The Quitter

I quit.There's no shame in quitting. In fact, sometimes it is essential.

Like the time I had to stop. It made me flat and disinterested in other things. I felt nothing, so I kept trying to feel something. It got ridiculously risky. It had to go.

Or the time it made me think of suicide. Not only did it make food gross, but it made me think of killing myself. Making a plan. Considering the method, the act, and the aftermath. It had to go.

Then there was when it didn't work at all, but actually made things worse. It said to give it up to six months. I waited longer, but it only made it harder to deal with the symptoms. It was worse, yet 30 times more expensive than others. It had to go.

Once, it died. I said goodbye, and looked for another. But nothing panned out. I actually think the one attempt made matters painfully worse. It was discouraging and awkward. It had to go.

Now another one is set to go. It's never been comfortable, and it's never been worth it's cost. A few items already discounted, a few worth considering, but some were just wrong. More wrong than right. It has to go.

So today I quit. I'm done pushing through. I'm done soldiering on and spending mornings in a nauseated fog. I can't face another day of getting through and being wiped out just to start the cycle again the next day. Today I quit. Today I rest. Today I take care of me because I can. Because I need to.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I'll have the energy. Maybe tomorrow it won't be so hard. We'll see.

Tomorrow.