Could Taking Risks Actually Make Us Less Anxious?

There are many ways to cope with anxiety. I chose the succeed and achieve route. By the time I was 24, I had graduated Summa Cum Laude from a great college, had a managing role at a marketing agency downtown, and lived in a skylit apartment with wood floors, a clawfoot tub, and skyline views. I had a social circle, a boyfriend, a workout routine, and an impressive stack of books by my bedside. I also spent entire days in bed, debilitated by anxiety and avoiding phone calls from people who cared about me. Occasionally, I would arrive at work only to turn around and leave again, calling out “sick.” 

Like many things in life, the answer to my anxiety was nuanced and even, on the face of it, contradictory. On the one hand, I needed to show myself the safety I had never known. Somatic therapy, breathwork classes, neurofeedback, and eventually medication were all critical for that. But even at my shakiest, there was a spark of something that balked at the stability I had created for myself. Maybe it was the younger part of me who boldly proclaimed that I would never, ever work a desk job. Maybe it was the vague sinking sensation I felt when I bought all-new furniture for my home, insisting that I’d never move. Whatever it was, it was persistent, and I avoided it for years. Why wouldn’t I, when my anxiety was, by definition, a fear of the unknown?

“Like many things in life, the answer to my anxiety was nuanced and even, on the face of it, contradictory.”

I’m 31 now, and much better friends with my anxious tendencies. They still hang around, but they don’t run the show as frequently. Part of that I attribute to the therapeutic tools that helped ground me. Those were an essential foundation that I couldn’t have skipped. But I also began to feel more stable when I started making riskier choices. 

Of course, context is everything. “Risky,” for me, wasn’t free soloing a mountain or moving into a van and traveling the country. In my case, it looked like moving to a city just 45 minutes from my hometown. Then, moving back to start a new career in my 30s, with no real experience and no clear-cut path to follow. My choices may barely register on the “subversive” scale for most people, but they still deviate from what I expected for myself. I’m not married and I plan to never have children. My career supports my values significantly more than my bank account. These are small armors in a “normal, safe” life that I’m systematically removing. 

In place of those outward signifiers of stability, I’m developing an internal sense of equilibrium. I can’t predict what’s coming next as clearly as I could before, but my confidence in my ability to navigate it is stronger. It’s a bit of a morose allegory, but it reminds me of when — after years of health anxiety — I had my first real health scare. I was surprised by the relative calm and focus that came over me as I scheduled biopsies and awaited test results. Living in the reality of the thing, instead of fearing the idea of it, fortified me in some ways. 

Curious about this seemingly antithetical sensation — taking risks to feel safer — I reached out to two trusted therapists in my network: Marisa Ronquillo, LMFT of Insightful Roots Therapy, and Erica Schwartzberg, LMSW of Downtown Somatic Therapy to get their thoughts. 

The first thing I wanted to understand was what safety felt like in comparison to a protective stuckness. The kind that kept me feeling on edge in my twenties, despite making the “right” choices. 

Ronquillo explained that safety actually requires two things: the absence of threat (check!), but also the presence of choice. As she puts it, “true safety allows movement.” When nothing is wrong, but you still feel restless, it can be a sign that you’ve got a white-knuckled grip on control, at the expense of growth or ease. “True safety supports…curiosity,” adds Schwartzberg. “It has room for creativity, contact with life, and a felt sense of support. Protective stagnation often has a more rigid quality…it’s often constrained, numb, or holding underlying tension.”

“Ronquillo explained that safety actually requires two things: the absence of threat (check!), but also the presence of choice.”

When we avoid the unknown, we feed that tension because we never update our expectations, explains Ronquillo. We never learn that risks don’t have to come with unmanageable consequences. Instead, we reinforce the notion that life is dangerous and we need to hide from it. Our inherent desire for growth doesn’t disappear; it just manifests as unease.

A nervous system perspective 

Much of my own anxiety healing has involved bringing my nervous system into the conversation. For years, I only paid attention to my conscious mind, which was full of unyielding, black-and-white ideas. I never wondered about the root system of sensation in my body that was having an entirely different experience. Namely: panic. 

“Much of my own anxiety healing has involved bringing my nervous system into the conversation.”

But curiosity, according to Schwartzberg, is one of the most powerful indications of a regulated nervous system. It means there’s space to explore, and we’re not stuck in survival mode. “Curiosity creates just enough distance from fear to allow exploration without overwhelm,” adds Ronquillo. Not only does being open to uncertainty act as an indicator of a flexible nervous system, the therapists tell me, but it can also help to soothe a frazzled one. When we choose to take a risk, we may feel activated, but we also feel a sense of agency. We feel connected to the movement we are creating internally, rather than feeling victim to it. 

The modern mental health narrative

Some of my nervous system education came through therapy. A lot of it came through social media. Polyvagal Theory exploded in the zeitgeist when COVID hit, and everyone was desperate for a sense of safety. Many of us found vital healing by learning to create that for ourselves. But I wonder if it’s given us an incomplete picture of what mental wellness looks like. 

“Polyvagal Theory exploded in the zeitgeist when COVID hit, and everyone was desperate for a sense of safety.”

As Ronquillo puts it, modern wellness often equates nervous system health with being constantly calm, rested, and regulated. But “humans are wired for movement, challenge, meaning, and connection,” she says. When we make comfort our ultimate God, we’re shirking our essential need for excitement and novelty. The key is to move through it with agency — in other words, by choosing to take healthy risks — instead of throwing ourselves into a reenactment of previous trauma. 

Listening to our bodies

To do this, we need to get in touch with our bodies and their sensations. “Life-giving risk may feel activating but also enlivening with some spark of possibility,” says Schwartzberg. Trauma, on the other hand, feels familiar and compressive. Ronquillo adds that trauma reads compulsive and urgent, while expansive risk-taking feels more consciously-paced, with room for pausing and reflection. 

“Trauma reads compulsive and urgent, while expansive risk-taking feels more consciously-paced, with room for pausing and reflection.”

These can be nuanced feelings that are hard to read if you’ve spent a lifetime in your head, and I highly encourage working with a professional to help you decode them. I can tell you from experience that it gets easier with guidance and time. A professional can also help you identify when you’re ready to take those initial stretches into healthy experimentation. Ronquillo and Schwartzberg know their clients are there when they can soothe themselves after being activated and feel curious, instead of only fearful, about potential outcomes. Both reassure me that fear doesn’t have to be absent to take risks. It just needs to be paired with some self-assuredness. 

Some gentle ways to come alive

If you’re craving some healthy risk-taking, here are some smaller, thoughtful ways to try it this week: 

Say what you really think — instead of what you “should” say — in conversation. Of course, you can still say whatever it is with kindness and consideration! Ask for something that you want.  Share something you created and don’t think is perfect.  Let yourself change your mind about something.  Choose what feels good instead of what’s reasonable. 

Unfamiliar does not mean dangerous. It can actually mean more well-being. So let me know in the comments: What risk will you take today? 

Nicole Ahlering is an animal adoption counselor at her local humane society. She’s also a writer. (So basically, everything she wanted to be when she grew up!) When she’s not working, she’s hanging out with her kitties and her partner, drinking iced espresso, or reading something non-fiction.

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