Mastering the art of quitting


I can say with some confidence that there are very few things that I am really good at. I can make a nice cup of tea, a mean carbonara, and great playlists. That’s barely a glowing CV. When it comes to quitting, however, I am something of an expert.

Recently, I began confessing the news that I have quit my MA for good.

I’ve been working on it for so many years and I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t seen it through to the end. My husband and my closest friends have done nothing but support me while I’ve been working on it, and I know that I’ve let them down.

But it’s not just that.

It’s that this is what I suspected would happen all along. This is the outcome I was trying to avoid. I quit lots of things. (I don’t know if you’ve got that impression about me yet, but you’ll discover it’s quite the recurring theme).

Over the years I’ve developed more than a bad habit of quitting, it’s become more of a reputation. I start things with plenty of enthusiasm and before long, I drift and flail and eventually flake out.

So let me just say here and now that it’s incredibly likely that I will probably quit this blog that I just started. (NB. This is not the first time I’ve started a blog…)

There are probably a whole range of psychological reasons for my inexplicable urge to quit things, but I even quit figuring out what they were.

Because what I really need to quit is quitting.

The MA was supposed to be the thing that broke the quitting cycle. I was convinced that I was going to see it through and come out with a degree and a first draft of my memoir.

Doubts about my ability to finish have been hovering for years now and I shrugged them off and tried to tell myself that I would get there in the end.

After I submitted half of the first draft of my memoir earlier this year, I knew that the gig was up. I felt very little about what I had created. It wasn’t the book I wanted to write. Not even close. I could barely even call it a first draft – merely words slung together on the page.

The problem was that I wasn’t passionate about what I was writing anymore. And that has always been the problem. Many years ago, when I was young and naive and certain that I would one day be a successful writer, I felt very  sure that I had something to say and that writing was my purpose in life.

These days, I feel less like I have anything to say and have no passion. Has apathy got the better of me, or am I simply looking for my raison d’etre in all the wrong places?

Do I even have a raison d’etre? Or should I just accept my etre sans raison (needless to say I was never great at French).

I always thought that writing was my passion but somewhere along the line I completely lost my love for it.

Maybe I’ll find something else. Maybe not. In the meantime, there’s always blogging…


4 thoughts on “Mastering the art of quitting

  1. Truely written……. But after reading your post it seems like you are somewhere blaming yourself for letting everyone’s down…….thinking of what everyone is thinking about you…….letting everyone affect your choices and that’s where you are leaving behind yourself…..letting yourself down because of only mentality what everyone will think…..and after this that you have some type of reputation that eventually you will quit what you are doing ….its not like that so please keep that mentality far behind and you will succeed or we can say you can find a more passionate thing to do like you are doing when you are taking care of your family and your closest friends …..and see there you are not letting it down because as a result they all love and support you…..see you have succeeded one and can many more………sorry for anything i have written which you don’t write …….but it was like i wanted to tell you…….that you have succeed in one and can in others only be positive and search for something passionate like that…..really liked reading it……😊😊😊😊


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