When I think about taking risks and pushing boundaries, the first memory that pops into mind is the time I packed up and went to London on my own. But I feel like I’ve talked about that enough and am beginning to sound like a broken record. How many times can one say that the experience changed their life for the better?
I don’t think I’m a big risk-taker or boundary-nudger anyway. I can get quite comfortable and settled with my routine. I do recall doing some things where I look back and think I’m really lucky that I didn’t get myself killed (such as going home with a man I just met who could have been an axe-weilding maniac). Perhaps my behaviour is better classified as ‘careless’ rather than ‘risk-taking’. I think taking a risk involves some level of understanding about what you could possibly gain and/or lose.
I suppose the last time I sort-of took a risk is when I was applying for work. I applied for three different jobs around the same time. I got offered an interview for one, which I attended. While waiting for the outcome of that one, I was contacted to attend interviews for the other two roles I applied for. I wasn’t feeling confident about how I went with the interview, yet I still turned down both interview offers.
I knew it was a gamble and that I wasn’t guaranteed to get the job I was first interviewed for, but I still turned down the interview offers anyway. I just wanted that job more than the other two. Thankfully, I got the job. In this case, you can say that the risk paid off, but if I didn’t get the job it’d be a very different story and I’d be kicking myself in the butt.
And that’s the thing about taking risks and pushing boundaries — you’re not guaranteed how things will turn out. But sometimes you’ve just gotta do it anyway.