Risk

Every time I post in this blog, or talk to people with radical honesty about my life, I take risks. 


I risk the judgement of others. 

Judge away. It's not that I don't care what others think about me, it's just that, well, actually, I don't care what others think about me. I am who I am, I believe what I believe, and I respect others' rights to their own thoughts, opinions, and beliefs. I just hope others will give me the same respect.

I risk losing a lot.

I risk losing friends who don't view the world in the same way I do. Perhaps I'm too Christian (or not Christian enough) for some, too liberal for others, and too crunchy for many...I've even been accused of being too open-minded. Is that actually possible? Perhaps I say something that goes so far against what someone holds dear that they can't see past my statement to the person they call friend.

I risk losing opportunities to get together with friends or to take care of other people's children because I'm perhaps too honest about my crazy health escapades. In reality, a snapshot of how I'm feeling and doing at any point in time during any given day can be starkly contrasted by how differently I'm feeling and doing on a different day. That I can manage disability and enjoy myself or be an effective and safe caregiver is a difficult concept to comprehend. 

I risk making a fool of myself and/or embarrassing my children.

Then again, since much of the time I am a fool, it's only natural that that might happen more often than not. And isn't it a parents' job to embarrass their kids? I hold this parental duty very seriously!

I risk the consequences of telling my truth. 

See all of the above.

I have thought about holding back at times. Not posting things I feel strongly about, or perhaps toning down my words or my feelings. But that carries risks, too.

I risk not being completely truthful in what I say. If I'm going to say something, I'm going to say it with radical honesty. I know that my truth is just that, my truth. I don't expect it to be anyone else's, but hope, perhaps, that my truth might resonate with someone else and at the very least make someone think about something a bit differently than they have in the past. Or help the person find their truth. 

I risk not being true to myself.
I risk not being my self. 
As it turns out, with all of my many issues, being my self is more amazing than I'd ever thought it could be. Even when shriveled into a ball of pain. Especially when out in nature with my family. And even when people think or say negative things about me. My life is good. My life is full of passion. My life is full.

And best of all, being my authentic self has in and of itself invited other authentic people into my life. People who aren't afraid to ask questions about my capabilities, knowing my disabilities. People who accept my answer that I will always be honest with them about my abilities or lack thereof - perhaps even more honest than I am with myself at times. People who respect my point of view even if it's not their own. People who are radically honest with me. 

It's worth the risk. Life, and joy, and passion, and communication are worth the risk. I'm worth the risk. You are worth the risk.