I’m A Quitter

I’m a quitter. 

I haven’t always been a quitter. This is a recent development. Quitting is not a thing I have historically done. Every personality test I’ve ever taken has labeled me with whichever result corresponds to words like “driven,” “leader,” “achiever,” and “goal-oriented.” Words like “competitive” and “ambitious” get tossed in there, too. 

I like to be first, best, and right. 

The fastest way to my heart might just be a gold star. Recognizing my achievements goes a long way with me, and I like to win. I have a vivid memory of the “tooth chart” in first grade. Each time one of my classmates lost a tooth, they got to add a star next to their name on a chart by the door. The person who lost the most teeth at the end of the year won a prize (I realize how strange this is now). Five and six year olds lose teeth left and right, so it didn’t take long for the chart to start to fill with stars. 

I had no stars. 

My teeth were firmly in my head. 

And so were Rex’s. 

It was down to Rex and I as to who would be the last person with all their baby teeth and I was determined to lose a tooth before him. 

And I did. 

To this day, I think I loosened and then lost that tooth through sheer force of will. 

I also came from behind and won the prize. By the end of first grade, I had lost the most teeth. I couldn’t tell you what the prize was, just that I won it. I was no quitter, after all. 

And that’s how I went through my childhood, college, my first jobs as a young professional – by white knuckling my path through the mess and muck. Even if I was miserable, even if I went home and cried after work each night, even if I just didn’t want to, I did whatever I needed to do. Whatever I was supposed to do. 

Because I wasn’t a quitter. 

I saw quitting as a sign of weakness. People who quit only quit because they couldn’t hack it, whatever “it” was. If I kept pushing through, kept holding on, it would work out and I would get my reward – my gold star. Except those gold stars were things like raises and promotions and admiration and my name on plaques at the gym for having the most PRs in a calendar year. 

Now, I’m a quitter. 

I can’t tell you when it happened or what inspired it, but somewhere along the way, I became a quitter. I learned the value of letting go of what wasn’t serving me. 

I quit owning a barre studio when the construction issues became overwhelming and I knew, no matter how badly I wanted it, that it wasn’t worth the stress or the money.

I quit Los Angeles when I realized it was making me miserable.

I quit film school when I realized it was sucking the life out of me. 

I quit trying to salvage a longtime friendship when I realized she wasn’t going to reciprocate the friendship any longer. 

I quit CrossFit when it was no longer a fun way to move my body despite how much I liked the coaching staff and the community. 

We tend to look down on quitting. We see it as giving up, throwing in the towel, stopping just short of the finish line. And in some cases maybe that is quitting – tapping out just before the breakthrough. But there is a difference between quitting on something you believe in or something you want when it feels like it’s too hard or might not workout and quitting on something that no longer serves you, brings you joy, or adds value to your life. Maybe it’s a relationship that has run its course. It’s comfortable and easy, but it’s just not working anymore. Maybe it’s the job you wanted so bad you could taste it, only to get it and find it sucks your soul. Maybe it’s a city that has never felt like home no matter how glamorous it is. 

It’s okay to be a quitter. In fact, being a quitter is downright freeing. We spend so much time in our lives doing what we think we should do. White knuckling and powering through. What if we did more of what we wanted and less of what we think we should be doing? Sure, there are things we can’t just up and quit without consequence, but we can make more space in our life by quitting the things that aren’t value adds where we can. 

I love to win, but I’m learning that winning isn’t everything. 

I’m learning that I’m a quitter. 

I’m learning that’s okay.