Confessions of a Quitter

I'm a quitter. I get inspired by things, I jump in then the newness wears off and I quit. It's a rather undesirable trait, one about which I am not proud. Funny thing is my children are teaching me something - there are some things you can't quit, namely them.

When I think back to my childhood at the first sign that I was a quitter, I remember scenes in a Principal's office where I begrudgingly listened as the dark haired, older man explained in a seemingly condescending manner that quiting cheerleading would only make me a quitter. Since he didn't want to encourage that, he wouldn't let me quit. I showed him. I still showed up for practice and games but I didn't have to cheer because I had a doctor's note. Although I won that battle, I didn't really win because, since then, I have continued to quit things rather than tough them out but, for once, I really have been trumped. I can't quit my kids and I'm supremely thankful for that even though there are times I would love to go running - at least for a few hours of quiet.



When I ponder how I became a quitter, or rather, what flaw in my character predisposed me to quit, I can't pin point the true cause. Perhaps I was spoiled by my good parents? Although I think I was fortunate to have been raised by thoughtful, caring parents, I can't blame them for my predicament because my brother was raised the same way and he is anything but a quitter. As a published writer of short stories and a professor of English, he has done nothing but tirelessly fight for his dream. I wouldn't have the patience to write and attempt to get published just one story or article much less the many, many things that my brother has written and gotten published. So, how I was raised was not the cause of my quitter-ness.



Perhaps a reason for my tendency toward quitting is that I have too many interests and I find it difficult to determine which interests are my soul's calling and which ones are mere curiosities. That in itself isn't enough though. I think that the underlying cause is likely to be laziness, yet another pleasant quality that I find I'm guilty of. Basically, I like things to go smoothly and to be nice. When things get tough, it exhausts my mental faculties and I need to rest which is a nice way of saying be lazy. I can't do too much.



Three babies later, I'm not lazy anymore. Now, although I may throw my hands in the air with the appearance of giving up, I still face struggles head on because my babies are my ultimate responsibility. Of course, I still find myself walking upstream against my tendency toward resisting difficulties when faced with the many challenges a parent faces but my children don't let me quit. I absolutely can't.



Perhaps if I had listened to the principal back in the days when he tried to keep me from quitting, I would never have gone down the quitter's path. The fact is I didn't listen to him. His authority was not strong enough for me to push back my lazy tendencies. Thankfully, the maternal instincts that flow through my blood coupled with the soft cuteness of my boys has trumped my lazy nature and pushed me beyond quitting to embracing life's difficulties as I learn to drink in the beauty of life as a mother even when it's hard as hell.