The Art of Taking Risks

This post is part three in my series on depression and anxiety that are being written 90% to help me get through this next little while, 5% to help me process by  putting things in words, and 5% to help others understand depression and anxiety better.

I have received some really sweet messages from people saying that they are actually finding my last two posts really valuable in their openness and honesty. One of these messages actually tied in really well with something I have been thinking about a lot lately - the art of not just taking risks, but knowing when to stop. She actually mentioned an event I have been thinking about a lot lately and that I think ties in with the recent events - the time I tried to run an 8K technical race and didn't finish.

What is the connection? When I ran that race I was scared to do it but I gave it a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working and was putting me in danger, but I was so determined to keep going that I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I kept pushing. Until I found myself having an asthma attack two kilometres from help and no inhaler (that was due to a separate bit of bad life choices). I put myself in serious danger because I didn't stop when I knew I should stop. Because I forced myself to keep pushing through even when I knew it wasn't going to work.

This is another situation that I was scared to do but gave a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working, and for a short while I continued to push. What's the difference? That time I put my life in danger because I couldn't admit when it was time to stop. This time I decided to stop. This time I saw the writing on the wall and decided to step back and keep myself safe.

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The people from the school have been very supportive since I made my decision. I had a really interesting conversation with them on Monday where we discussed the idea I'm trying to get to today. I told them that if I had thought this would happen like this I would never have come and that I felt bad about things. They said something amazing -that just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't ever take risks.

What a thought. Just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't take risks. I can take risks. Risks are okay.

What a thought. I spent most of my life playing absolutely everything as safe as possible. I did nothing to draw attention to myself, nothing that could put me at risk of being hurt physically, nothing that could put me at risk of embarrassment or pain or worst of all failure. In the last few years I have been growing out of this. I started to be able to take risks and come out of my safe little shell. I loved it, feeling like I was brave and capable.

Now I have encountered a risk that knocked me down pretty hard. So how do I respond? Do I go back into my safe little shell? Or do I keep taking risks even knowing how badly it can end?

I choose option c. I keep taking risks but I keep this lesson in mind: it is alright to acknowledge when something is not working and when a risk hasn't turned out. But I do not let this defeat me and stop me from living a full life. Because then this really would be a failure.