life the same way I framed problems in my exams: What would be the most efficient way to maximize utility or happiness, at the lowest possible cost (or, in this case, with the lowest possible sacrifice)?
The system worked for me, so any sensible individual might probably leave it as it is.
Yet again, the idea of being too comfortable felt discomforting. I did not wait for this comfort to backfire, to unveil something that was otherwise unaccounted for. Economic history tells us that even the most sophisticated models can fail astonishingly.
I consequently tried what people may deem irrational (as economists would say). Instead of sleeping at 5 a.m., I woke up at 5 a.m. I chose class schedules starting at 7:30 a.m. I changed my habit (and here’s where it gets contentious—the change was not gradual). I forced the initial comforts out of my life, including the usual watching-during-lunch moments, which I figured disrupted productivity. I now read a variety of materials, not just those that interest me (lately, I’ve become especially invested in unorthodox uses of economic methodologies, thanks perhaps to the peculiar books available on the internet).
Yes, others may argue that gradual changes would ultimately beget permanent positive changes—this is true. But in my case, I treaded a different path, and for months, I can confidently say that with discipline, drastic transformations can also be worthwhile, especially if we treat them as part of our “new” identity. It simply depends on how willing we are to completely obliterate—for lack of a better term—our old, wont ways.
I stepped into the very discomfort I was avoiding.
My body resisted, nearly festering in the first few days. But as I adapted, I noticed one thing: this discomfort became the comfort I needed but never knew I wanted. I was still getting those 4.0s, and I was still meeting my so-called objective goals every trimester.
This came with a realization: I attributed most of my success to the comfort I had, when, with all modesty, it was also possible without that comfort. By being uncomfortable, I grew to take more risks and seek new opportunities—engaging in volunteer work, pursuing personal projects, and saying yes to things that were once seemingly inefficient. And now, I find purpose to start my day, to do something different, to be genuinely excited about the vicissitudes of life.
I felt motivated to wake up at 5 a.m.
And trust me, such a process, encumbered with its drastic nature, was onerous. It devoured certain parts of me. But it also showed me I was in a trap. A comfort trap. It killed me slowly and signaled I was reaching the zenith “during” my youth (not “of” my youth). And if so, what more can I learn? What more can I contribute to the future?
Making my coffee at dawn and rushing through an endless crowd during the early-morning rush may not always be emblematic of success, but it helped me exist, thrive, and contribute in my own small ways, even in discomfort.
Perhaps, the comfort we chase is illusory—what we thought we wanted but never truly needed. So, instead of chasing objective goals or resolutions for the new year, maybe it’s time to chase systems that challenge us and that inexorably bring out the best in us.
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Nabih Tarek A. Jaber, 19, is pursuing a double-degree program at the Carlos L. Tiu School of Economics of De La Salle University.
