i quit my corporate job and nothing bad happened!

on why quitting doesn't make you a huge loser

Winners never quit and quitters never win.

I am, at my core, a quitter.

Before I lose you, gentle reader, let me explain.

I was eight years old when I had my first panic attack. I remember the pattern of the carpet that I dug my fingers into, the way my lungs felt like smushed soda cans, the buzz of voices in the next room I couldn’t reach. Nestled in between sun-soaked, rosy memories of days spent outside and first sleepovers and the laughter of my childhood friends are memories of nights where I clutched at my own chest, feeling an invisible fist close tight around my heart.

I spent much of my adolescence teetering on a fine line between multiple worlds — the one that preoccupied most of my time was the roiling sea of my own mind. No matter where I was, what I was doing, who I was with, always, there was a little voice taunting me. It was a cacophony of threats I couldn’t disprove — that everyone hated me, that if I spent too long in one place I’d die, that any failing would inevitably lead to my untimely death and people would celebrate it, that I only ever left bad marks on the world around me. I could be accused of digging up every hatchet I’ve ever buried to stare at it long and hard, trying to figure out what went wrong, listening to ghostly, distorted conversations, and desperately trying to resurrect the moment that things turned sour.

It was only when I forced myself to squirm through years of therapy that I learned one simple thing: I cannot control anything but myself.

It was uncomfortable to hear. I had for so long felt unmoored and tossed around by the sudden harsh tectonic moves of life. I had convinced myself that if I worried hard enough, long enough, more than everyone else, I could be ready for all the bad things. If I could predict every bad outcome, I could build the shield between myself and the shitstorm.

But the truth is, I can’t. No one can. Sometimes the storm comes unbidden and you cannot protect yourself.

So, when two months into my corporate job I found myself thinking, Oh my God, this isn’t what I want, you can imagine the anxious girl dilemma that ensued. Though the dial on my constant buzz of anxiety has been turned down thanks to Lexapro and years of therapy under my belt, it rose again to a deafening roar. All I could imagine was the reactions of my family, my friends, the people at work I’d already bonded with if I said I was going. I thought of struggling through a career I realized I didn’t want instead of carving a different (probably more difficult) path for myself. I spent days thinking, what am I doing? Why haven’t I done it? WHY CAN’T I? What happens after? Is it going to be bad? What if I stick it out? The uncertainty felt like something sharp twisting in my gut. Though I had something new lined up and an application for a Masters degree half-written on my laptop, the fear was icy cold and paralyzing.

But I’m a quitter. After years of forcing myself and trying hard and bleeding myself into things I didn’t want and relationships that sucked my soul, I taught myself how to quit. I have sliced ties with toxic friends, built firm boundaries for my relationships, abandoned projects that brought me nothing but stress and pain. I don’t accept things that don’t serve me anymore because of my anxiety. There is some truth to the uncertainty — you never know when your last moment might be. You never know what choice will be your last. So I taught myself how to demand more from the one life I’ve been given, because you really don’t know when the shitstorm is coming.

So, I did it. I sat in a conference room and called my manager and told her, though my hands were trembling under the table. I slogged through two weeks, every moment waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the spiteful words, the angry looks, the shouting, the disappointment, the doom to crush me from above. But all I saw was kindness. Respect. Understanding.

Today, I spent my day working a fulfilling job. I buried myself in a book. I planned for a weekend with the love of my life. I plugged away at my manuscript, enveloping myself in a different world. I worked on my application for the Masters degree that will unlock a path I’ve dreamed of for almost a decade.

Because I do not accept a life that is any less than I deserve. And neither should you.

Winners never quit and quitters never win.

No. Winners just know when to quit.