I Want to Quit

There it is. In big letters up there in the title. I want to quit. Quit. Stop. Drop it like a hot potato and never look back. Dunzo. Someone cue up the play-off music because this speech has gone too long and I need to be escorted off the stage. 

Here's the thing – I am not a quitter. I don't quit things. Like, ever. Bad habits? I am committed. Morning routine? Can't live without it. Same shoes with every outfit? Um, yes and I am never giving them up. Dove soap? Is there any other soap out there? The Bearded Wonder swears that if there were anyone more committed to consistency and all around same-ness, the world would cease. (He puts up with this really gracefully, by the way. Someone send that man a hundred bucks and a gift card to the local liquor store.) For me, not quitting something means that you've invested yourself, your time, energy, efforts and heart into something that you're willing to go back to again and again. No. Matter. What. 

So what's different about this time? To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure. It's like one day I was in the moment with this thing, and I hit a wall. I couldn't get beyond it. I couldn't see around it. It shut down my creativity, and then it felt as though it cut off my ability to expand. I feel trapped, and I'm not good at confined spaces.

This week I've faced it more than ever. I've faced it on my own, with a week's worth of nights alone staring at my ceiling, begging the heavens for direction. The fuzzy dog snores on his dad's side of the bed, and I churn in uncertainty. I don't know what to do. I catch myself wondering what the graceful decision is. I am as clueless now as when I first collided with this wall. I wish for his advice, but I think this is a decision I need to make. I want to quit. But... I'm not a quitter...