That rough and tumble cocktail of beautiful, liberating and absolutely terrifying is something I say I’m used to.
I say I’m used to the upheaval and the uncertainty even though deep down, I panic at everything and have more moments of “What have I done?” and “What am I doing?” more than I’d like to admit.
If I was a real risk taker, would I ask myself those questions at every turn?
But I do it anyway, I play the risky poser because I’ve learned that it’s not the “doing” of risk that is difficult for me as is the “process” of risk, or the “pre-risk” phase.
That uncertain pre-risk, pre-process of worry often accompanied by kicking….and screeming….and CRYING (not the ugly kind, more like the gentle weep).
It’s the anxiety before the band-aid’s pulled off and the worry before the dive. In both cases, the opening act outplays the headliner.
But it’s part of the process one must go through to get to the other side. The other side being the place where we say, “It was all worth it.”
For me, the other side is where the uncommon, the extraodinary circumstances that I’ve been able to experience have been.
The other side is the place I’ve landed after pushing my dreams once and somehow finding a way to pull those choices into some kind of adult life.
And I know that.
I know that I’ve made a choice after finishing the pre-risk process, the risks and then deciding to give up something, or sometimes many somethings in exchange for stories that begin with “You’ll never guess what happened” to experiences that ended with “And it was all worth it”.
But at what point do I let the process be the process? What kind of magical things could I do if I didn’t fear it?