Risks are part of life, whether we like it or not. No one really escapes them. Every choice we make carries some form of uncertainty, even the ones that feel safe. Sometimes the risk we take may may be loud and obvious, other times it’s quiet and personal. We take risks by trying, and we take risks by not trying. By staying, and by leaving. I used to think risks were mainly about money, but life taught me different lessons.
For a long time, whenever people talked about risks, my mind went straight to finances. Investing money, starting a business, putting funds into something and hoping it works out. That was my mindset too. And yes, I’ve taken financial risks. I’ve lost money, learned lessons the hard way, and dealt with regret before accepting it as part of the process. But over time, I realized that financial risks are just one category. There are other risks that cost more than money. Risks that affect your peace, your confidence, and how you see yourself.
In 2025, I experienced this firsthand. I started learning a tech skill that was completely outside my comfort zone and far from anything I was familiar with. That alone felt risky. I invested time, energy, and money into it. I struggled, pushed myself, and tried to adjust. Then I reached a point where I couldn’t continue learning and practicing the way it required. Ending it felt like another risk entirely. Starting was a risk. Stopping was also a risk. I lost a few things in the process, including time and resources, but I see it as part of growing. That risk taught me a lesson in clarity.
But the risks that mattered most to me weren’t financial or career-based. They were emotional. Emotional risks aren’t talked about enough. Things like choosing peace over familiarity, and choosing yourself over constant approval. These risks don’t come with clear outcomes. They come with fear, doubt, and the possibility of being misunderstood. Still, they shape you deeply.
Last year, I had to set firm boundaries with people. And boundaries do one important thing, they limit access. They stop people from treating you in ways you once allowed just because you were too nice to push back. I’ve always been someone who says yes as long as I can. Even when it drained me. Even when it hurt. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone or be labeled selfish or inconsiderate. But always saying yes takes a toll. It slowly drains your energy and teaches people that your comfort doesn’t matter.
So I made a decision to start saying no sometimes. To people and situations that took away my peace. At first, I wondered if it was worth it. I questioned myself and felt uneasy. Then I tried it. I said no to a situation that wasn't sitting right with me.And it felt good. I felt proud of myself. I didn’t overthink it. For once, choosing myself felt right. I may lose a few people along the way, but that only shows who was around for access and convenience. And honestly, that’s a win. Choosing myself was the biggest risk I took, and it’s one I don’t regret.
