Confessions of a Risk-Taker

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First of all let me start by confessing, I did not read the 3rd chapter of 12 Secrets. I have been too busy these past few days, and my brain threatened to short-circuit. I have started reading some of your blogs, however, which I found, as usual, most inspiring and uplifting.

So. Risk.

Getting up in the morning is a risk. No one knows what the day will bring. We take risks all the time: emotional risks, professional risks, interpersonal risks, creative risks. We risk every time we open our mouths to speak our opinion, or our feelings. Because no one can know the outcome.

Life is a risk.

Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. If we didn't risk, we wouldn't be able to speak or think, or create. We would still be living in dark caves, grunting responses. No invention, no discovery, no monumental event has happened without risk.

So what I have I risked?

At 16, I left my parents home because I could no longer take the tyranny of their oppressive rules. I went to Greece and attended University there. I sold my piano, for my tuition, and I worked to support myself. I sold jewelry on the streets. I was a bar tender. I was a waitress. I worked at a flower crafts factory. I tutored spoiled kids in English.

At 20, I returned to Montreal to pursue my Masters. I got a loan. I worked as a waitress, a cashier, and a bar tender. I tutored spoiled kids in Math and English. By 22, I was disillusioned with academia and decided I was going to pursue teaching as my career.

I lived with roommates, and stumbled into the world of dating and "love". I risked my heart, and my health in a string of unwise relationships, because I was naive and untrained. I was raised in a very sheltered way, and I had not really had the chance to interact with boys and men in a gradual way. My learning curve was non-existent at the time.

At 23, diploma in hand, I left Montreal to come to Toronto. I had no family or friends here. I stayed with my then ex-boyfriend's cousin for a year, as a live-in nanny, while I got my feet on the ground. The risk? Her boyfriend was a big time drug dealer with drug dealing friends and "clients". After escaping being murdered and raped, I moved again. By then, I was working at a language school until I got my Ontario credentials. I moved into my first apartment.

A couple of years later, I risked marriage to a sweet man who turned out to have no ambition and a big heroin/cocaine problem. Four years later, I left him and started yet again.

I risked meeting a man who I found through an online dating site. We had fallen deeply in love. I risked my heart. Only to find out he was married. I walked away. Goddesses don't work that way.

Then I risked it again with another man. It didn't work out.

And again with another. (Did I mention I have a slow learning curve?) He proposed. He was going to move here from the states. It was all set. He backed out at the last minute. The risk was too high for him. My heart petrified. My learning curve stalled.

In that time, I bought my first home, way too big for me, but beautiful, by myself, on a wing and a prayer. Two years after that, I sold it at a profit and bought my current, much smaller and cozier home.

I took two years leave without pay, to pursue my dream of starting my own magazine. I spent all my savings; my partner backed out; but, I kept it alive for a year by myself, then admitted defeat. I went back to teaching.

This is the skeleton of my risk taking.

Now?

I risk every time I post a blog about myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my struggles. I don't know who is reading this and how they will take it. I don't know how I will be judged. I often ask myself, "What makes your life so interesting that others need to read it?" Nothing. But if anyone, just one person, will gain solace or understanding from my blog, then the risk is worth it.

I risk every time I post my art work or poetry on this blog. To my infinite surprise, people have been most kind and supportive. And when they have nothing good to say, they say nothing at all. I love that about you.

Now, in my 40th year, or is it 41st, I ask myself, "What risks are you going to take?"

The answer? I have no blessed idea.

Right now, I am coasting through turbulent waters. There are spectacularly clear patches, and there are muddy patches. All I know is, I wake up every morning, and I risk. At work, I am trying to reorganize a department in near shambles and there is some resistance, and some resentment. But when the dust clears, there is gratitude. In my life, I try to smile and put myself out there in the hope that my heart will not be demolished again, by anyone.

So yeah, I am no stranger to risk. What is strange to me is the Hollywood ending that risk brings. Yet, I still risk the chance that one day, I too, will get it. :)