What price are you paying for your “safety”?

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Our minds are remarkable—they can construct entire realities to make us feel secure. Yet these imagined worlds often diverge sharply from the truth. We tell ourselves stories to shield us from discomfort and risk, but at what cost?

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The costs

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“She hasn’t returned my call twice. Maybe she’s not interested in me.”
(So, I won’t reach out again, sparing myself the pain of rejection or embarrassment.)

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“If I suggest this business opportunity to him, he’ll think I’m reckless and exploiting our friendship.”
(It’s easier to keep quiet than to face the fear of rejection and misunderstanding.)

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“If I apply for the job I really want, they’ll think I’m a fool. I might fail.”
(Staying in my uninspiring job feels safer than risking disappointment.)

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“If I talk to the stranger beside me on the bus, she’ll assume I have an agenda.”
(Avoiding that small, awkward effort feels more comfortable.)

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“If I get divorced, people will blame me.”
(So, I won’t take the risk and I'll stay stuck in a boring, lifeless marriage."

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“If I tried to lose weight before and I failed. There's just not a way.”

(So, I won’t take the risk of failing again and I'll stay obese for the rest of my life.)

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What you "know" will destroy your life

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These patterns of thought might seem protective, but they limit us profoundly.

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Step beyond what you “know”

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What if the certainty you cling to—the “knowledge” that shields you—isn’t knowledge at all, but an illusion, a least a partial one? Identify something you believe to be true, but might not be as true as you think it is. Then, summon the courage to take a small risk, to step into the unknown.

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Uncertainty is uncomfortable. But certainty? That’s where growth stops.

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"The more fear you consistently step into by choosing courage, the safer you will begin to feel in life."

—Dwight GoldWinde

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"To be uncertain is to be uncomfortable, but to be certain is to be ridiculous." 

—Chinese proverb

 

"The lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house as a guest,

and then becomes a host, and then a master."

—Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931, Lebanese poet, novelist)