These past 6 months, I have come to think about risk a lot. Not the game kind, the kicked-in-the-gut kind.
What I left and lost: My autonomy–hardest. My financial plan–easiest.
What I must give up. My sense of entitlement. My resentment for the weight I magically gained :p
Why I did this. What is it that I'm actually after: Like the Golden Gate Bridge on a foggy day, I know it's there, I just can't see the details right now.
Whether it's worth it: I would have been a lot more ambivalent about this yesterday, but after a good meeting today, I think it just might be.
Whether I'm being bold or reckless. Maybe.
A wonderful reader's survey in the New York Times, courtesy of Miss T, asking people why they take risks perked me up muchly. A big reminder that there's others in the same boat. That it does work out. Or even if it doesn't they still lived to tell the tale. And, that come to think of it, the risk of the Big Move doesn't come nearly close to #90's comment: "Being honest with people (and myself) in all of my relationships (platonic and romantic)."
As a truly huge fan of "keeping things nice" I realise I'd really rather move across the ocean again, or repel down the side of a cliff, than to break my vow of compliance and speak the truth all the time. Something just freaks out inside every time I think I endanger my relationships with the truth. Better a relationship based on a little lying than none at all, right? ...is my general line of thinking.
Retarded, but true, at least.
1 comment:
Yes that was a really thought-provoking piece wasn't it? Interesting how it speaks to people differently too. You're right, and I think being 100% honest in relationships for me is definitely riskier than doing my PhD. Being honest with oneself is hard enough as it is.
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