Q Is For Quit
Quit. Quitting. Quitter.
It’s kind of a dirty word. I say it and have a negative connotation to it. Even when you are telling someone else to quit, it’s sort of an ugly word. I myself don’t like it.
Logically there’s no shame in “quitting”. It’s your own life and it should be what you want, the way you want. Changing course means nothing more than deciding upon a different path to take. But I confess, in my mind, I probably equate the word quit with failure. As though quitting means not living up to my full potential. Giving up. Earlier this week I was accused of not trying and it infused every ounce of my being with rage. But thinking further, perhaps it was also mixed with shame. As though perhaps deep down I wondered if they were right. Did I give up? Did I quit? Did I give up on that chance or quit because it was too hard or run away from the person because it was scary?
While I pledge to live my life without regret for my decisions,
somewhere in the core you also bury the what if-s in order to live such a life.