When I think of "risk," I think of stepping outside of my comfort zone. The bubble that protects my sanity, self esteem, and feeling of security gets rubbed by something from the outside. Its fragile membrane could be broken by any sudden movement. My precious bubble gives a little with the exterior friction. There's a chance of it popping, and all hell could possibly break lose.
If taking a risk stirs up so much commotion, then why do people still choose to take them? It could be because they think that the outcome will be good. Or because they want attention. Or they just want change.
But when I take a "risk," it's an impulsive decision that I don't really think through. And I usually end up regretting it, even if it turns out to be OK. The uncertainty of not knowing how things are going to turn out is scary, and I'm not a fan of it. When I take a risk, the stability of everything in my bubble is at stake. The bubble is slightly nudged, which sends its content into temporary chaos until everything can settle. It's that nauseous twisting that you get in your stomach when you don't know what's going to happen. If the consequence of my risk is a positive one, then the bubble comes to a standstill and all is right in the world. If the consequence of my risk is a negative one, then everything in the bubble is shaken up with no sign of calming down.
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