I need a new mattress. I hate mattress shopping. You want to get a good deal and not overpay but it’s so confusing and impossible to comparison shop. Plus, shopping is exhausting when you have chronic pain.
When my old mattress was about ten years old, I started trying to shop. I compared different types of high-end mattresses. The Fixer and I did the whole “find your number” thing at one mattress store and we had the same number, so we decided we could eliminate that mattress from our list of expensive brands.
Then we turned our thoughts towards a Tempurpedic mattress, but we heard from friends that they’re hot.
Hot and sleep just don’t mix with me, so we nixed that one.
We finally decided on a mattress topper and put off the purchase for a few more years. But it’s time now.
Before COVID-19, a huge national furniture store had its grand opening, so we went and laid on a bunch of mattresses. Which seems silly, because how are you going to tell in two minutes whether a mattress is going to be comfortable for eight hours each night? But we climbed up on the super whiz-bang adjustable Tempurpedic. Apparently, they’ve corrected the heat problem with Tempurbreeze and so it’s back in the running.
This mattress was amazing.
I usually read propped up on pillows before I fall asleep and often in the night when I wake up and can’t calm my mind, I reach for my book. So, raising the head to a comfortable reading position is appealing to me.
Lying flat, I could feel tension in my lower back but the helpful salesperson, made a slight adjustment to the knees (remote-controlled of course) and the stress on my lower back was instantly gone.
That was when I knew that I had to have this mattress. I need this mattress!
I had previously objected to the mattress because it’d be annoying to have your partner running the bed up and down in the middle of the night while you’re trying to sleep. Also, because the bed is separate to allow individual adjustments, you have to use twin sheets on the bottom and a king top sheet meaning I’d have to buy all new sheets.
But those objections went out the window as soon as my lower back felt better from one minor adjustment that isn’t possible with a non-adjustable mattress. I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to get a full night’s sleep with no pain! Did I mention this bed is amazing?
So, this is the mattress for me, right? Lest this blog post begin to sound like an advertisement for Tempurpedic, let me tell you why I don’t have one cradling me to sleep each night – the price! These mattresses are so expensive they fall into the luxury category for my budget.
Which has me thinking about comfort vs luxury.
According to this article, chronic pain is physically and psychologically stressful and its constant discomfort can lead to anger and frustration with yourself and your loved ones.
The constant discomfort of chronic pain has me craving comfort.
Comfort is not easily attainable to people with chronic pain. Maybe comfort requires spending more. When something can not only create comfort but also correct a problem and allow healing, its value increases even more.
Discomfort leaves you in a state of want. Getting your mind to a better place that allows you to function in your world means not denying yourself the things that create comfort in a chaotically discomforting world.
How can I create comfort? Additionally, where could I go beyond creating comfort to creating healing?
Comfort is a hot bath…or a hot tub.
Comfort is a bed that supports…or creates relief.
Comfort is shoes that fit well…or that absorb impact to joints.
Comfort is a vehicle that’s easy to access…or that’s effortless to drive, ergonomically sound, and allows plenty of room.
Comfort is the right tool for the job…or ergonomically correct and ratcheting that does the job for you.
Comfort is clothes that don’t bind or restrict and are roomy enough for braces…or fabrics designed to breathe and pockets that save you extra trips.
Where does it stop being comfort and become a luxury?
My gardening wardrobe tends to be my old cast-offs. Old jeans, shirts, and old shoes.
My feet hurt.
Why am I spending hours a day in old worn-out shoes? Worn out tennis shoes and flip flops add to my pain. What if I wore shoes that absorb shock or are even orthopedically correct?
And my clothes? Old worn-out jeans and holey t-shirts. What if I wore clothes that were designed for movement, with breathable fabrics that reduce sweat? Or clothes like these Duluth overalls that allow plenty of room for braces and have pockets to save me extra trips from the garden for supplies?
What if the things I wear each day are picked purposefully to reduce stress on my joints and bring some comfort into my world?
Luxury is subjective.
In many countries, having clean water flowing from a tap is a luxury; paved streets are luxuries; houses with electricity are luxuries; more than enough food is a luxury.
These are all conveniences that bring us comfort. None of us would forgo having them because someone deemed them too luxurious.
Comfort is not a luxury. When you have chronic pain, comfort is vital.
I’m going to decide now to choose the things I buy purposefully, to provide me comfort and offset my discomfort. And if that product also helps heal me, that’s money well spent.
Of course, there’s this pesky thing called the budget to weigh those choices against. But I can shop sales and reduce other items that are luxuries.
I don’t know if I’ll ever wrap my mind around shelling out the money for the Cadillac of beds, but it’s nice to know it’s available to me. If you have the resources, no amount of money is too much to spend to bring comfort into a very discomforting world.
Comfort is not a luxury. Good health is not a luxury. Choose now to pursue comfort and good health in the garden.
Happy Gardening!
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