Have you ever driven California’s spectacular Pacific Coast Highway? If so, you’re familiar with its many hairpin turns.

In the day, you can see what’s ahead and adapt accordingly. Unfortunately, I didn’t get there during the day, I got there at dusk.

After the sun went down, it got really dark. No moon, no street lights, no nothing. I had no idea what was coming next.

I kept trying to reassure myself with, “I can do this. Three hours from now, I’ll be safe and sound in my hotel room.”

Suddenly, a truck zoomed up behind me and flashed its brights. I did what I’d been taught to do growing up in a small mountain valley. I pulled over to let the driver go ahead.

The problem? The pull-out was gravel and shorter than anticipated.

I started sliding and the harder I braked, the more I slid. I finally came to a stop a few feet from the cliff’s edge.

I sat there and shook. The truck was long gone. It was just me, the deserted road, (and I know this sounds dramatic but it’s true), a realization that my lifelong default of putting other people first had just about cost me my life.

Sound familiar? Is your default, “No, go ahead. You go first.”

If you’re a leader, parent or caregiver, this may have become your norm. You may feel it’s your responsibility to put others first.

The question is, to what degree? At what cost?