Skip to main content

Learning to Quit



What if quitting was a learned behavior? Have you ever considered that? And if so, when do you think you learned to quit?

I have a ten-month old son, Brecken, who is beginning to attempt walking. He will pull himself up on furniture, bob up and down a little bit, maybe side step some, and then eventually fall down. To this point, he’s known nothing but failure. Each attempt ends up with him landing squarely on his little behind, yet he remains enthusiastic and sometimes even giddy during these attempts. Why?

To start with, he’s exploring new and exciting horizons, experimenting ways to get into more trouble faster and more efficiently than ever before! But he also hasn’t learned to quit. He doesn’t know failure has a stigma. He hasn’t been inundated by people who have decided to just settle, being content to crawl for the rest of their lives because falling became too painful. In fact, he’s surrounded by four older siblings, all of whom walk, and he is eager to join them. He joyfully fails over and over again. He’s so excited about the small steps he makes, he mostly ignores the inevitable falls.

You are surrounded by people who have resigned themselves to crawl through life because they told themselves a story, a story that says falling is too high of a price to pay for the privilege of walking, much less running. You’ve been taught that failure is somehow shameful and to be avoided. You’ve been conditioned to believe hitting your chin on the train table (because not all the falls are cushioned by a soft diaper) is too costly and, if you stay content crawling, life won’t hurt as much. And somewhere along the line, you learned to give up. To settle. To compromise. To quit.

Here’s the good news: if quitting is learned, it can be unlearned. Just like any bad habit, it can be replaced. Your knees were meant for praying, not crawling.  



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Toxic Humility

We have all seen false humility: the guy who tries to hide his arrogance with feigned modesty. It’s usually pretty obvious and always obnoxious. But there is also another variation of false humility out there: toxic humility. This is often displayed in self-deprecating talk and a lack of self-confidence, belittling or undermining one’s own talents and abilities. The danger in this kind of behavior is twofold: it is too often accepted as true humility and like a virus, it spreads doubt and disbelief. To clarify, it is not that the bearer of this toxic humility isn’t honest about his view of himself. That is the very issue: he absolutely believes he has little value or utility. He thinks downplaying his own worth is humility but I disagree. CS Lewis said it best when he wrote, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it's thinking about yourself less.” His point being, true humility is not an ever-present raincloud of self-doubt that follows you around. It’s a focus on

Primed for Progress

Just as some pumps need to be primed to work effectively, our lives need to be “primed” to flow efficiently. Good mornings and productive days don’t happen by accident, and by “priming” your day, you can set yourself up for better results. Does it mean you won’t have bad days? Of course not, but it’s making your day happen instead of just waiting for what happens. Once again, it’s a choice of being proactive rather than reactive. You will still have challenges and difficulties, but how you face those hurdles and respond to the struggles will be different with a primed mindset. I am sure there are many ways to prime your day and set the tone for the hours ahead, and what works for one won’t necessarily work for all. However, the process of creating a plan or a model of how things should unfold is a great place for anyone to start. Also, as I have mentioned before, how you actually start the morning is critical - the battle with the alarm clock is your first chance at victory for

Flower Among Thorns

About six or seven years ago, my wife was around three months pregnant as we eagerly anticipated the birth of another child. One night, as I lay sleeping, I had a dream that our baby was born. It was a beautiful little girl with thin, wispy hair and large, bright eyes punctuating her beautiful face. I held her proudly in my arms and stared down at this precious little creation. I carefully handed her off to her older brother, who was just a toddler himself, as he sat on the coach, arms outstretched, anxiously awaiting the chance to hold his baby sister. I helped him prop up a pillow underneath his little arms to help support my daughter and then stepped back to take in the amazing sight as he gazed down at her with both pride and amazement in his eyes. As I stood there watching them, the dream quickly faded. When I woke up, my eyes met the tearful glance of my wife. “I’m bleeding,” she said as she fought back the emotions, “I think I am miscarrying.” Those words sunk deeply i