Normally, I am not a risk taker. I usually get pushed into a taking a risk or find myself in a position where I really have to take a risk.

For example, my job years ago was literally killing me and I was on disability. I had a choice of going back to the killing job or looking elsewhere. I ended up taking a job in a city about 2 1/2 hours from where I lived. I got a small apartment in that city and worked there during the week and came home every weekend. I knew I was taken a big risk with a new job, leaving my husband and moving to another city. As things turned out, my husband divorced me after I released after 8 months and when I went back to work, he had me served me with divorce papers when I got home that weekend. At least by taking the risk of getting the job, I had employment and an apartment to go to.

I am most comfortable with things I know and hate having to take risks, although sometimes I do decide to take someone up on their offer of going to their home ( along distance trip) and I usually have a lovely time. The unknown is very scary to me, maybe because the risks I have taken have not turned out so well.

The biggest risk I took was leaving my home in New York and moving to Texas to marry a man I had worked with for 20 years. It turned out that I really didn’t know him as well as I thought I did and I was extremely unhappy. However, I stayed in the marriage until he served me with divorce papers the weekend I came home from Austin as I related above.

Earlier in life, I took a risk to gain supervisory experience by taking a job in another state agency from the one I was working in. I hated the job but stayed there two years until another position opened up in my old agency and I returned with supervisory experience and qualifications for a promotion. That was a risk that turned out both bad (I hated the job) and good (I gained the experience I needed and returned to the job I loved).

Maybe I have poor judgment, or just back luck, but the risks I take usually don’t turn out well. I took a risk last year by converting to Islam. While I don’t regret the risk, I have suffered much at the hands of my family because of it. This was one risk I was not forced into. I chose to do this freely, but the track recored of taking risks that turn out badly has continued.

I don’t usually chose to take risks. I like things to be just the way they were. But one doesn’t grow unless one takes risks and so risks will always be a part of life. I’m just hoping that my risk taling turns out better in the future.

About mairedubhtx

I am a "youngish" grandmother of 15 year old twin granddaughter who has recently (is a year "recent"?) adopted Islam as my way of life, much to the consternation of my family. I love to read. I love to write. I am writing a book about my decision to revert, about my spiritual journey. I have another blog about stories from my youth, my parents, and grandparents. It's a blog so my OCD daughter will not be able to throw it out when I die. I suffer from depression and anxiety, for which I am treated, so my posts may be a bit dark at times. C'est la vie.
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1 Response to Risks

  1. The Hook says:

    I’m not a risk-taker either, although marriage can be considered the Ultimate Risk!

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