I am nothing if not a trier. I try and try and try and try (and then I try some more). I have fought and battled and struggled and ended up with my nose smashed against the proverbial brick wall. Time and time again.
I beat my knuckles raw, I bleed my eyes dry, I flay my heart ragged, I drag my soul whimpering through the dust.
I hate giving up. I don’t believe in it. I fight it tooth and claw and mind and will.
Then I saw something on Twitter that gave me pause.
“Know When It Is Okay to Quit.”
‘One lesson you might learn from failure is that you are on the wrong curve for you,’ it said. And if you’re on the wrong curve, then quitting may be the smart choice. Hell, it even said that vainly pursuing something that just keeps biting you in the face, might be actively bad for your health, your wellbeing, your sanity.
‘It’s important to dream, and it’s important to know when to find a new dream.’
I guess it comes down to that old phrase, ‘No point flogging a dead horse.’
So today I sat with the sun warming my face and realised my jaw was clenched tight and my shoulder, my wounded shoulder, was hinged high like a broken wing. My entire body ached with tension and my heart felt like it had been pounded into stone. And, just like that, I thought ‘fuck it’ and I let it go, I let it all go.
I give up. Totally, completely, entirely. And don’t it feel good?