The Benefit of Quitting

For some people, not quitting may come easy. It wasn't for me.

As a child, I would excel rapidly in a sport or sport skill, then plateau and watch my peers surpass me. So I would quit.

Baseball, basketball, track summer swim league, wrestling eventually football and water polo...I wasn't a naturally gifted athlete. Superlatives about me were the sort that sounded like this:

"He's a hard worker."

"He's got a lot of heart."

"Great encourager."

Notice how there weren't things like "Holy smokes is that kid fast!" or "Dang he's strong!" I was exactly what they said I was, I had a lot of heart or had a great work ethic, right up until I didn't. Part of the game was having fun for me, and always losing or always riding the bench wasn't exactly my idea of fun. Selfish to a point but I also believe completely normal. Nobody tries out for the football team and sets their goal as:

"Boy I hope I ride the bench and never get to play."

"Man I sure hope I suck and get beat on every play."

Nobody wants that. Everyone wants to succeed. When I didn't, I quit.

Sometimes it'd be years before I pulled the old ejection handle, and sometimes it'd be weeks. I want to say sometimes the endeavor wasn't worth my time and quitting was actually in my best interest in the long run, but I'd be denying the fact that there was probably something good, noble, righteous, virtuous or wise to glean from that experience. By the time I'd reached my mid twenties, the slightest discomfort made me seek greener pastures. Quitting was now a habit.

It hit hard when I left Basic Reconnaissance Course (BRC), which is the school for Marines to become Recon Marines, one of the elite designations of the Marine Corps along with Scout Snipers, and Marine Raiders (MARSOC). It wasn't so much the physical side that was killing me, I was a little out of shape, but getting better. That's the thing about exercise, if you suck at it, but you do it a lot, eventually you don't suck at it. One incident stands out, it shook my confidence and made me quit in my mind well before I committed the physical act. It was during a land navigation exercise. I fancied myself to be pretty damn good at land navigation and excelled at it during my time in active duty. It was one of the few things where I stood out above my peers at School of Infantry (SOI). But for this exercise, something was off. I did everything I was supposed to, or thought I did. I got the wrong answer. I, not being the shy type, asked one of my instructors to help me and point me in the right direction. I walked him through my process step by step, each step and subsequent answer was given an approving nod. Got the same answer as before. The wrong one. He called another instructor over. We worked on it again. Wrong point. Three of us. Two instructors. Wrong point. How in the world was I going to pass the training evolution coming up if this trend continued? I'd be lost all over Camp Pendleton like some wayward stranger waiting to be arrested by MPs. My self confidence faltered. Despite being told I did everything right and I must have just gotten a wonky point or misprint, the castle walls had already started to crumble.

The next week, I quit. Not even two full weeks into training. I was so embarrassed. It was humiliating. But only to me. I knew what happened and regretted it immediately after it happened. Nothing beat me. I beat myself. I quit.

I struggled with life privately for many years after that. I quit counseling when I didn't feel I was getting the help I needed, only to self medicate with alcohol and at times prescription painkillers leftover from my various weekend warrior injuries. I would take up smoking periodically despite that being the only smart thing to quit, so I didn't really quit that, now did I?

Life as a quitter was miserable and I hated myself. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw someone I was disappointed in. A quitter. Lacking grit, determination and perseverance. I had finally arrived at a place where I hated myself enough for it to spark change.

Sometimes, you need to feel how bad it feels to quit, to never want to quit again. If you can never quit at something, good job. I'm proud of you. You figured it out much quicker than I did and I commend you. I don't bear jealousy or hatred for you, but rather joy, because quitting hurts. I bear numerous scars of regret and disappointment in myself for quitting all those times. I now look upon those times and wish I hadn't. Would my life be the same? No. Did quitting maybe serve a higher purpose? We'll never know because I quit and I'll never know what was on the other side perseverance all those years ago.

Quitting traumatizes the soul. Quitting is similar to anger in that the more involved you are with it, the more it poisons you. It steals your hunger and thirst for adventure. The very thing humanity was built for. We have this innate desire to discover the unknown, to push boundaries and to bring to light that which sits under the veil of darkness...

…but we can't do any of that when we quit.