A friend of mine told me he was going to do some work on his roof today. I just told him to be careful up there. It’s raining. Then it just hit me this a topic I need to write about – Risk.
Now I by no means am an authority on this subject. I’m not a daredevil, adrenaline junkie or even a casual gambler. Hell, I’m not an authority on any subject at all except myself, and I’m not even so sure about that. Some days I can barely dress myself.
That’s silly you say? One day while getting out of my car about to walk into work I paused, “do I have pants on?” I actually looked down to make sure I was wearing pants. 
All I can do is speak to you about my life experiences and hope you can find some part of them to relate to or some part that speaks to you. We all know someone who thinks they are an authority on everything. C’mon, I know you know someone like that. I know you know how annoying that is too. The know-it-all type. Ugh! Well, just to preface anything you might read by me, for the record, I know nothing.
So Risk. What is worth the risk? What things in life are worth risking to you? Is your safety worth risking by going on a slippery roof in the rain just to clean the gutters? They’ll be dirty next week. Wait til it stops raining. Not worth the risk.
My sister and her boyfriend just opened a cafe in Colorado. Put their house, their life savings on the line. Is possible bankruptcy worth risking to take a chance on their lifelong dream of opening a restaurant? Absolutely. Dreams are more important than gutters.
I read an article one time where someone was interviewing elderly people asking them what is the thing they regret most about their life. Now that they have many years behind them, what is it that they would change if they could do things differently? You’d think, as I did, they would say things like not spending enough time with family/friends, working too much, not saying “I love you” more, not ever taking that dream trip to Bora Bora.
But no, overwhelmingly the most common response was “I didn’t take enough risks”. Wow. That struck me. Not just one person, but the overwhelming majority said that.
Got me thinking – have I taken enough risks? Have I wasted these last 46 years because I was too scared to do things, too scared to take chances?
I’m happy to say the answer is no. Like I said, I don’t go base jumping on a regular basis or anything like that. Hell, I’ve never even been skydiving. My courageous sister and her boyfriend of course have already done that. I’m okay with not base jumping or skydiving. I don’t feel when I’m on my deathbed that I’ll regret not doing either of those. The risk there is not worth the reward to me. But that’s just me. Hey, go jump out of a plane if you want to!
But besides these small examples, I feel I have taken risks. Risky to me anyway. Risk is subjective after all. Maybe my risktaking is small potatoes to some, but it has been monumental to me. And that’s all that matters.
As I’ve said before, I feel I currently live an abnormally normal life which I’m completely happy with. But that wasn’t always the case.
I used to live a normally normal life. And I hated it. I did the usual – went to college, had a good cubicle job, moved out on my own eventually (not a moment too soon for my mother. She always said if I was still living at home by the time I was 30 she was gonna kick me out. I moved out at 24. Damn, I should have stayed 6 more years, would have saved a lot of money!) Anyway, all totally normal.
Then one day, I got laid off. No more nice cubicle job with the nice health insurance and the nice benefits. Ten years then poof! Laid off.
I dilly-dallied around for months. Half-assedly applying to boring cubicle job after boring cubicle job. Then I finally said to myself what am I doing? I don’t even want another cubicle job. It’s just what I was used to. It was the job I had out of high school that turned into a big girl job. You know, that career that you just kind of fall into, you didn’t actually pick it. It wasn’t what I went to college for. What my degree in psychology is for I still don’t know but whatever, I have a degree. Thanks mom!
So why am I applying to jobs I don’t want in a field (law) I don’t even want to be in? Why am I doing this? Because I don’t know anything else? Because it’s comfortable? Because it’s safe? Well fuck comfortable and safe! So I went and became a veterinary technician.
Well let’s just say that didn’t work out either. Too emotionally draining. Too pocketbook draining. $8.00 an hour doesn’t get you very far. But at least I had tried it. I risked the safe job for something I was passionate about – animals. Unfortunately, the job wasn’t what I expected and I realized I wasn’t cut out for it. But that’s ok. At least now I knew.
But something even better came out of it. Through working as a vet tech I roundaboutly found the career that I love and am still in today – the restaurant business. I was so broke at this vet tech job that I got a part time job at my local watering hole, aka homebase, bussing tables. I just plain needed the money. And I had no car at the time (hey, when you’re down you’re down) so it was the only place I could work that I could walk to. Desperate times call for desperate bussing jobs.
I loved it. Absolutely loved it. Loved the whole restaurant vibe, everything about it. Months later I worked my way up to serving and realized I loved that even more. Loved it so much that I took another risk. Totally quit the vet office and went into serving full time. Quite a risk as you never know how much you’re going to make from night to night in the service industry, but it was more than $8.00 an hour I can tell you that.
Seventeen years later I’m still serving and I can’t imagine doing anything else.
Relatively big risks so far. The next one was colossal in comparison.
So in my new career as a server I met my husband. Bleh, I hate that word husband. No dis to him, he was a nice guy. But I realized I’m not the marrying type. Hey, we all make mistakes. One I’ll never make again thank you. So why did I do it? I have no idea. Because I thought I was supposed to I guess? I was in my early thirties, he was the nicest guy to come along so far, and oh, he asked. So we got married, bought a house, got a dog, Sam. Oh yeah, and during that time I went back to a dreaded cubicle job.
But why you say? You went through so much to get out of that whole mess. I know. Believe me I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was thinking of stability and security. I was thinking, what am I gonna be a server forever? Now that I’m married I should have a more stable, “grown up” job. Then we can get a house, have a normal life and be – happy?
Wrong. I was miserable. This normal life was sheer misery. I married the wrong person. Bought a house I wasn’t ready for, got a dog my husband wasn’t ready for. And now had a soul sucking job at a new Death Star.
Yep, I went to the dark side. Joined the evil empire of storm troopers disguised as cubicles. Most days I cried pulling into the parking lot of the Death Star. Just seeing that building every morning, breathing evil, looming over me, sucking a little bit of my soul from me every single day was sheer misery.
I was dying inside. Is this really all there is? Surely, this can’t be it? My life was over.
Then I woke up. The proverbial ton of bricks fell on me one day and I ended it. Ended the marriage, sold the house, unfortunately had to rehome the dog. Don’t worry folks, the dog went to a great home with a great normal family. I made damn sure of it. SPCA was and is never an option people! My dog was what stopped the bricks from falling on me sooner. I’ll probably never get a pet with anyone again. Alone, maybe. Never with another person. That is a gut wrenching guilt that I’ll never go through again but it’s always there, in the back of my mind. Ugh, let’s move on, quickly, before I start crying.
So at 35 years old I gave up everything. I had to keep the Death Star job unfortunately because now I was broke. From two incomes to one, paying for a house I couldn’t afford, trying to care for my poor, innocent bystander dog alone. I was broke, overworked, exhausted and exasperated. When we will sell this house? Where will I live next? What will happen to poor Sam? I was scared.
But in all that fear I never once thought I made the wrong decision. Not once. I’m sure people thought I was crazy giving up this stable, secure life path. But I was willing to take the risk. And I’ve never looked back.
Next up, the fall of the Death Star.
So now I was much happier. Sam went to a nice family. The house finally sold (not without a huge loss, hey, thems the breaks). I found a nice, affordable apartment nearby. I was still enjoying my part time serving job. I was introduced to a new group of friends. I was ready to start living the life I wanted. I just remembered something that I did with this new group of friends that kinda goes along with this story. Like I’ve said, my mind can go off on a million tangents. This one ties in though.
This group of friends was fun. They did things, went places, really experienced life to the fullest – the opposite of my years prior. They were go go go and I was in in in. Give me experiences! Give me fun! Give me life!
One summer day we went to Canal Days at a park nearby where the canal fed into the river. It was a festival of sorts with the feature being the Highland Games. Hay bale tossing, jousting on a balance beam over the water, spear tossing – you get the idea. It was great. Food, bands, kayaks, and drinking of course. Hey that’s what we were good at!
Anyway, towards the end of the day after the festival organizers packed up and left, people started jumping into the canal. You weren’t allowed to but after all the official people were gone, it was on. I watched. I wanted to join in, but I admit I was intimidated. There was about a 10 foot waterfall where the canal fed into the river. You could walk out into the ankle deep water, get a running start and jump over the waterfall into the spillway below. Gross. This is the Schuylkill River we’re talking about after all. Who knows what’s in that water! Disease, hypodermic needles, dead bodies? No one seemed to care though. The fun was worth it.
I was hesitant to say the least. I do have a small (ok, kinda big) fear of water after all. My friends kept nudging me to go. Finally one friend said he’d hold me and we could jump together. After one more gulp of my liquid courage in a can (PBR) I said fuck it. Let’s go! It was risky. I mean, there was obviously no lifeguard around, just a bunch of drunk people. Who would help me if I panicked and couldn’t swim out? What would I do if I got a hypodermic needle stuck in my leg? What would I do if I brushed by a dead body – ahhhh!!!
Or, what would I do if I loved it?
So he picked me up, one hand under my back, one under my legs, and off we went! Right over that amazing ledge and splash! right into the water below.
It was exhilarating! One of the best moments of my life. It was my rebirth. My rebaptism. All the risk I had taken months before to leave my old life behind culminated into this one symbolic moment. I felt – alive.
I think I jumped two more times that day. And many more times, many different days after that. No needles in the leg, no dead bodies, no drowning. That one feeling of complete exhilaration was beyond worth it. I can still feel that tingle of euphoria to this day, 10 years later. The power of all that rushing water was nothing compared to the power of that emotion.
I’ll never regret taking that risk and jumping.
Ok, sorry, major tangent there. I think I was going to talk about the fall of the Death Star. That came a few years later. My fearless sister and her boyfriend had moved to Colorado by this point. Took their whole life and packed it up in a truck and said see ya! No jobs, no idea what they were going to do. But they took a chance on happiness. Through a lot of ups and downs larger than the Rockies, they found happiness. Ten years later and they’re still there, working at their cafe, loving life. Living that abnormal life. Admiration isn’t a strong enough word.
Anyway, a few months after they initially moved there I went out to visit. Awestruck doesn’t even describe it. I loved it. All of it. The nature, the vibe, the people, the lifestyle. They were hooked and I could see why. My sister had been telling me I could move there and stay with her and her boyfriend. Sounds great, but I can’t really, actually do that. You guys are the people who take risks and move your life across the country. I’m not that much of a daredevil.
Or was I?
Turns out I was.
Two years after they moved there, so did I. Took me two years but I did it. One of the best decisions I ever made. After several visits there, and a lot of going back and forth in my mind of why I couldn’t do it I finally told myself to stop making excuses and start packing. So I did. I quit the Death Star, quit my serving job at homebase, put my cats in the backseat of my car, kissed my parents goodbye and off I went. No job, no direction (except west) and off I went. One thing I did promise myself, I would NEVER get a Death Star job again. And I didn’t.
I got a serving job out there. After trial and error found a hidden gem of a place and a job that I absolutely loved. It was set in stone – my Death Star days were now forever behind me. Watch that Death Star burn! I would never and will never go back to that cubicle life – where souls go to die. I felt like the guy in Office Space that pushes down his cubicle wall for a window view. I smashed that wall down and now had a glorious view of the mountains.
All 100% absofuckinglutely worth it.
Yeah, I’m back in Pennsylvania now – long story. But I will never ever regret my year and a half in Colorado. I know, seems short. But it was enough. Like I said, the risk of going there at all was monumental to me, no matter how long my stay was. I remember the exact moment though that I really decided to make the choice to move there. We were mountain biking at Red Rocks on one of my visits there and I remember stopping at the top of a ridge looking out over the amazing landscape. It was breathtaking.
Time stopped.
Everything about being on top of that ridge and looking out onto that vast expanse of beauty felt right. Can I make this my home? Can I really do this? Can I really change my whole life?
I can, and I did. I took the risk. Best decision ever. I loved my time there. Loved my job there, loved the friends I made. Loved the many great memories it gave me.
Most of all, I love that I faced my fear. Fear of the unknown. Took a chance that it wouldn’t work out and I went anyway. I risked stability, security, everything. I took a risk and got the abnormal normal life I always wanted and still have.
You can do it too. We all can. So Colorado or Pennsylvania or Bora Bora, wherever I’m at I’ll always try and take a risk.
You never know what’s over the waterfall, beyond the mountain, or around the corner.
CM
1/29/20
