Rule number one? Never quit.
This sentence punctuated much of my early life. For as long as I can remember, my parents reiterated the importance of never giving up, following through on your plans and committing everything you have to whatever you’re working on. For 18 years I heeded this advice without question. Whether it was maintaining memberships in clubs that did not interest me, missing my best friend’s sweet 16 for a babysitting gig, or keeping a miserable job in a hostile work environment, I devoted myself to my tasks thoroughly and entirely regardless of the overall cost of my mental well-being. I dedicated everything I had to the responsibilities I’d taken on, regardless of how they interfered with my life; after all, wasn’t that how people were successful in the real world?
Then came college. After getting into a number different schools around the United States, I found myself torn between Stephens College and a prestigious East Coast university. After months of weighing the pros and cons of both campuses, I found myself drawn to the robust alumni network, campus history and prominent reputation offered by the East Coast school. It wasn’t until after I'd unpacked my clothing, decorated my dorm in the latest Ikea offerings and purchased my books, that I realized I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
Far removed from my Colorado home, I was isolated, 2,000 miles away from the people I loved. Moreover, I found myself daunted in lectures with 300 other people. Although I continued to push myself to achieve my personal best, it’s never easy to thrive in an environment where you’re thoroughly miserable. Still, I marched onward, taking extra classes during my vacations in hopes of graduating early. I convinced myself that if I endured my misery until I graduated, I could end my college years with a job. Once I was hired, I could focus on trying to be happy.
Somewhere during the first semester of my sophomore year, I was taking an accounting course. In one lesson, my professor pointed out that time was a limited resource. Although I always knew that time was a scarcity, looking at the financial breakdown of its value triggered an existential crisis. If time was scarce, why was I relegating four, or even three years of my life to misery? After overanalyzing the philosophy of my accounting lesson for about a week, I began to examine the idea of changing the course of my life.
I had become ensnared in the idea of following my plan precisely, stubbornly sticking to my path without leaving any room for flexibility. After looking within myself, I chose to evaluate my choices, accepting that I may need to back down from a commitment in order to begin living the life I wanted while continuing to push myself to achieve my personal best. Accepting that I was miserable on the East Coast allowed me to reexamine my options as I decided to transfer to Stephens College. There, it quickly became obvious that I had finally found the perfect fit.
The forces that lead our lives (whether you believe it's God, the universe, karma, or any other power) rarely offer a plan that is precisely as we envision it. Instead, we're left to adapt and alter our dreams, goals and expectations to make the most of our current situation. As we grow and learn, our needs shift accordingly. In order to be functional adults we must be willing to shift gears as needed, remembering that time is fleeting and that all things pass, acknowledging that sometimes quitting is vital to obtaining inner peace.
