DScottGRRL

Safety first, I always say.

I’m not what you would call a risk-taker. I’ve pretty much always taken the road more traveled. Self-preservation, I say.

Risk-averse–that’s me. Probably the most risky thing I’ve done is move to LA. Which for most people, I’m sure, doesn’t seem risky at all, but it was huuuuge for me–leaving a good job, my brother, my home for 7 years, for a place I’d never even visited and wasn’t too impressed by in the abstract. Huge. Anyway, it’s turned out better than I expected so I’m definitely not complaining.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is when it comes to that whole risk/reward argument, I tend to err on the side of caution.

Well, this weekend I ended up in a high-risk situation–not physical risk, though, more like risk to my fragile self-esteem and delicate equilibrium.

The potential reward was manifested in a monetary sum and a feather in my professional cap.

Now I clearly didn’t think this one through very well. Jumped right into it, head-first, nary a thought for the potential risk–rejection and a stinging blow to my personal wellbeing.

Nevertheless, I was in and once I’m in, I’m in. Quitters never win, you know.

Jump forward to today, three days later, disaster having loomed but not actually materialized, my sanity and equilibrium intact after a very close call.

So the question, I ask, is: was it worth it? The tummy aches, headaches, heart palpitations, nagging self-doubt, the interminable Overthink.

When you think about it like that, it’s not about the money. It probably never was, actually. (I love things, but I absolutely abhor money)

It was about proving myself–something that I thought I could knock off in two hours really kicked my ass for a while there and it pissed me off royally.

Not cool.

I like to think of myself as an undercover overachiever–although some will be quick to point out I’m not all that undercover.

Like I’ve said before, I like to stay pretty incognito with my competitiveness–it’s just not pretty. I’m definitely not good at everything (my geography is despicable) and in those instances, I’d simply rather be a non-competitor.

This weekend was not pretty.

But like I said, I was in. I was pushed–by myself and external forces to really work for once. I was challenged. Rejection flirted with me and I can’t say I was oblivious to his come-on.

But I jus doh work so. Even if it had gone on for more than the 48 hours I doubt I could have brought myself to quit.

Luckily, third time’s a charm, and while I can’t say that I came out unscathed, I am pretty proud of myself. It wasn’t the smooth sailing I envisioned, but it was a taste of real life after my having coasted for a good bit. Not a bad idea to get the blood flowing, the heart rate up, the creative–and stomach–juices churning, every once in a while. Makes you feel alive.

Now the big question: Having faced the risk and tasted the reward, would I put myself out there like that again?

Yeh, I think so. In fact, yes, definitely. Even if I fall on my ass. Character-building, I say.

You just probably won’t find me blogging about it.