The Risk of Becoming

Dear My Next Big Risk,

You're a lot. You're going to give me a lot of headaches, you know that, right?

I'm already panicking. I'm already anxious just thinking about you and how crazy you sound. But I'll say it anyway.

I'm moving to another city a city far from the one I've called home my entire life. It's crazy. And the funny part is, I don't even like the city. Not at all.

I could give you a million reasons why I don't like it. But for some reason, I feel like maybe it's time to leave my comfort zone. Maybe it's time to take the next step. Maybe it's time to see what this city has to offer. Maybe it's time to move away from my past and begin a new present.

Maybe part of me going to that city in the first place was part of my healing.

The funny thing is, I never imagined I would want to return there. I remember counting down the days on the calendar, waiting to come back to the place where I grew up. I couldn't wait to leave.

But now that I'm back, I want to go back.

Even though people keep discouraging me, telling me there's nothing left there for me, a part of me still wonders...

Maybe there is.

Leaving your comfort zone is one of the craziest things a person can do. Moving to a city in the middle of the country might be the craziest thing I've ever chosen. But maybe it's also one of the bravest.

People often think it's only difficult when you don't know anyone there. But even when you have relatives, it's still hard. Living with people who aren't your parents or siblings takes adjustment. It means learning new routines, new boundaries, and a different way of living.

It also means showing parts of yourself you've kept hidden because you thought you were only there temporarily.

That's exactly how I felt.

I never imagined I would return to that city, so I never let people see all of me. But now, here I am, packing my belongings again, preparing to go back.

Every day I wake up with anxiety.

Even as I write this letter, I'm panicking. I'm taking deep breaths because reality is beginning to settle in.

This is really happening.

It's going to be hard.

But maybe it's for the best.

This letter isn't only to the city. It's also to the part of me that built walls so high that almost no one could get close.

I know we've been through a lot. I know we've been hurt. Those walls were built to protect us.

But maybe it's time to bring them down a little.

Not all the way.

Just a little.

I'm still scared. I still want to be in control.

But maybe we can peek over those walls. Maybe we can let someone in this time instead of pushing everyone away before they even have a chance.

Yes, it's going to be hard.

I'm already panicking just thinking about it.

But maybe it won't be bad.

Maybe it will.

Maybe it won't.

We won't know unless we try.

And to another part of my next big risk...

The part of me that insists on doing everything alone.

The part that expects nothing from anyone because expecting nothing means never being disappointed.

Maybe we should try something different.

Maybe we should trust one person.

Maybe we should ask for help when we need it instead of convincing ourselves that we're disturbing everyone.

It won't be easy.

But we can try.

I can try.

So, to my risks

You're part of me.

You're part of my flaws, my walls, my guards, and every piece of who I am.

You've made me strong.

But maybe strength isn't only about protecting yourself.

Maybe strength is also found in being vulnerable.

Maybe being a little softer won't be so bad.

Maybe accepting help won't make me weak.

Maybe letting someone in won't break me.

And maybe...

Just maybe...

This is the risk of becoming the person I've been too afraid to be.

Yours,

The girl who's still afraid, but choosing to try anyway.