On playing it safe and what happens when we don't ✊
A reader asks how to break out of her boundaries.
“I have lived my life playing it safe. I will turn 55 in December. How do I break out of this mindset to live my life to the fullest and break out of my boundaries?”
This question landed in my DMs last week after I posted about a time I stepped out with a brave spirit, even when I had no idea what I was doing or where it would take me.
I was 24 and an inexperienced traveller venturing solo to Costa Rica. That trip was all new terrain for me. I scraped by with my basic Spanish, took buses to remote towns, hiked up the highest peak with a backpack that was way too heavy, and problem-solved my way out of some tricky situations. The biggest challenge (and, ultimately, benefit) of all was spending three weeks by myself.
Have you ever spent three weeks by yourself!?
Of course, I had the company of fellow travellers and the friendly Ticos I met, but I had never before experienced so much time with my own thoughts, my own decisions, my own humour.
It was such a transformative experience that I dedicated a whole chapter of my book to it.
So that was one ‘stepping out of my boundaries’ experience bookended by another: bringing my family to Costa Rica while the pandemic continues to rattle the world.
We didn’t take any of it lightly and the trip came about as a result of much research, debating, planning, and finally leaping into the void when we actually booked our plane tickets and accommodations. [I wrote to my Subscribers in my Letters Home 💌 #5 about the decision to come down here, so I’ll save those special insights for them!]
Overall, we were done with ‘playing it safe,’ by which I mean staying home any longer. We waited until travel had picked up and vaccines were available, and then found a country where we could afford to rent an apartment for several weeks. We are still keeping within pandemic restrictions down here (masking indoors, etc.) and, the truth is, we’re able to keep our physical distance from people much more easily than at home. We’re outside all the time, even for eating. It’s pandemic life, elsewhere.
But, trust me, I had every reason to pull the plug on this trip: Missed school plus isolation time when we arrived back home; ever-changing rules and restrictions, which could lead to a loss of money already spent on the trip; extra money spent if we needed to stay down here longer than anticipated. And the point of the trip was to relax after such a taxing year. Would I actually be able to?
I was so worried about facing the potential disappointment if the trip was cancelled that I didn’t pack our bags until right before we left. I honestly couldn’t face it, but with each object I placed in the suitcases, I put a bit more trust that we would make it to Costa Rica, and that the trip would be what we envisioned.
And now we’re here.
And I have zero regrets.
I see the smiles on my children’s faces—the kind of uninhibited joy I haven’t witnessed in the past 18 months apart from on Christmas morning. I see my eight-year-old coming back into equilibrium after many months of feeling off. Our family is spending quality time together in a year where Paul is away a lot for work as the world reopens. I feel myself decompressing, loosening, relaxing, and refuelling—like I’m coming back into my own body again.
So, back to my reader’s question. I promised her I’d answer it in my next installment of Field Notes.
Before I begin, I’ll be honest: I’ve never felt qualified to give ‘advice,’ so I’ll speak from personal experience and let you decide what you keep.
My short answer to the question is, “I think it’s what my book is about.” 🤣 No, really. Sometimes we don’t see the common themes and threads until the book is complete. Lights to Guide Me Home is about the many times I chose not to play it safe, and what ensued afterwards.
Now, the longer answer (apart from when you have a chance to read the book). I have never considered myself to be a “natural” adventurer. I’m an apprehensive one, at best. My tendency to need to think things through at times gives me little room for spontaneity. When I am presented with a plan or a chance to do something out of my comfort zone I immediately go through a mental checklist of everything that makes me uncomfortable and how I’ll deal with it.
Over time, though, I learned to ask myself a single question: What’s the worse that can happen?
Most of the time, the answer is something along the lines of…
“I might not like it and then I never have to do it again.”
“It makes me uncomfortable but, hey, I’ve given birth to two babies. What could be worse?”
“My plan may fail, but nothing is permanent.”
“So-and-so may not like it, but why does their opinion matter?”
Now, I’m fortunate to have a partner who has frequently drawn me out of my comfort zone. Even when I’m kicking and screaming inside, I’ve learned that when Paul suggests something there’s a 9.8/10 chance that I’ll be very grateful that I hiked that extra 300 metres of elevation / did that side trip / travelled to that country / pushed my bike up a mountain… the list goes on. But I’ve needed to learn how to cultivate that desire to do the unconventional, to do the things that scare me, even when they are hard. For myself.
So, I ask myself this question (“What’s the worst that can happen?”) and then I break it all down into micro-steps.
What’s the next logical step?
What do I need to learn?
What questions need answering?
Who might I need to talk to?
I nibble away at “The Thing” until, the next thing I know, I’ve taken a step out over the precipice.
I have applied this approach to everything from buying stocks to buying a house, climbing a mountain, or travelling with a baby. And certainly to the two times that I travelled to Costa Rica.
I then tap into how I’m feeling. Usually, it’s still a bit of apprehension mixed with a sense of accomplishment. But, like anything in life, once you’ve done something once, you’ve already taken some of the scariness out of it. I keep tip-toeing this way until I’m ready to go deeper.
Again, tap into the feeling. Are you still breathing? Still alive? Good. Has your life been enriched because of “The Thing”?
I’ll bet it has, even if you decide it’s not something you want to do again.
More often than not, it’ll whet your appetite for more.
And the next thing you know you’ve stepped way beyond what you thought you were capable of.
The point is, to start small. Practise on the little things. Then break the larger goals down into little steps.
Step by step, you’ll get there. ❤️
I’d love to hear from you, too. How did you stop playing it safe? Any tips for our reader?
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What’s caught my attention lately… ✨
This episode of For the Love, Your Body is YOU, with Jen Hatmaker and Dr. Hillary McBride — This series encourages us to show ourselves kindness and truly embrace how we can care for ourselves in a world that has told us, specifically women, that we should put ourselves last. A psychologist and researcher, Dr. McBride’s work lands at the intersection of spirituality and mental health, trauma, body image and eating disorders, embodiment, and feminist psychology. This episode was very powerful.
Check these out too… 🙌
Mailing List - Memoir - Join my list to find out more about the travelogue/memoir coming out in Fall 2022.
The Wonders That I Find - My children’s book is now available! 🌿
My Email Newsletter - Yes, different from Substack. This newsletter is for specific updates about my books and various projects.
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