Tonight you get a sad post on account of my brain is tired.
I like taking risks.
It’s a good feeling.
But I also like making those around me happy.
My family doesn’t like me to take risks.
They like me to stay in the mold.
I remember the first time my dad saw me wearing make-up during the day.
I was 27.
He made a vague comment about superficial people.
That was a small risk but I didn’t let his opinion discourage me from looking however the hell I wanted to.
Years earlier, when my then-fiance and I decided to move to Mexico after we got married, there was an uproar in both families.
My husband doesn’t like taking risks.
I think he was just going along with my risk-taking for several years until he got fed up with it.
Before that, at some point during high school I got tired of the education system and decided to home-school.
I started going to our community college at 16 and then there was a disconnect with my friends from childhood.
Of course college girls thought I was too little and some sort of child genius, and the guys who hit on me were perverts.
Those are all things that didn’t matter to me at the time but they’ve really defined my adulthood.
Even with its cons, I am glad I took that risk because it showed I had control of my own life.
I haven’t always been so intrepid.
When I was 13 I wanted to parasail but my mom didn’t let me.
I really wish I had.
Maybe a lot of people my age now have kids and they look back and think, “I wish I had been a better son or daughter,” but I really wish I had taken more risks.
I wish I had been more disobedient.
See, nowadays I wouldn’t windsurf. I’m too scared.
But I wouldn’t be scared if I had done it then.
Now I wouldn’t move to Mexico.
It seems unreasonable.
But that unreasonableness is not rooted in me.
It stems from a fear of contradicting my husband.
When I was 11 I recall a concert at our school.
The flutes had a difficult part in the melody and I was the only one who had practiced sufficiently.
I knew the part.
My friends didn’t.
I didn’t want to stand out from them and make them look bad.
So I didn’t play the part well on purpose.
What kind of person does that?
A self-oppressed person.
I have this desire to take risks for the fun of it, but there is this sensation- this fear of disapproval that restrains me.
Even with guys- yes, even with guys.
I remember a couple times when my friends had crushes on really cute guys I secretly liked and who told me they liked me.
I turned them away because I didn’t want to make my friends feel bad.
It is one’s own responsibility to seek out one’s happiness.
No one else is going to do that for you, no matter how much someone loves you.
There is a very fine line between protecting someone out of love and trying to keep them within our ideals for our own benefit.
I often wonder what I could accomplish if I could just be me, unquestioned, confident, acknowledged, supported…
Happiness should be a risk worth taking.
In response to WP Daily Prompt: Take a Chance On Me