I grew up with the kind of energy that couldn’t sit still, the kind that questioned every rule and pushed every boundary. Looking back now, as a therapist who spends a lot of time teaching adolescents how to regulate their emotions and think through their decisions, I often find myself laughing (and cringing) at the irony. Because if you had told teenage me I’d grow up to be the one guiding teens through their wild years, I would have rolled my eyes and gone right back to whatever reckless plan I was hatching that week.

I wasn’t the “play it safe” type. I was the kid who didn’t see obstacles—only challenges to conquer. And while that risk-taking spirit taught me resilience and gave me some unforgettable stories, it also brought more than a few hard lessons.

The Thrill of Testing Limits

There’s a rush that comes with being the one who dares to do what others won’t. It’s the thrill of standing on the edge, looking out at the unknown, and saying, “Why not?” For me, it wasn’t just about rebellion (though there was plenty of that); it was about proving I could. To myself, to others—it didn’t matter. If someone said something was impossible or off-limits, that was my green light to try.

But it wasn’t always harmless curiosity. I often found myself caught up in delinquent behaviors, the kind that started as small acts of rebellion and quickly escalated into bigger risks. Whether it was skipping school, sneaking out, or crossing lines I knew I shouldn’t, I thrived on the adrenaline of getting away with it. I told myself it was harmless fun, but deep down, I knew I was searching for something—freedom, identity, maybe even control.

The Crash That Comes With Risk

Risk-taking doesn’t come without consequences. There were moments when my decisions led to real danger, to hurting people I cared about, and to sitting with my own shame. Those moments, though painful, taught me what no one else could: the importance of accountability and the weight of my choices.

One particular memory sticks with me—the time I lied to cover up something I knew was wrong, only to find myself facing the fallout of my own actions. I remember the pit in my stomach when I realized my choices had hurt someone I cared about. That moment forced me to reckon with the fact that my risks weren’t just mine to bear. They had a way of spilling into the lives of others.

Finding the Balance

It took years for me to channel that risk-taking energy into something healthier. When you’re wired to push boundaries, you don’t stop being that way—you just learn how to wield it differently.

These days, I pour that energy into things that matter: starting a business, speaking up when it’s uncomfortable, trying something new in my work or personal life even when there’s no guarantee it’ll succeed. The lessons I learned as a teenager didn’t strip away my willingness to take risks; they refined it.

Why It Matters Now

As a therapist, I often sit across from teenagers who remind me of my younger self—bold, daring, and sometimes reckless. I recognize the spark in their eyes, the fire to live fully, and the resistance to anyone telling them to slow down. And while I’d love to shield them from the harder lessons, I know that part of growing up is stumbling through those moments and figuring it out for yourself.

What I can do is hold space for them. I can help them see that they’re not bad kids for taking risks—they’re just kids figuring out who they are. I can teach them how to weigh their choices, how to channel that drive into something meaningful, and how to pick themselves back up when things don’t go as planned.

Sometimes, I share bits and pieces of my own journey—not in a way that centers me, but in a way that says, “You’re not alone. I’ve been there. And you’ll make it through.”

The Beauty of Risk

If I could go back and talk to my teenage self, I wouldn’t tell her to stop taking risks. I wouldn’t tell her to be more careful or to play it safe. Instead, I’d tell her to listen to that little voice inside that questions why things are the way they are. I’d tell her to take risks with purpose, to consider the people she cares about, and to remember that not every battle is worth the fight.

Because being a risk-taker isn’t a flaw—it’s a gift. It’s what drives us to grow, to dream, to create. The key is learning how to balance that gift with wisdom and compassion, for ourselves and for others.

So, to all the risk-takers out there: keep going. Keep pushing boundaries. But don’t forget to pause, reflect, and ask yourself if the risk is worth the cost. And if it isn’t? Trust me, there’s always another challenge waiting around the corner.

Laura