Quitting When It's hard
You should know that good things take time
Confession— I have the tendency to quit when things get hard. My wheels seem to be exclusively greased by instant gratification. They’re made obsolete and left to rust if I’m lacking. I’m what you could call an intellectual nomad. When my passion projects, relationships, career goals don’t move as smoothly as I had envisioned, I abandon the pursuit altogether in search of something simpler. This is one of my very worst traits. I have quit far more than I have ever completed. Maybe one of those pursuits could have made me that much more fulfilled or successful, but we’ll never know. I’ve been missing this particular pursuit, though. The act of writing and sharing my musings with people who actually care. The knowledge that even if I’m shouting into the internet’s infinite void, I’m still flexing my creative muscles and reinforcing their strength.
I think the cure to this abandonment habit is (1) recentering the goal, and (2) filtering out the projects pursued for the wrong reasons. I quit because I wasn’t receiving the praise I was hoping for- something I am ashamed to even type out. I was missing the influx of ‘great works' and ‘loved its,’ so focused on centering validation that I forgot how many other benefits this skill can have. I don’t need a horde of adoring fans, waiting with bated breath for the next moment I decide to hit “post.” All I need is a sense of pride in my work, and the sense that I’m strengthening a skill I truly care about. If I have that, it should be enough for me to keep going.
When it comes to filtering the projects that are pursued for the wrong reasons, I tend to be slightly more tunnel-visioned. I like to set up a whole new version of myself in my head, tied to whatever new pursuit seems most appealing in that moment. It looks something like: I just talked to the girl sitting beside me in class and we really hit it off! I bet she’d look great in a blue silk dress when she’s one of my bridesmaids— not yellow, though. It can also be— ceramics class seems like a good pastime! If I become one of the best sculpture artists in this class, they’ll display my work at the showcases.
When my reality doesn’t seem to be on the path to aligning with my fantasies, I abandon altogether in search of a new high. I know it sounds silly. Reading it over it even sounds that way to me. I am so adept at romanticizing my future, I forget how much I’m hindering myself in the present. Fantasy is lovely, but as I’ve stressed in past articles on this very page, it must be tethered in reality in order to prove advantageous.
Coming back on my Substack regularly will be the second time I have intentionally broken the pattern, and hopefully the second time it proves to be a benefit to my personal growth. I finished my first marathon just a few weeks ago. I started training with a certain version of my race-day self in mind. Ponytail pulled tight and out of my eyes to reveal the determined gleam there, sibling to the satisfied smirk slashed across my face. My steps would be light and unbothered, a girl practically floating through the course with a confident stride. Spectators would gawk as I passed. Other runners would avert their gazes. Of course, that’s not how any of it truly happened.
I was out of breath, my perfect ponytail disheveled after what felt like mere minutes from the starting line. I struggled my way through the first 17 miles, repeating a don’t start walking, don’t start walking mantra over in my head until it was the background symphony to my increasingly uneven footsteps. By the 18th mile, I was prepared to quit. I wanted to find my mom somewhere in the crowd, complaining about the unrelenting pain while gingerly lowering myself to the pavement. I was ready to accept defeat until a specific phrase stood tall amongst the sea of creative posters created by onlookers. In plain black letters against a solid white background, the sign boldly read, “Remember your why.”
My why. I had signed up for this ridiculous thing in the first place to prove to myself that I can do it. My why was not that I wanted people to see me at my peak athleticism. It wasn’t for a horde of “that’s amazing, congrats!” text messages. It was for me. It was a gift to myself, an act of showing up and proving that I can be what I have built myself up to be in my head. My why was not for anyone else to carry with them. It’s my why.
These past few weeks, I had forgotten my why of writing. Now I’m back, because that plain yet powerful poster still flashes in my mind whenever I’m on the verge of quitting. I know my why, and I’m back to prove that it’s worthy. I hope you’ll forgive my sabbatical; I’ve found my way back to myself now.
Life has been feeling a little bit unconventional lately, so I can relate heavily to the String of Pearls, or Senecio rowleyanus. I’m uneven and a little bit strange to observe. I am definitely hearty and tough to get rid of, don’t worry. I’ll be sticking around for a while. With that being said, I’m still feeling relatively slow to grow. I hope to get back into the swing of things shortly. I dream of burrowing my roots in deeper, to feel more at home in my surroundings. For now, expect absurdity but also stagnation. The String of Pearls is wacky but also known to eventually win you over. It kind of seems like I’ll only be truly blooming in the summer, but I really hope that’s not the case.
The entire point of my article firmly stands, though I would still greatly appreciate some love on here. I’ll be back more regularly starting now. I’m sorry for giving you any reason to doubt it. Until next week!