It’s Too Risky to Play It Safe All the Time
Celebrating my exhibition opening at the Met, 2025.
I recently read a great line in a novel.
A mother said to her adult daughter, “Sometimes I worry that you’ve become too…careful…with your life.”
Too careful.
The daughter in the book was a powerhouse who was living a small, safe life. Her heart had gotten broken, so she was unconsciously keeping it closed to new love. Her dreams were collecting dust. And she avoided situations where she didn’t feel confident. Her life was…fine. But her mom was right—she was being too careful.
I get it. I have an anxious, introverted side to me. I'm very gentle with myself. And I'm excellent at cocooning through hard times.
But sometimes I over-coddle myself. My inner protector gets a little too fussy and overbearing. It’s that voice that says, “no thanks, I’m comfortable with my routine,” or “that sounds fun but it’s way too much work.”
I avoid things that might exhaust me, forgetting that sometimes it’s worth it.
~
Listen, I can make a strong case for being careful.
First of all, really bad things do happen unexpectedly. My family went through multiple medical crises last year. When we go through something traumatic or heartbreaking, it can leave us feeling raw and very cautious. It can make us want to wrap up our loved ones in a blanket and shut the door. No sudden movements!
Second, burnout is real. Most of us know what it’s like to hit a breaking point. In recovery, our instinct might be to cancel everything and never commit ever again. We might climb aboard the “no” train and never look back.
And lastly, the news is screaming “caution!” There are very real threats looming, and the future feels wildly uncertain. It makes sense that our instinct is to self-protect during turbulence. We want to cut our losses, withdraw into our metaphorical (or actual?) bunkers, keep our heads down, and not take any chances.
Being vigilant and careful is an appropriate response to hardship, danger, or reduced capacity. But when we aren’t actually in crisis, carefulness can become a crutch that isn’t serving us.
We shrink our life and call it “self-care.”
~
I just got back from a month in New York. I was a consulting project manager for the Met Costume Institutes’s spring exhibition, which opened with the Met Gala. I coordinated a complex and powerful installation for a show called Superfine: Tailoring Black Style, and I’m very proud of my part in it.
But, Manhattan is a lot for me.
I’m a sensitive creature. The rushing, loud, crowded vibe of New York doesn't feel good to my body. The Met can be an intense place. And the project I worked on was high expectations, high stress, and high complexity. I had to be fully “on” and engaged all day, each day.
But guess what? I could handle it.
Not only could I handle it, but I enjoyed it. I did an exceptional job—without betraying or over-exhausting myself. I felt calm, capable, and present as I worked hard. I tended to my sensitivities and needs, but they didn’t hold me back from doing something exciting.
The experience was fulfilling on so many levels. Imagine if I had missed out in order to protect myself?
I had some jitters leading up to the trip. I had become very, very comfy in my routine at home. Health and family stuff was reasonably stable, so I was nervous to rock the boat.
But if I was being honest, I was also getting a bit restless. A subtle inner voice was asking for a little action. Part of me was dying to be surrounded by creative people, immersed in a stimulating project, and professionally challenged.
I even needed some of those cringey moments of wandering alone at a cocktail party and finding strangers to chat with. It builds character, right?
I'm not sugar-coating how much of a pain in the ass it is to travel with luggage in the rain, get to work by 7:50 AM every morning, and not have my pillow for a month. But I can truly say it was worth it. It was worth making an effort.
Because, yes, I have an anxious, introverted side to me who did not think a month of stress and germs was a good idea. But I also have a badass, drama-seeking, extroverted side. And it turns out, she was absolutely delighted to play on a big stage.
Sometimes being careful keeps us safe. Other times, it keeps us small.
In the end, the daughter in that novel went for it. She did the bravest thing possible: opened her heart to the world and all the ways it could hurt her…or ignite her.
So, please be careful out there.
But not too careful.
Your turn:
In what ways is being careful holding you back?
If you felt 5% braver, what would you try?
In this season of life, do you need coddling, boldness, or something in between?