Because Giving Up Isn't Easier

When you're rolling down a hill and realize it hurts, even if you give up, let your limbs go limp, you'll still keep tumbling but you'll most likely end up a lot more broken.

Regrets are more fun with friends.

Yet when you're sinking in quicksand, effort is usually a great way to sink faster and end up overcome before you can think of a better way to get out.

Let's face it; if we ever get out of this, we're never eating oatmeal again.

When you're a serial self-defeatist, you'll take the first analogy and 'defend' it with the second, which forces us to drop the analogies and get to the heart of it.

You're not rolling down a hill and you're not stuck in quicksand, quickly checking my blog to see if I get to the point and offer a rescue solution, so where are you?

She's still figuring out how to turn it on.

You tried and failed, or at least didn't achieve immediate satisfaction, so it's okay to give up, right? I can't answer that. What I can say is that we often see giving up as a reprieve from further failure or the insanity of futility. However, we just as often carry a rather uncomfortable burden when giving up wasn't the best idea.

You can't possibly be THIS bad at life.

I'm not inexperienced with giving up. I've often been encouraged to keep going with something I've tried but lost all love for it. It's not unusual to get a tons of supporters and no patrons. We can survive it and keep pressing...

If it's truly what you want to do.

I've been blessed/cursed with a life full of odd jobs. While lumped in as service/retail in nature, I've been through the gauntlet: pizza cook, bookseller, cashier, jewelry seller, florist, crochet crafter. While I found immense pleasure in the learning and new skill sets, I knew at some point that I was clawing at air. It wasn't a matter of financial success or ability or difficulty that ultimately made them fall off but they weren't something I truly enjoyed when push came to shove. I didn't want to smell like food 24-7, I'd rather read or write books, fuck standing at a register, there was too much sexism in being the jewelry counter chick, loved flowers but hated the corporate fuckery, crochet was joyless outside of being a hobby (unless you're fond of most people equating you to a factory worker in an impoverished country).

Only 2,000 more stitches to go (for a hat)!

I'm simplifying those a bit, but they didn't stand up to adversity and a part of me knew as much but gave it a shot anyway. In truth, I knew that telling stories was what I wanted to do. I can be pretty damn funny in casual conversation but speaking in crowds became mortifying after elementary school when I was a lead in school plays and I've never taken to it since. I love to draw, I love to write-- I knew damn well my peace with failure lie there.

How do we know? We don't until we do. I can't offer you a revolutionary new idea here. Despite being told any number of discouraging things or even the punch to the gut that it was, I never heard that little voice that said it wouldn't work out when it comes to writing and drawing. It might have said some pretty distinct trash talk but it didn't kill me. My muse is a powerful whisperer and she always says--

"My reign has just begun."

My calling just didn't accept the first analogy and was even further from the second. I was Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill. Could it be in futility? No. I've pushed a lot of rocks up hills but this one is different. In my mind, I will wear the hill flat. First the grass will give, then the dirt will start to crumble. I'll wear the boulder smooth.

In case you didn't get the Sisyphus reference...

It sounds like it gets easier, right? Perhaps sometimes the path is flat but sometimes the smooth shiny rock will catch the sun and blind me. Maybe I'll stop to wipe the sting of sweat and it will roll down on top of me. I might accidentally flatten someone's house pet. I'll blister, bleed, cry and curse and still... I know even if I lay at the bottom under the rock, sure I'm done, something growls with primal need and I push the rock again.

Huh. Well, it's not THAT heavy. Now I just feel silly.

You can stop all you want but it's not easier. When it haunts you, you know giving up is out of the question. You might need to toss aside some of the smaller experiences that you thought you wanted, but when you find the one, nothing is easy.

A serial self-defeatist will decide that a calling sounds too scary. They'll lament a life in the comfort of misery and tell successful people they're only lucky. They won't risk the scary unknown for a real chance to achieve happiness.

Would we really have such amazing things in this world if success were guaranteed? The problem is the big picture. We see what we can do and we see where we want it to lead. Success comes in steps and not linear ones. Even those who plan, don't plan for the branches of trial and error, of failure and outside forces. Plan small, plan possible. If writing those long term goals is really a hopeful exercise, don't write it on the same page of what you need to work for now. There will be steps you didn't see, micro opportunities that present themselves.

Record your achievements no matter how small. I have a horrible memory so I did this for my fitness journal so I could see every little change. I didn't do it for fear of giving up but so I could see for myself there was never a day without progress. With writing, the word count grows. I didn't have that marker for exercise and namely because it's not always visible (especially for those with body dysmorphia). Our bodies forget pain and disability as much as possible. Sometimes I wanted to see for myself exactly when 3 pushups was hard and when 30 was standard.

When you're used to self defeat, start a new pattern like this. File your stories or drawings by date. Look at the progression of your efforts. It's harder to give up when you have so many reasons not to.

Some people are miserable yet afraid of giving up. Especially when it's a dream that isn't taking off. If you're truly improving, truly getting better but you're in a slump, don't be afraid to pull away for days, weeks, months, years. If it's truly what you want, the hunger won't go anywhere. Sometimes allowing the distance allows those rutted ideas to find higher ground. Allow the highs and lows. Forcing it won't always work, waiting won't always work. You might need to focus on one thing or spread out to compliment your natural inspirations.

Even when you're not actively working on your project, you might find yourself in the mood, more often than not, to read articles about it, edit or beta read, jot things down, scribble out a picture. This is productive. Don't tell yourself it's not what you should be doing. Sometimes what we demean as procrastination is where you're developing a methodology that will be your most effective tools.

If you must stop, an unfinished project might be a temptation more than having finished and hanging out with what to do next. On the bright side, creative pursuits aren't the most painful place to stop.

I'll just stop riiiiiight here.