I was playing defense.

Early in my career, someone offered me the world.

Not in those words. But that’s what it was.

It was a procurement regional lead role based in Dubai with oversight for several countries in the Middle East. This was on my bucket list. I had expressed interest in working internationally. It was on my leadership plan. This was the international role.

I got pretty far. Made the slate. Had interviews with the in-country lead and a few people internally. I was in it.

And then the feedback started coming in.

Not discouragement. Nobody told me not to take it. It was framed as concern. As caution. Making sure I understood what I was getting into. Was this the right environment for a woman? For a Black woman? Was this really the best fit for my career? Would I be set up for success?

They weren’t wrong to raise it. The questions were real.

But I didn’t push through them. I didn’t ask more questions, do more research, or talk to people who had actually been there. I just let the concern land. And then I called the hiring team and pulled my name out of the hat.

I told them it wasn’t the right fit. That the timing was off.

I chickened out.

I still think about it. Because I never did get to work internationally while I was in corporate. I traveled for work across Europe and Asia. But traveling for work is like sampling. You do the tourist things. You’re in and out. You don’t get the life.

Being an expat is different. You become immersed. You become something close to a local. You learn the city the way the city actually is, not the way it looks from a hotel window or a conference room.

I know what that feels like because I studied abroad in Paris for seven months during college. That experience never left me. One of my fondest memories was going to the farmers market. There was a cheese lady who knew my favorites. A flower guy who saved the ones he thought I’d like. You don’t build that on a work trip. You can’t. The work trip ends before the cheese lady learns your name.

That’s what I turned down. Not just the role. That version of life.

Years later, on a work trip to London, I stayed over the weekend. I had just watched Paddington — the movie — and wanted to stay at the hotel connected to Paddington Station. So I did.

That weekend I took the tube. Went to local markets. Visited iconic watering holes. I experienced the city the way I had always imagined I would if I actually lived there. Just for two days. Just enough to feel it.

And I felt it.

That weekend was a glimpse of the version of myself I didn’t get to find out about. The one who took the role. The one who got on the plane. The one who got immersed in a new city.

She still comes to mind sometimes.

I didn’t turn down the role because the concerns were valid enough to stop me.

I turned it down because they gave me cover.

When we operate from a mindset of not losing, we play it safe. We avoid the risk. We optimize for the outcome where nothing goes visibly wrong.

I was playing not to lose.

The concerns gave me somewhere to put it. A reason that sounded responsible. A reason I could say out loud.

But the real reason was simpler and harder to admit. I didn’t know if I could do it. And I didn’t want to find out in a place that far from home, that far outside everything familiar, with that much visibility on the outcome.

So I called the hiring team. Pulled my name out of the hat. Told them the timing was off.

And the thing about playing not to lose is that it feels responsible. It looks like discernment. From the outside, nobody can tell the difference between a strategic pass and a fear-based one. You can’t always tell from the inside either.

That’s what makes it so easy to keep doing.

I’ve watched it happen across 25 years of working with people. The woman who was more than ready for the stretch role and found three reasons not to raise her hand. The leader who stayed in the safe lane for a decade and called it being strategic. The person who had the idea and the skills but waited for more certainty.

All of them were working hard. All of them were playing defense.

Playing not to lose and playing to win can look identical. Same preparation. Same due diligence. Same careful consideration. The difference is what’s driving it. Fear of losing or hunger to win. And only you know which one is running the show.

I’ve forgiven myself for the Middle East. It took time, but I got there.

Not because I’ve convinced myself it didn’t matter. It did. I never got the expat experience I wanted.
But at some point you have to be present in the life you have instead of grieving the life you didn’t choose. Because if you don’t, you miss the joys of now. And now has been pretty awesome.

The cheese lady I never met in Doha. I found her somewhere else. In a different form. In the life I actually built.

What I want you to sit with is not the regret. It’s the pattern. Because the Middle East was one decision. But playing not to lose is a posture. And a posture held long enough becomes a career.

Until next Tuesday.
Ceaneh