I used to think being hyper-vigilant made me smart.

My eyes were finely tuned radar systems, scanning endlessly for danger.

Every casual comment held hidden meanings. Every gentle criticism meant I wasn’t good enough.

Red flags? I can spot them from miles away. I am a master detective of doom. I collect evidence for why things would go wrong before they even had a chance to go right.

But green flags? Those are much harder. When someone is consistently kind, my brain would whisper: “What’s their angle?”

When opportunities arise, I’d think: “Where’s the catch?”

When good things happen, I brace for the other shoe to drop.

I’m slowly learning that while red flags protect us, green flags invite us to live.

They’re the tiny lights guiding us toward trust, connection, and joy.

They’re in the friend who remembers how you like your coffee.

The colleague who celebrates your wins.

The stranger who holds the door with a genuine smile.

When I catch myself building a case for why something will go wrong, I stop and ask: “But what if it goes right?” When I spot a red flag, I also look for green ones nearby. They’re often there, waving quietly, waiting to be noticed.

It’s not about ignoring warning signs – some red flags are real and important. It’s about expanding our vision to include the good that’s equally real. It’s about understanding that being protective of ourselves doesn’t mean we have to live behind walls.

Some people are trustworthy. Some opportunities are genuine. Some good things last.

Maybe you’re like me, with a PhD in worst-case scenarios.

That’s okay.

We can learn to expand our color palette together, adding shades of hope to our careful caution.