How to Take More Risks by Losing Attachment to Outcomes

Embrace the process and release the results

We’ve all been there.

Maybe it was the job you wanted but didn’t feel qualified for. So you never applied. Or the 5K you thought about running but feared embarrassment if you needed to walk. So you never signed up. Perhaps there’s that person you’ve wanted to spend more time with but feared rejection. So you never asked. Maybe you’re saddled with the heavy burden of needing to tell something important to a family member, but it never seems to be the right time. So you’ve avoided the conversation for days, months, years, or even decades.

I’m sure you can fill in your own blank here. As I said, we’ve all been there.

Some might think of these situations as cases of analysis paralysis. Analysis paralysis, sometimes also known as decision fatigue, often comes when we have many viable options. Analysis paralysis results in feelings of overwhelm. We feel stuck, uncertain about which of many possible roads to go down.

The scenarios presented here are different. We don’t feel overwhelmed by our choices. We aren’t wringing our hands over what restaurant will impress that person. Or what we should talk about during the job interview.

We fear the possible outcome of what might happen if we decide to follow through with our desired behavior.

We perceive risk involved in our desired behavior and will not act without guarantee of a positive outcome.

Why we attach to outcomes

Our brains love certainty. If we do A, then B will happen. If we do not have certainty, as we often do not, our brains will happily fill in the blanks.

Anxiety is feelings of nervousness or worries about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome. Note that within the context of this article when I refer to anxiety, I am not speaking to Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Panic Disorder (PD) or other clinically severe forms of anxiety. If you struggle with GAD, PD, or other forms of severe anxiety, please seek the help of a qualified mental health professional.

For those of us who lean a bit more to the anxious side, however, these blanks (unknown outcomes) usually get filled in with anything from a mildly undesirable consequence to our worst possible fears coming true.

Thanks a lot, brain. What a jerk.

We attach to specific outcomes as a way to manage our anxiety. In the short term, we feel better and less anxious. “I will only do A if I know that B will happen.”

The problem is that outcomes are generally out of our control. We can gain confidence in a specific outcome. If I train for a 5K, I will likely feel more confident about my ability to complete it. Objectively, my chances of a successful outcome may be increased.

But who knows? I could trip over my shoelaces in the first mile, roll my ankle, and not be able to finish. We feel like we are in complete control over the outcome here, but we are not.

No risk, no reward

“If you dare nothing, then when the day is over, nothing is all you will have gained.”

― Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

Risk is not only reserved for jumping out of airplanes. Or for Steve-O from Jackass getting raw meat torn out of his underwear by alligators.

Risk simply means a situation that exposes us to potential harm, danger, or loss. Air travel is risky. Driving a car is risky. Being in a relationship with others is risky. Some might say that just living life is risky.

Risk is everywhere. We make conscious and unconscious decisions about what types of risk we will tolerate every single day.

Moderate risk-taking can have several benefits. These benefits can include:

Unexpected personal or professional opportunities.

Desensitization to fear of failure.

Building confidence, especially around new situations.

Learning new things and gaining new skills.

Meeting new people and developing new relationships.

Personal and professional growth and development.

I often tell my students that any type of growth is typically both challenging and involves some level of risk. Let’s use the old example of planting a seed. We could put that seed in the ground and push it way down. It will be safe and protected from rain, wind, and the occasional raccoon. Some risk, perhaps, but very little if I bury it really deep.

Safe? Likely. But will it grow? Likely not.

Letting go of outcomes

If we know our anxious brain’s desire for certainty is getting in the way (jerk), how do we go about losing our attachment to outcomes?

It is not easy. But it is simple.

Focus on the process of the behavior itself, not on the desired outcome.

That sounds great, but what does it mean? Let’s use our examples from the very first paragraph.

If we focus on the process, we will show up to our 5K and start running. We may or may not finish as that is out of our control. And that is okay. Showing up and getting started was our goal.

If we focus on the process, we apply for that dream job. We may or may not get the job as that is out of our control. And that is okay. Simply applying for the job was our goal.

If we focus on the process, we ask that person if they will have dinner with us. They may or may not say yes as that is out of our control. And that is okay. Just taking the step and asking was our goal.

You get the idea.

“And that is okay” means we will be able to cope with results out of our control. We trust we will be able to move on. We will have feelings. We should have feelings! We may be disappointed or frustrated or sad if we walk in our 5K, don’t get that dream job, or the person turns us down. We are not robots.

But telling our anxious brain to stick it involves respecting and acknowledging our success in following through with the process of our desired behavior.

I am successful if I follow through with A, as B is not under my control.

A final word on risk-taking

In his now internet-famous 2005 commencement speech at Kenyon College, David Foster Wallace included the following parable:

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually, one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

Wallace uses this story to argue against falling into an unconscious way of living. It is a cautionary tale of how easy it is to unconsciously conform to the rat race. It’s about building awareness that parts of “real life” will be hidden away and go unseen without reminding ourselves, “This is water.”

Risk is everywhere. It’s a part of that water we swim through every day. And I would say most of you have done as good a job as any in negotiating the everyday risks that come with your daily routines.

Let go of that of which you have no control. Recognize that few things in life have certain outcomes. Recognize measured risk-taking as a part of personal and professional growth and development. Don’t be the seed stuck so far down in the dirt that it can’t strive for the light of day.

Stretch yourself to do that thing that feels risky. That makes you feel nervous. That has your anxiously uncertain brain telling you all sorts of horrors. Commit to the process and let the rest go.

And I promise. No jumping out of airplanes or feeding raw chicken to alligators out of your underpants is required.

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