Playing it Safe and Taking Risks – a few thoughts

Risk-taking

I wrote an article back in 2018 on the natural human reluctance to take risks as we live longer. It is a response for self-preservation, don’t you think? But it comes with a slippery slope.  This tendency to gravitate towards safety often means that we forego new, interesting and worthwhile adventures for fear of something going wrong.

Recently, I had reasons to take my own personal risks, and although I struggled with my decisions, in the end I said yes, and yes and yes. Consequently, I was reminded of the value of acting out of my comfort zone – increased confidence, satisfaction, opportunities to learn and meet others, improving a relationship, and a sprouting of ideas – other things I now want to do.

Note – (my usual reminder that I am never talking about recklessness, nor is finances part of this)

Safety vs Autonomy

Atul Gawande writes about safety and risks in his excellent book, Being Mortal. He talks about how institutions are being designed to keep everyone safe rather than to live fully while they can.

Atul Gawande argues that many assisted living and nursing facilities fail residents by prioritizing safety and medical mandates over quality of life and personal autonomy. He highlights instances where residents are denied simple choices, like having a cookie, and are stripped of their dignity and connection to their former lives. Gawande advocates for a shift in focus from mere survival to helping people live a fulfilling life, by prioritizing their individual needs and desires, such as having meaningful social interactions and pursuing their own interests.

Two of his recommendations are:

Prioritize Well-being:

Shift the focus from simply adding years to life to adding “life to those years” by focusing on what truly matters to the individual. 

My Father

I encountered this with my own father. After a leg amputation, the hospital staff encouraged my father to move into a care facility. He declined their offer and let them know that he preferred his own small apartment. He had engineered assisted devices for himself that would allow him to manage his daily life, although he lived alone. When I visited him, I was met by the patient discharge person who assumed that my sister and I would agree with her.

“You also wouldn’t want him to slip in the tub and possibly die, would you?”

We explained that we weren’t worried about that. We were far more worried about his despair living in an institutionalized setting. That would have been a slow death for him. He was able to still make the meals he liked to eat, to have friends visit, and to do what he wanted within the limitations of his illness. He wasn’t dependent on a companion to look after him, but with some help, and his friends,  he was able to maintain his autonomy and enjoy his life.

She added, “he did politely tell me that I could get hit by a car going home tonight – we are all vulnerable to death, he said.”  I nodded, smiled and said, “I understand his point of view.” I also understood hers. Not everyone would even want to take the kinds of risks my father took, but since he was of sound mind, although not sound in body, we supported his decision. He died a few years later in the hospital from different reasons, cheerful and full of life to the end.

We are all different. A risk for me may be nothing to you. Trying to merge on the Queensway Highway in Ottawa is risky for me. When I must do it, I make sure I am merging at 6:00 in the morning before rush hour. The rest of the time, I am an expert on how to get around Ottawa without ever going on the Queensway. I don’t need to prove anything except that if I want to visit friends where the Queensway is necessary, I can do it, while feeling anxious. And I research the best times and the best approaches for doing so.

That, of course,  is what I did this month, when the time had come to visit friends. My trip was a five-hour car ride each way, and here I am back again, safe and sound and changed. I now predict that I can drive to Nova Scotia next summer and do a road trip down memory lane. This had not even occurred to me before this month’s sojourn.

Sense of Adventure

I reminded myself this summer that taking risks is about renewing our sense of adventure, and we are not held captive by all the things that might go wrong. We look at the fears. knowing they are inevitable, and see what we can do to minimize the risks, like my merging earlier in the morning.

As much as I fret ahead of time about something I have agreed to do, I have never regretted my “yes,” after the fact. What I have learned is that many of my most meaningful moments have involved risk, and they have always been worth it.

Again, my anxiety about the drive disappeared once I was on the road. Or my cycling trip around the Cabot Trail 14 years ago, which was filled with insecurity and sometimes fear, yet is now a highlight of my life. Moving to Ottawa to take an active role in my youngest Grandchildren’s lives was a risky business for all kinds of reasons. And yet, it was the best thing I could have done.

Taking risks is not being reckless. The willingness to take risks frees us to do things that we want to do. While feeling insecure, we can step out of our comfort zone and experience the aliveness of just doing it (whatever it means to each of us) while we are still breathing. We can pour ourselves into something we love, while accepting the risk of failure, as another example.

I wonder about the risk of risking nothing –  might that possibly be the riskiest thing of all? What about you, dear readers?

Notes

1) Many of you know this, but for new readers, when I turned 65, my 91-year-old Mother flew 4500 KM from Vancouver Island to Ottawa for the occasion. She also joined my daughter and son in accompanying me on a hot air balloon trip as a surprise birthday gift. (Her friends told her that this was way too risky.)  Someone asked how she could dare fly alone. Her answer – “Oh’ I’m not alone, there will be at least two hundred other passengers with me.” She lived to be 100 plus and continued to take risks and live fully.

2) I recognize another kind of risk that can be challenging is the risk of changing our minds, with new information, or a change of circumstance etc.

3) I do hope that you are enjoying this seasonal beauty and warm weather that cools at night. Sigh! I love it.

4) For those of you who are suffering, please don’t hesitate to reach out. If I can be of any help, I am happy to do so.

5) I am filled with gratitude for all the lovely words that have come my way during this birthday time. Please know how much I treasure them. May you be cared for in all the ways that you need. We can all do tough things when we have to. And ask for help when you need it. Best and warmest wishes, Trudy