There's no such thing as security
About a week ago I woke up feeling very worried, on the verge of spiraling about a whole bunch of things I can’t control, but badly want to. I was scheduled to go for a run so I dragged myself out of bed to get dressed, and put on a podcast while I did some warm up stretches. The writer Ada Calhoun was being interviewed on Death, Sex & Money, and she said something that stopped me mid-downward dog:
There is no such thing as security.
Here’s a longer excerpt:
Well, so my parents always said that you have to make choices between freedom and security at every turn, and you should always pick freedom. And I came to really believe that that is true because there is no such thing as security. And I think that was part of the pandemic, was realizing, oh, you could go do all the things you’re supposed to do and take the safe job as opposed to the dangerous job, and you wind up not necessarily better off. So I think, and in fact, in my own life, I’ve found that over and over again, to take chances and risks always wound up being, in the long run, financially much better for me.
Her words hit me in that moment because I was worried and desperately craving security. To be reminded that much of what we desire as a form of security is an illusion, anyway, was—perhaps paradoxically—extremely comforting.
It’s easy to get wrapped up in wondering whether you made the “right” choice in terms of protecting your security: did I choose the right major in college, take the right job, move to the right place, partner up with the right person, and so on. But even with those things, which are all at least somewhat under our control, there are no guarantees. Jobs come and go, recessions happen, marriages end, etc.
And of course there are a hundred or a thousand things totally outside our control that will upend any notion of security in a heartbeat: a death, an illness, a natural disaster, a nightmarish election result, a market crash, a fall down the steps, your roof caving in… Whether you do everything “right,” choose the most conservative and stable path, you’re still as vulnerable as everyone else to seeing your life turned upside down, one way or another.
That doesn’t mean I think we’re wrong to seek security; I think we all want and need it, in some measure, in some balance with freedom and excitement, and at differing degrees throughout our lives. I do think we’re wrong to put so much faith in the idea of security that we never allow ourselves to choose freedom.
After all, we live within an economic system, not to mention many other systems of oppression, that doesn’t want—and literally can’t allow—all of us to succeed or achieve stability. It’s also quite happy to keep most of us so scared about our own safety (in all its forms) that we don’t challenge the status quo and we remain beholden to those more powerful (e.g., our bosses, our leaders, our higher-earning spouses) to give us (the illusion of) security.
So what does choosing freedom look like? I don’t think Ada Calhoun was suggesting that everyone should quit their jobs or spend their savings on a sailboat, but given that she was talking about having left a long marriage and being a writer (not the most stable of professions), I think she’s reminding us that choosing security at the expense of happiness, self-fulfillment, or freedom is not necessarily the “right” choice, at all times.
Freedom can feel riskier, but it’s worth remembering that staying in a miserable job or a lousy relationship or a town you hate is also a risk, one that has real costs. When we have a big decision to make, one that asks us to choose between having the “bigger” (but maybe also scarier) life and staying where we are, we can easily list all the costs of making a change. But it’s also useful to make a list of the costs of staying put: your health, happiness, dreams, satisfaction, the meaningfulness of life and more. Remember: nothing is guaranteed and there might not be a “later” in which to pursue the things you really want.
What I’m reading: Murder at King’s Crossing. I believe this is #8 in the Wrexford and Sloane mystery series by Andrea Penrose. While the themes are getting quite repetitive after 8 books, Penrose does construct good mysteries that keep me guessing.
What I’m watching: I’m about the start the new British miniseries Adolescence.