It’s such a small, innocuous word. Little. Not momentous. It doesn’t roar or charge or give you any indication at all. That it’s hard. It’s scary. And it’s not just that what you have to do is difficult, it’s that you don’t always even know what the thing is that you should be doing.
With some things, changes comes easier. Other things are harder to risk.
Risk tolerance isn’t an absolute.
Without change, without risk, you can’t move forward, can’t explore the possibilities. You have to expose that which you want to protect or else you just stay in the same place. Marking time. Marching in place — growing wearing but not getting anywhere.
And if things weren’t hard enough already, the fear, the baggage, the weight all just serve to help you sabotage yourself. And so you fight it. And you breathe. And you try.
You risk. You change.