Navigating the Paralysis of Starting: Lessons from Risk, Decision-Making, and Culture

I find it interesting how often starting is the hardest part. I started this Substack over a year ago, and still, today, when I sit down, I often find the hardest part is writing the first sentence. I have found this to be true in many areas of my life; back in 2021, when I first started Jujitsu classes, the most intimidating part was the first step. I wondered if this was something I could do, or I’d think how goofy I looked or even felt doing what I was doing. I’ve recently found myself returning to the idea of paralysis by analysis. People say, “Don’t overthink it,” and I can’t help but wonder how. I think it is interesting as I’ve recently been thinking of taking up my Jusitsu classes again as they were something I really did learn to enjoy. Yet, as I revisit this thought, I find myself pausing. I find myself hesitating, and I can’t really explain why. I find the excuses not to do it come easy, and despite knowing they are excuses, I find them just as compelling; I find they still arrest me from taking action.

This week was my brother Peter’s birthday. I’ve often admired him for his ability to take action. I remember a particular scene from when we were little. We were likely 9 and 10 years old and would go swimming at the local creek with the neighbor boys. This was back in our Amish days, so we often took our bikes to the local creek and went swimming together. At this particular location, there was a short cliff roughly 15 to 20 feet high, so we would take a running start and jump off the edge of the cliff into the water below. My brother fearlessly would run and make the jump, having little regard for the risk. I, on the other hand, would find myself hesitating at the cliff edge, weighing the risks, knowing that if we landed in the wrong spot in the water, we would hit the bottom of the creek and could get severely hurt. Eventually, I, too, did jump off into the water below. But I found that ability to make the jump very hard because I knew the risks; I knew that if someone got hurt, it would ultimately be my fault because I had known better. I have found this has been the case for me all my life. I don’t know if this results from being the oldest or a mental predisposition to be more risk-averse. Whatever the case, I often found myself wishing I could be more like my brother and often trying to be more like him, someone who could make a decision without the paralysis of risk assessment.

I have seen my brother walk into a situation and be capable of making a decision in seconds. This ability to make a choice and run with it without evaluating the full potential fallout is something I still admire in him today. It is a strength he possesses, and though it too may have its downsides when taken to extremes, it is a characteristic I have often struggled to emulate. I find it nearly impossible to make a decision without first evaluating every possible detail and considering the possible fallout of every scenario. This evaluation has often delayed me from making a decision and, in some cases, has kept me from it entirely. In some cases, this has been to my benefit, yet in others, it has left me wondering, “What if I had?” It’s an interesting conundrum. I’ll never know what I’ve missed in both directions. In the scene at the creek, I’m glad I followed my brother off the cliff edge despite the risks involved; it has been a memory I’ve often returned to with fondness. It reminds me that sometimes we have to make the jump and just hope for the best. Few great adventures in life allow us to know every potential risk.

Last year, I found myself in a place of paralysis. I had been with my employer for over 10 years, and I didn’t feel like there was anything left for me to do with this company. But it was also a place where I was comfortable because I knew everything I was doing, and there was nothing I couldn’t do with them. But there was an ache in me to do something more, so when a new employment opportunity came to me, I found myself racked with fear. I didn’t know if this was a good decision, but I knew that I also didn’t like the stagnation within my existing role. So, with great trepidation, I made the jump, and I took the new opportunity! I can look back today and praise God that I did. Through this decision, I was able to begin to grow again and find new challenges that forced me to continue to grow and learn.

I find this risk aversion to be a common online sentiment. Today, a generation of young people is constantly bombarded with stories of risks that have gone wrong, so they become trained to always play it safe in hopes that nothing goes wrong. I also can’t help but wonder if much of this risk aversion comes from the lack of Fathers in children's lives. Allow me to explain the thought; according to fatherhood.org, approximately 1 in 4 children grow up in a home without their biological, step, or adoptive father in the home. Dr Jordan B Peterson often talks about how fathers nurture their children differently than mom does. Fathers are known for playing more roughly with their children, and this is often called “rough and tumble play.” Dr Peterson makes the argument that this controlled environment of risk is essential to the healthy development of the child. Children learn to take risks and jump off the couch toward Dad, who catches them. Through this, the child learns to take calculated risks. These risks often frighten mom as she watches her infant through into the air to be safely caught by dad. This is not to say that moms can not teach this, but they do not seem to nurture it in this way naturally.

So, I can’t help but wonder if the downstream effects of missing fathers are a generation of children who have never been taught how to take risks. Their environment was predominantly effeminate, and so without the masculine counterpart, these children grow up to be hyper-safety conscientious. The fact is, despite the narratives of the news, we live in a world that is in many ways far safer than previous generations. But is this a good thing? Is it healthy to live in a hyper-sanitized environment? Though we may not like it, there is no escaping life's challenges. No amount of college “safe spaces” will protect them from the vicissitudes of life. In reality, these safe spaces are training a generation that all the world should cater to them. If the standard is too high for them, then we should lower it. If the teacher or boss says or does something that makes them uncomfortable, they will go cry to HR, demanding termination. Though this may sound extreme, these are the realities of today’s work environments.

There is a balance of masculine and feminine that must exist in all areas of life; unfortunately, our current cultural moment, through feminism, has deemed all things masculine as “toxic.” This has resulted in the abolition of “standardized testing.” It has resulted in the literal lowering of Special Operations training standards so that they can be more “inclusive.” We want so desperately to ensure no one feels excluded that we now simply allow everyone. This is how mentally deranged men end up in women's restrooms. We have created an environment of “toxic compassion.” We have created a culture of mediocrity rather than excellence. We abolish these standards at our own peril. Recent news stories of an increasing number of safety concerns with some aircraft are the direct result of a lowering in standards. I don’t care how excluded someone feels when they fail their medical exams to become a surgeon; I do not want a doctor who passed his or her classes only because we lowered the bar of entry to avoid making them feel excluded.

I truly believe many of the struggles of today’s young people is that they never had a father who told them to “suck it up.” They never had someone who gave them a healthy environment within which they could take risks and face challenges that they could overcome. Instead, they were raised overprotected and overly nurtured by the feminine instinct. We, as ever, lean into the extremes rather than the balance of both masculine and feminine. My intention here is not to make a villain of feminity, as it is truly a beautiful thing, but there is a perversion of it that exists in today’s culture. It is the instinct to protect to the point of infantilizing. It is the desire to make everyone feel included to the extreme that there must naturally be an abolition of expectations and standards to make room for all.

So, in my closing thoughts, I return to the ever-present reality that our current culture has perverted God's good, perfect design. By this perversion, we make a mess of our lives, the lives of our offspring, and the generations that will follow. But here, we also have an opportunity to take responsibility for our lives. I heard a quote once say something like this.

“All want to change the world, but none want to change themselves.”

God created the world with an order that often offends. The Western world has become increasingly hostile to God’s designed order. God created roles for men and women. And as we abandon them, we see the fallout; we see children who suffer and go out into the world ill-prepared to handle it.