For the past few months, I’ve been trying to reflect on the dynamic nature of risk appetite, and how personally my tolerance for risk has varied at different points in my life.
When I had nothing, taking risks felt natural—necessary, even. Risk was survival, not strategy.
As my wealth grew, I hit a number that felt secure, dependable—a safety net against the unforeseen. Suddenly, I was playing defense, not offense. I couldn’t risk what I needed to have what I merely wanted.
So, I plateaued. I stayed close to that number, guarded it, settled into its comfort. This feeling of fear probably stagnated me for a couple of years. This is rather strange in hindsight: a paradoxical feeling of comfort and fear. An accomplishment and a limitation.
Once I crossed that threshold, stepping past the line that had kept me cautious, I found room to experiment again—a new inclination for risk began to emerge, fueled by what felt like “surplus.” Here, risk took on a different meaning, moving away from survival and toward exploration.
Maybe this is how it goes: risk is a dynamic game. At different stages, it holds a different shape, pulling us between need and want, pushing us from survival to strategy. It’s not just about the money; it’s about where you are with it. It’s about your personal circumstances and where you are in life.