This one is for the 'quitters'

I see you, I hear you, I am you

a beautiful forest in NZ we visited years ago that has nothing to do with quitting but is very calming to look at

Hey lovely quitters readers. Today I wanted to write about quitting (I know, surprise twist right?!). I’ve always self identified as a bit of a ‘quitter’. Perhaps you do too? And I spend time thinking about it, worrying about it, perhaps more than I should… A Ruby Tandoh article from a few years ago is always floating around in my mind, both comforting and slightly disconcerting me.

Quitting has been front of mind a bit more this year, both in macro because I finally decided to quit my degree (see below); and in micro because I have been watching Alone- the Swedish one because sometimes watching TV with subtitles is a bit like travelling, and the Norwegian wilderness is stunning- and wondering how long I would last before giving up. (In case you were curious, I think the furthest I would make it on Alone is probably binge-watching episodes from the couch with a cup of tea and a little treat. What about you?) A common feeling among those that lasted the longest, alone, out in the wilderness, was that no matter how much their body wanted to stop, no matter how much they wanted to call it quits and go home- their brains just wouldn’t let them give up. As my oldest friend said to me when we caught up the other day, her stubborness always outweighs her desire to quit. As for those contestants on Alone.

So I have been thinking about my career of quitting, thus far. The things I have quit thread through my life, a little plotline of decisions made and reneged on…

The very first thing I remember deciding to quit was piano lessons. I was about ten years old and we had moved from my grandparents’ farm with their large living room complete with pool table and old pianola, which was a lot of fun to play and learn on, to a small house in a nearby suburb that had no room for a proper piano and thus, my piano practice was relegated to a small, fold out keyboard. I was… less than thrilled. (And actually, looking back now, my tantrum over the piano was most defnitely a manifestation of the pure, ten year old fury I felt about moving to our new house… I was an intense child. Sorry mum and dad!) So I declared that I simply could not play on such an instrument. And I quit. (A little side note: as life has a funny way of coming full circle- I am now paying the mortgage on that very house and we do, in fact, have a piano in the living room… I may pull out my old sheet music yet.)

A year or two after this, I quit the netball team after just one season of freezing cold mornings out on a wet court in a miniskirt, trying to catch a slippery ball with numb fingers. If you know me at all, that I only lasted one season playing team sports (in winter, no less!) will come as no surprise. Indeed, the only reason I signed up was because that is what every other girl in my grade at school was doing and I still hadn’t figured out the pure joy of flagrantly fucking off peer pressure.

I’ve quit every single job I’ve ever had, with the longest stint at any one place no more than probably two years. And I am adamant that there are few greater feelings than that of quitting some job you didn’t really care about or like that much (see, all of my past jobs).

I’ve quit university, twice! Gosh, I just love quitting. I made it halfway through an arts degree when I was 19, and made it halfway through a nutrition degree when I was 34 - that is now, for those of you playing along at home.

I quit a food waste volunteer project I was working on during my time in Sydney, just because… I didn’t want to do it anymore.

Probably the hardest thing I have ever decided to quit was making cakes (as a business- I still very much make cakes at home but they are much smaller and generally only dirty one or two bowls). It was the right decision, but it was a hard one to make.

and I still love every cake I made…

Reading back over my list of failed pursuits, I actually don’t feel much except relief. I remember making most of the decisions to stop doing these things, and the feeling I have is kind of just the embodiment of contentment. I don’t tend to be one to dwell on the past or wallow in regret (mostly because my weapon of choice is generally agonising about and worrying over the future instead). I don’t feel bad about the things I have quit. But I do feel bad about my tendency to quit. Which tells me that perhaps what I am actually feeling bad about is societal influence, rather than personal failing?

That I have quit at all makes me feel less than, even though I am happy with the decisions I have made. Do we, as a society perhaps place too much emphasis on just pushing through even when our bodies say stop? Do we place too much importance on not giving up even when we have changed our minds? Is changing our minds an option, even? Shouldn’t we congratulate people when they set out on a path, realise perhaps it was not what they thought, and thus change course to try something else? I am genuinely asking here- I would love you to share your thoughts on this. This might all be in my head, and nobody else feels remotely bad about quitting things whenever they damn please. I, for one, take great comfort in invoking the sunk cost fallacy, even though it doesn’t completely alleviate my anxieties around my tendency to quit.

I quit a lot, we have established that. But as I have been thinking about this, the theme that threads together those moments in life where I haven’t quit - even when things got hard and sucky- emerged.

I don’t quit when I care. When the motivation is intrinsic. When it is something important to me, regardless of what anyone else thinks.

I didn’t quit my very first (awful) job until I had earned enough spending money to take on a school trip to Europe (must be nice, I know)- me earning my spending money was a condition of going. And I really wanted to go.

I worked three jobs simultaneously to save up for a solo overseas trip when I was eighteen. I worked and saved and didn’t quit until I had enough money to go.

I did this again, working every weekend and saving up every spare penny when I was 22, for another bout of long term travel. It was a miserable, boring and VERY frugal year. But I didn’t give up, and it led to eighteen months of travelling and some of the very best times of my life.

another time I didn’t quit, also on that trip that took a VERY LONG year to save for

I have never quit writing. I have been writing ever since I was a tiny kid, making my own little books in my spare time. I can’t quit. It is too important to me.

I didn’t quit breastfeeding, even when it was hard and I felt suffocated and a bit trapped by it. I haven’t quit sleeping next to my toddlers, even when sometimes I would like my bed back -only sometimes though, I actually love sleeping next to my kids.

I haven’t quit being a stay at home mum even though it is, without a doubt, the absolute hardest thing I have ever done. It is a trade-off- I get to spend lots of precious time with my kids while they are young, but I have very little autonomy and even less money. It is all consuming (in the early years at least). It is sometimes suffocating and frustrating and there have definitely been times when I have wanted to just leave and do something else (both in a realistic ‘put them in daycare and get a different job way’, and, in slightly more desperate moments, a more fantastical ‘run off and live on a tropical island alone’ way).

I haven’t quit caring about the world and wanting to make it a better place, in whatever way I can, ever since I was that tiny kid writing a list of ‘rules I would make if I was the Queen’, one of which was ‘make people use both sides of a piece of paper when they are drawing because otherwise it is a waste’. I may have been a bit of a precocious pain in the arse??

There isn’t a whole lot that is really, really important to me in life. But the things that are, I won’t quit.

I will never quit photographing ephemeral beauty or loving flowers

Thank you for being here, thank you for reading. I love you.

Jordan x