Risky business

It is true. I am pretty risk averse. A friend recently tried skydiving for the first time, to which I responded with the thought that I would never in this world do such a thing ---- or even want to. But it made me think, what am I willing to risk, and why?

The risks I took in younger years had much more to do with rebellion than testing my mettle. I was never interested in anything athletic ---- sports bore me to tears. So the risks I took were more internal: defiance, infidelity, cheating, stealing and getting away with lies. It was enough excitement to raise the heartbeat, and was usually fueled by a goodly supply of alcohol and a few other substances. I developed a cynical stance toward "straight" people, by which I meant anyone who didn't behave as I did, church people, folks who followed the rules.

Now maybe the high to be gained from stealing lipstick from the dimestore is akin to the endorphin rush of making a touchdown. I wouldn't know. Both take some sort of courage, since there is the possibility of pain, and the outcome is uncertain. Since the things I was skilled at --- reading, writing, thinking, debating --- were not highly valued among my peers, I tried to keep them under wraps. It surely would have taken more courage to stand tall in my own sphere of accomplishments, regardless of what my classmates thought, but I preferred to hide my lights and find another way to show off. I guess that put me right out of the running for an after-school special; no book-nerd who makes good in spite of social ostracism for me.

The unfortunate aspect of this is that I tended to hide under the proverbial bushel for most of my life. Sure, once I got to college it became acceptable to be academically inclined, and I couldn't help but be challenged and intrigued by all the new ideas I encountered. But the habit of hiding out, of testing the waters and inventing my persona, had become so entrenched that I persisted, well beyond the point where even I could pretend it was good for me. I took hostages and called them husbands and boyfriends. I alternately smothered and neglected my child. I was consistently underemployed, spinning my wheels while I played approach-avoidance with college. When I finally graduated after seven and a half years, I stayed on welfare for another year, dithering about what to do with myself and working in scuzzy bars.

The role of risk in my life has continued to interest me. Long after I jumped off the cliff into recovery and sobered up, I was still engaging in emotional terrorism, unable to break from the old patterns. While I was no longer inclined toward my adolescent larcenies, I still felt that whoever my "real" self was, was not right, not good enough, would be shamed and made fun of. It was a shock to me that I didn't need the alcohol to spur me on; by that time I was self-sustaining when it came to risking everything for the thrill of another flirtation, another deception, getting away with whatever I could. In fact, one of the problems with early sobriety was the feeling that I had moved from life in the fast lane to life in the slow lane and I didn't like it one bit.

It is just possible that now I am simply old and tired, not really any wiser, but there seems to have been a fundamental shift in the last decade or so. A big part of the hidden self was revealed when I finally came out of the closet and stayed out. But it is not simply the fact that I finally embraced my sexual identity. I probably could have continued staggering from one emotional disaster to another for the rest of my life. I'd had plenty of practice. It was more that I finally, with the help of a therapist, slowed to a full halt and took stock --- lived alone, unattached, taking care of the business of life and figuring out what I like and want.

And that, my friends, was the biggest risk of all. For the first time, after 20 years of sobriety, 50 years on the planet, I came face to face with my unadorned self --- and didn't run away.

These days, the risks are still internal. They involve trusting enough to show and tell how I really feel. They involve being vulnerable enough to let another person know me. And most of all, I risk continuing to know myself, learn more, be imperfect. And the results are amazing, though they'll never show up on a TV show or in the public eye.

Don't look for me to jump out of any planes. I'll leave that to people who are interested in that sort of physical endeavor, and more power to them. No fast cars, highwire acts, motorcycles or mountain climbing for me. But that doesn't mean I don't step out into the world on my own highwire every day. I do, but you just can't see it. And that's all right with me.