How I learned to stop playing it safe

At my first physiotherapy session on Friday, the therapist started with an oil massage of the scar tissue. Now healed, my wrist shows a thin, five-centimeter line of swollen, hardened skin. I had only dared to touch it gently, but he was working the scarred area firmly while we talked.

It was not uncomfortable. It was actually doing something. Halfway through, I started feeling little sparks in my pinky and ring finger, as if nerves underneath were waking up. He told me the massage was useful, but the real work would come from the exercises. The skin and tissue need to soften to stop restricting movement. But movement itself is what brings the wrist back.

He had me lift my hand up and down, rotate it, tilt it left and right, all while keeping my forearm steady. Watching the difference between my left hand and right hand was a bit of a shock, honestly. Even more interesting, he could move my right hand further than I could myself. I was eager to regain strength and control. Work to be done clearly.

The recovery paradox

After the accident, cast, operation, and hospitalization, my instinct was to protect. Don’t bump it, don’t force anything, take it easy. Healing needs stillness; the body works to reconstruct. That was correct for that phase.

But now, the wound is closed, and my bone is held together by a plate with eight screws. What my wrist needs now is something different: a challenge. It needs to be stretched and put to the test. The instinct that kept me safe for five weeks is now the very thing holding me back.

Homework

I do my stretches with a timer because if I just count in my head, I’ll drift off and probably stop too soon. The timer keeps me honest, no cheating.

I push my wrist just to the point where I feel that stretch and resistance, right at the edge of comfort, but not into pain. That’s where the magic happens. Of course, one night I got a little too enthusiastic and needed some paracetamol, so I learned to dial it back a notch.

I remind myself not to stay in the comfortable middle. If I only move my wrist where it feels easy, nothing changes. The exercise just becomes going through the motions, and my mobility stays stuck. Growth happens at the edge.

Patterns

It got me thinking: how often does this pattern show up in other parts of life?

Take parenting, for example. When kids are little, we read the risks for them and do our best to keep them safe. But as they grow, we have to let go a bit so they can learn to read risks themselves. The instinct that protects at age three can really hold them back at thirteen.

It’s the same story in our careers. You start a new job, learn the ropes, and before you know it, you’re competent, and things start to feel familiar. The same patterns, the same problems, the same conversations. That’s the moment to ask yourself: do I want to keep getting the same results, or is it time to take on a bigger challenge, ask for that tougher assignment, or maybe even move on? Comfort isn’t failure, but if we never question it, it can quietly turn into a cage.

Teams are no different. Trust is the foundation, but healthy conflict is what helps teams grow. Most teams are great at building trust, but few are willing to risk it for those tough conversations. Avoiding conflict feels safe, but handling it well brings real growth. Teams that stay too comfortable end up standing still.

Now what?

It’s the same pattern, every single time. What helped you in one phase can end up holding you back in the next. The trick is to notice when things are shifting. Stop using yesterday’s strategy for today’s challenge. Find your new edge and stay there until you feel the change. So, where in your life are you still holding on to old strategies that might be keeping you from growing? Maybe it’s time to let go and see what happens. I know I’m doing my stretches.