Our growth as human beings is completely reliant on how we deal with and respond to pain.

This sucks. In fact, it’s ironically painful in and of itself.

You hear it all the time and see it on annoying mugs, magnets, and greeting cards: Life begins out of your comfort zone! You’re not living unless you’re living on the edge! Be gritty! All of these things are true. We say and spew these truths to others and they churn around in our own heads, but few of us actually put the pedal to the metal.

Because most of the time, this zone that exists out of our comforts hurts. Not literally painful, like being branded or, if you cook for a living, cutting your fingers with knives or burning your arms on ovens, but it is unpleasant. It goes against our “I WANNA BE COMFORTABLE AND COZY ALL THE TIME” human nature grain. What’s pleasant is lying in bed and watching ten hours of The Real Housewives of Orange County, eating dulce de leche by the spoonful and drowning your sorrows in chocolate and ice cream. Delicious. Lying on the couch when you get home from work, exhausted, thinking about how it’s possible that one human being can make such a mess and change clothes so many times per day and that only one human being is responsible for cleaning it: unfortunately, that’s you. It’s others as well. We all have what we use to create inaction: smoking cigarettes, drinking, men, food, magazines, phones, being too social, television binges. Distractions.

Not doing anything about anything feels really, really amazing. For like ten minutes, tops. This kind of sucks, too.

If our days consist of staying in the zone where nothing happens, we’re going to be some stagnant homo-sapiens in this life. Because our days are our years and are our lives and then it’s like what the eff? I’m still 25 years old but now I’m 40, and what do I have to show for it?

What most people don’t realize is that getting to a state in which you are the envy of all others, whether that’s for your body, your book-writing abilities, or anything else that requires serious skills, is that it takes A LOT OF FREAKING WORK. A lot of discipline, a lot of self control, a lot of sacrifice, a lot of saying no, a lot of doing a bunch of shit you really don’t want to do, and a lot of the fundamental truth: taking a grasp of the pain that you feel when you’re doing great work, something that will pull and push and twist you into something greater than where you are right now, and telling that pain to be quiet and that it is not in charge. Taking it by the hand, dancing with it and crushing it and telling to shut up.

Most people look at these “enviable” people and think that because they’ve gotten to where they are, they don’t feel pain anymore. Things are no longer a struggle for them. They run and their legs have morphed into weightless limbs. They can pick weight up off the floor in infinite amounts and in perfect form. They can do head and handstand and twist their body into yoga shapes you didn’t know existed. Seamlessly. Painlessly.

This is not true.

These people join everyone in the world in their pain, but what matters is what you do with it. Do you use it as fuel to further yourself? Or do you cover up any form of pain with distraction and addiction in order to avoid it, which only leaves you with more pain?

Since I’m a solo-business-lady with no one to rely on but myself, I’m out of my comfort zone most of the day with little bursts of satisfaction mixed in. If I don’t feel like going to work, tough, I cannot have collection agencies coming after me. I also subject myself to more pain and growth because I am increasingly passionate about CrossFit and Ashtanga Yoga.

Being a former cardio queen, I shuddered at strength training and only ever used useless 2-pound weights (I might as well have used feathers) and super awkward weight machines (that claspy thigh one? Seriously?). This year, I made it a goal to become strong all over my body. Specifically, to conquer my lifelong and deep-seated fear of doing an unassisted pull-up in Crossfit and headstand/handstand in yoga. The rude awakening for what it actually takes to do these moves felt like getting ice water poured all over my warm snuggly self alla sports games. I thought I was kinda fit already. Pullups and headstands said nope. It took me 3 months of solid work to do headstand (and I still need to be spotted by my teacher) and I graduated from doing ring-rows to using assistance bands for my pull-ups in CrossFit (only because my coaches pushed me through my reluctancy). It’s different for everyone, but these moves take about a year of consistent work to master.

I feel pain during every workout, each time my body breaks yesterday’s threshold, mentally and physically. But unless I feel that pain, that struggle, that grit, that “BUT I DON’T WANNA” mini internal tantrum, and move past it, I’m not growing. I’ll never get the things I’ve always wanted if I never get over the fear of what it takes to pursue them. In the depths of my pain, and when I want to quit whatever it is that I’m doing (which is essentially not being present and leaving the moment), I remind myself that this is an opportunity to grow, to stretch myself to limits that were once impossibilities.

Change your relationship to pain. Use it, instead, as an indicator of your growth. And do it every. single. day.

On the days that I need to eat well, but I don’t want to feel a lot of pain in the kitchen, I make stupid-simple recipes with NO CHOPPAGE. YAY! It lets my mind breathe a little bit and makes my body thrive a bit more. This is so good and easy, and elegant enough for a dinner party. Say the words prosciutto, rosemary, brown butter, and sea bass and you are guaranteed to impress with not doing much. Which sometimes, is just the way I need and want to work.

When we feel good and spend the day chipping away at our fears, we let go of temporary pleasures that make us feel bad ten minutes after doing them. In the pursuit of my goals, it hurts, but I am satisfied and deeply happy. Best of all, I get to sleep like an infant, rolling around, not in chocolate, but in my own satisfaction and confidence as a human.

Brown butter & rosemary seabass with proscuitto

Inspired again by Ina Garten

What you need

6 (6-ounce) firm white fish filets, such as seabass or halibut

Olive oil

6 thin slices prosciutto

4 ounces butter (1 stick) (for whole30, use 1/2 cup ghee in place of butter)

6 sprigs fresh rosemary

3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice (about 1 lemon)

Lemon wedges, for serving

What you do

Line a sheet pan with aluminum foil, and place a baking rack on top of the foil. Brush the fish filets on both sides with olive oil and season them with salt and pepper. Wrap each filet with a slice of prosciutto to form a wide band around the center of the fillet, overlapping the ends on the skin side. Arrange the fillets on the rack with the prosciutto seam side down and roast for 10 to 15 minutes, until barely cooked.

While fish are roasting, in a medium-sized saute pan, melt the butter (or ghee) over medium heat. Add the rosemary sprigs and cook over low heat until the rosemary leaves get crispy and the butter begins to brown, about 6 minutes. You’ll know it’s done when the butter begins to smell nutty. Discard the rosemary, stir in the lemon juice, and set aside.

To serve, place the fish on a platter or individual plates, spoon the rosemary butter on top, and surround with the vegetables. Garnish with lemon wedges and serve hot.