We Risk, We Lose, and Life Explodes…

Posted: December 26, 2009 in Life & People
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

I don’t consider myself a risk-taker. A lifelong worry-wart, I have no room, and not enough courage, inside myself to take big risks. Oh, I can handle little risks here and there, the moments where I’m able to clear the fog of worry and fear and do something moderately risky – eat something that seems weird to me, ride something big and scary at the fair (seriously, why do the same rides I loved as a child seem like nothing but giant, rusty pieces of crap just waiting to collapse now?), maybe wear an outfit that’s not exactly me, but shows every curve at its most flattering.

But big risks? It’s just not me. I have no desire or plan to sky dive, nor do I foresee myself camping alone on the interior side; I won’t ever be a superman, either.

And yet, I can concede that I have been somewhat of a big risk-taker when it came to matters of the heart. I have declared worship when I had no idea if it would be reciprocated; I have laid bare the deepest, and the crappiest, parts of my soul; I have taken chances in situations that seemed hopeless and much too painful to really have hope for. When I was younger, I took risks without serious, deep consideration; I did it for the account of it all, because I lived in a world of fantasies by people who were as ridiculous as me. In adulthood, I took the risks I did because I knew I could not live with myself if I didn’t. I knew what my heart wanted, truly wanted, and was not going to deny it or myself the possibility of happiness.

But there is another kind of risk that I’ve taken, perhaps too much in recent years, that I wasn’t even consciously aware of until just recently. I didn’t realize I was doing it, nor did I classify it as a risk; I was just doing it, some primitive part of me pushing me into this place of do-or-die and extremes. Sometimes, many times, even, it’s worked; I’ve gotten the results I wanted. But other times – mainly, this last time – it hasn’t, and maybe that’s why I’m right here right now, writing these words.

I’m still in some very deep introspection about this; being so suddenly aware of it, I am amazed and scared and ashamed and not at all sure about what to make of it. Surely, on some level, I was aware – in moments where everything was down to the wire, where it felt like everything was at stake, this is how I chose to handle it. That there is the bottom line: I chose an extreme, took an enormous risk, and the rest is just the consequences of that one act.

I’m not even quite sure how to describe this. For now, I’m calling it the “push you up against the wall with a knife at your throat thing”, since that is the image in my head of what I (figuratively) do, and it just might be the best description of what I’m talking about here.

The pattern as I see it unfolding is that I spend a huge amount of time trying to resolve something (in this case, the problems in life); I believe I tried everything I could think of: rational conversation, listening, fighting, doing what I’m told, asking a million questions, fighting some more, therapy, giving in, pleading, crying, yelling, talking, talking, talking, coming up with creative solutions, asking some more questions, shutting up, etc., etc., etc. If it exists, I tried it at one point or another. And then.

And then time ran out. Everything became, in one excruciating moment, too much: too overwhelming, too frustrating, too sad, too impossible to overcome.
But the thing I was not done with was business itself, nor my belief in it as an entity. That key difference – it was lost in the pain and fighting, and especially in my risky move to bring everything to a head. When I say that I recently realized the risk I took, it is because what I really realized was that, even as I pinned him up against the wall, I fully expected that it would not allow me to do this. I was sure it would be so shaken at his core that he would realize the severity of the situation, of the things I had done to contribute to this, and drop everything.

At the time, I was not conscious of this, but this is what it was; this is what I did, and this is how everything responded. Do I blame people? Yes. Do I blame myself? Yes. Does any of this matter now? No; because this is life, and life, it turns out, is nothing more than moments where you either risk or don’t risk, and you either win or lose. In this case, I risked everything and lost it, too. Whether it was a conscious act or not, whatever my intention was – what does it matter? All that’s left is the debris, and I am somewhere between trying to find my peace with everything, not letting the guilt kill me, trying to remain compassionate towards everything, and creating a new life from scratch.

And as the year closes today, what I’m thinking about the most is that a risk is just that, a risk. It is a chance you take, and that chance includes utter failure. It is a thing that brings with it consequences that can be sad and frightening and catastrophic, and you must be willing to be held to those if you choose to take the risk. It is a thing that does not care about intentions or feelings, that does not always have a happy or heroic ending. It is a moment, one that defines everyone involved. It is something that can go horribly wrong, making your life explodes into pieces so innumerable and tiny, you don’t know how to pick them all up, or if you even can.

I have spent the majority of 2009 trying to wish it all away. Tonight, this year is mercifully over, and while I feel frightened and overwhelmed by what 2010 might bring, I have a new plan with me, one that I really hope will help me get strong footing in this new life of mine.
When the new year breaks, we’ll just have to see what awaits.

  1. Bhutto says:

    Very well written dude

  2. Muzzamil says:

    So true… Dude i may copy some part of this post if needed for my blog:-D…

  3. Akber Shah says:

    Wonderful, I need this post, i need the rights

  4. Mustafa Hassan says:

    Me toooooooooooooo

  5. Jo Hart says:

    An awesome blog to close the file

  6. Abeeda Jilani says:

    An awesome blog…

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