On Quitting
The truth is, finishing can be the easier path.
Photo by Scott Schell
When I was 19 I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder.
My spleen was attacking my platelets.
Without medical intervention, I would have eventually just bled to death. Some thin vessel, somewhere in my body would have burst and my body would not have responded with a blood clot.
I didn’t consider that my body was trying to tell me something. I didn’t yet understand that our bodies know.
Instead, I fought like hell to keep going. I only napped when the fatigue won, and I felt like I had lost.
I had three surgeries in less than a year. I was on crutches for 3 months. My only thought was training to get back on the soccer field, and passing my classes so I could keep playing soccer.
I remember friends talking about leaving school, and some actually leaving. It was like they were speaking Martian.
I can’t say I regret it. I’m proud that I graduated and I cherish every minute I spent on the soccer field.
But I do feel so much tenderness for that tired body that couldn’t keep up, that did not want to keep up.
And I can’t help but wonder what she would have done, if I had been able to listen.
At 19, all I knew was to keep going.
I remember the moment I realized that stopping is an option.
We had just graduated. A friend and I were determined to climb a fourteen thousand foot peak before leaving Colorado. We were up at 5am and at the base camp by 11, perfect timing, but terrible conditions.
We arrived to find everyone huddled behind a rock to block the wind and discussing how dangerous it was to summit, that with this wind you were liable to get blown right off.
I thought, well, it’s gonna be tough so no sense procrastinating! I pulled my hood tight, hunched over and marched towards the summit.
My friend, on the other hand, turned and started to walk back down.
I shouted, “What are you doing?”
He shouted back, “What are you doing?”
“Going up”
“No you’re not, that’s stupid. Let’s just go back down, try another day…”
Turn around? You mean, we can just decide to stop? We don’t have to keep going no matter what?
This revolutionary insight taught me how to say no to pilot training later that year, which was the first pivotal moment of saying yes to my life.
What I’ve learned the hard way is that finishing can be the easier path. Finishing is linear. Quitting forces us to confront that dreaded question, “What now?”
At 38, I’m proud to say I’ve mastered quitting. I’m clear that within every no, is a bigger yes. No is a prerequisite to yes. Every no prunes away more and more of what is not us, not ours to do, and leaves us with only our essential yes — our place, and our work to do in the world.
And staying with your yes doesn’t feel like “Finishing what you started,” it feels like living — creating, trail blazing.
Quitters get a bad rap in our culture, but quitters are warriors. Quitters are creative. Eventually we call quitters leaders.
Steve Jobs quit college.
The Buddha quit life, and sat under a tree — for years.
Do you know what they call mountaineers who know when to quit on a summit attempt? Alive.
Quitting could save your life.
So what is it that you know, what does your body know, that you need to give your full-God-Damn-NO to? What potential YES, is waiting for you when you do?
You will only find out if you try.
And I hope you do.
The whole world hopes you do.
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