gamble. it's an odd sounding word.

I don’t really care what people say about change, or that no one really does. I am my own proof and maybe I can be their exception.

If my life were a poker game I wouldn’t have any chips in front of me. I’m all in. I’m certainly no professional but it seems that anyone’s heart would pound after making that kind of a decision. There is a lot at stake, and there’s a lot to lose.

Welcome to my seat at the table. I’ve sat here a good long while, and back when I was the rule and not the exception I was quite the hoarder of my chips. 75% of the hands dealt me I’d fold without placing a bet. There never seemed to be a compelling reason to ‘go for it’. My cards were never great and bluffing was never (still isn’t) my game.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that after holding on to all that I had to give, putting it all out there to lose is less than relieving. And even while I’ve had a few really great hands, 3 come to mind, it still comes with a risk.

Some mornings I wake up and would like to pull the covers over my head and try again another day. I suppose it all stems from a fear of being inadequate (ie: I’m not holding a Royal Flush). I feel like one day everyone will find out that I’m not all I’m cracked up to be. I cry, I mess up, I can’t answer all the questions, and for all of my communication/relational advice I offer, I am in need of so much more myself.

I’m a professional bearer of burdens – have I mentioned that before? I never used to put myself into the things the way I will now. I found worthiness, and it demanded my change.
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When it comes down to it, I don’t want to take back my chips, I want them where they are. While the risk is great, and the risk is everything – so too is the potential reward.

In the mean time, my only goal is to learn how to balance the burden of great risk with the hope of greater rewards. Rocket science? Sometimes it feels that way. Someone give me a formula and I’ll see what I can do.