To Quit or not to Quit?

I’m going to start on a macro- level here, zooming out to the context of our entire [American] society, at least in the way that I perceive it. When we talk about American values, we often talk about capitalism, the self-made man, and the industrious, productive culture that revolted against cruel leadership and forged our own way [harkening back to 1776 here]. Today, these ideals remain the backdrop for our largely fast-paced, goal-driven society that continues to promote self-made people, emphasizing entrepreneurship and perseverance. We celebrate proverbs like “when the going gets tough, the tough get going.” It’s great in its ideal, singular form—conditions may become difficult, but if you have a strong character, you can push through. Especially in modern society, however, where we tend to overload ourselves with jobs, hobbies, and other responsibilities, it’s hard to adopt this proverb to cover all facets of life. If you just push through, so to speak, with everything you’re involved in, you’re going to end up half-assing many items on your to-do list. I’d like to propose a slightly altered form of the proverb instead: when the going gets tough, the tough reevaluate their priorities so as to only keep in their lives the things that bring them the most happiness and fully commit to that limited list.

 I’m writing on this topic because the concept of “quitting” activities is something I’ve been reflecting a lot about lately. That term, quitting, really carries a horrible negative connotation in our society [tell me you didn’t feel it even a little bit when you read the previous sentence]. We tend to think poorly of people that we’ve labeled, for one reason or another, “quitters.” Maybe the ideal situation would be never starting anything that might not fit neatly into your life, or never joining a club or group that you’re not sure if you’ll like. But then how would we ever try new things? In that way, I think everyone is destined to be a quitter at some point in life.

 Personally, I know I’ve quit tons of things over the years. For example, pretty much every single sport that my parents signed me up for as a kid. Tennis? I cried, stood by the fence, and refused to play. Soccer? I just really did not want to wear those shin pads. Softball? Don’t even get me started on my lack of hand-eye coordination. This isn’t a tragedy—I’m so glad that I quit all of those sports in my youth because it opened up time for me to do things that I actually enjoyed: art classes and horseback riding when I was younger, stage crew and Model UN during high school. I don’t participate in those clubs anymore either—I guess I technically “quit” them once I came to college and traded those activities for new ones.   

 That’s what I mean when I say that quitting can be great. If I had kept pursuing Model UN and stage crew, I definitely wouldn’t have had time to try rowing too, and I would have never discovered the sport that I’ve come to love. That particular instance may have been an almost accidental instance of prioritization via quitting, but here’s a genuine one.

 When I attended my college’s Activities Fair during freshman year orientation, I signed up for probably twenty clubs—everything sounded fun and I was so excited to branch out, make new friends, and try new hobbies [welcome to my overachieving liberal arts school]! As the first weeks of fall passed, that immense selection of clubs dwindled down to one: rowing. At the same time, I rushed my former sorority and got involved in Greek life on my campus. While these pursuits were few in number, they were massive in time commitment, and even as early as my first semester on campus, I found it exceedingly difficult to juggle the demands of both responsibilities. At first, I tried to reconcile conflicts between the two by trading off which one to prioritize, but then I felt as though I was half-participating in both things, fully committing to neither. Especially as I got more involved with the rowing team, I began to drift apart from the other girls in my sorority.

 This is not to say that there’s anything wrong with Greek Life. If I had put in the time and effort and socialization that other women in my pledge class did in order to get to know each other and the other members of our group, I’m sure that I would have felt at home as well. Since I didn’t, however, I felt increasingly separate. After two years of growing distance between myself and my sorority sisters, I decided to drop that engagement. Although it was a challenging decision to make, reflecting back on it makes it very clear that said choice not only relieved so much stress in my life, but also made me a better athlete and teammate to the others in my rowing club as I was no longer having to stretch my time between two demanding commitments.

 Feeling like I’m doing something halfway never leaves me feeling good. If I’m going to commit to an activity or group, I want to commit fully; I want to do it right. “Quitting” my sorority gave me the opportunity to truly devote myself to my rowing team throughout the last semester. I no longer have to worry about getting fined for missing sorority functions so that I can attend a regatta. I no longer have to consider the implications of a missed practice before I go to a sisterhood event. One of these pressures had to give, and clearly delineating my priorities as well as reflecting on the benefits and drawbacks of each helped me to make that decision.

 If you’re feeling like your life is similarly cluttered, or you’re finding it difficult to keep up with the demands of your various commitments, I invite you to take a step back with me and think about what makes you truly happy. Of course, it’s not always quite that easy. Activities are often entangled in social relationships and other factors that complicate the decision-making process when considering their value. I’m big on pros and cons lists, so when I’m in that type of situation, sketching up one of those is often my go-to strategy. If you’re looking for a more systematic way to rank your priorities, however, let me introduce you to my best friend [drum roll please]: the decision matrix.

 My dad introduced me to this concept while I was in middle school and considering matriculating to a few different private high schools in my area as well as my local public school [spoiler alert: that’s where I ended up going]. I felt very undecided about what I actually wanted, and it was difficult to compare these options to each other, as they all had different perks and my reasons for liking each were vastly different. My dad, who is one of the [if not the] smartest, most logical people I know, helped me make a decision matrix to evaluate my options in a systematic, mathematical way that helped me define my priorities and apply them accordingly. Since then, I’ve used the decision matrix for all my big decisions [looking at you, college applications]!

 It works like this. First, you have to define your options. I’ll use the high school example to illustrate this—in that case, we can call my options Private A, Private B, and Public. These will go on one axis of the grid that you’ll make. On the other axis of the grid, you’ll put the factors that you’re basing your decision on. Here my factors might resemble cost, average class size, activity availability, matriculation rate, and location, for example. You’ll also have to assign a weight to each of these factors in order to account for how important it is to you. For example, I felt that class size was very important, so I gave it a multiplier of 5. In contrast, I valued activity availability highly but not as much as class size, so I gave it a multiplier of four. Once you’ve established your options and your weighted factors, you can begin filling in the matrix grid. You’ll rank your options within each category (here we have three, so best gets a 3 while worst gets a 1). Then, you multiply through each column with the factor multipliers, sum each row, and you’ll produce numerical scores that tell you the relative value of each option according to your factors and weights. Here’s an example of what it looks like:

[I’ve put the initial ranking multiplied by the weight of the given factor in brackets ]

As you can see, the score column tells us that the option “Private B” won out in this scenario. According to my prescribed weights and defined factors (priorities), I should choose that option. Sometimes, however, completing a decision matrix gives you information even beyond the numerical in that it forces you to address your feelings about committing to a particular option. For instance, say I’ve finished the matrix, seen that Private B won, and now I feel a pit in my stomach at the possibility of having to come to terms with that choice. My brain and body are telling me that there’s something I haven’t accounted for in my matrix and that Private B probably isn’t the right option for me. That’s also a worthwhile discovery.

 Alright, I know this has been a long explanation, but I love the decision matrix. I really swear by it. It’s helped me make so many major choices in my life, and I hope that maybe it can help some of you too. Thanks, Dad!

 To get back to my initial argument, I really wanted to emphasize that quitting is okay. If you’re unhappy, if you’re no longer enjoying something, don’t do it anymore! Obviously there are some things this doesn’t apply to—when I fight with my sisters about why they steal [and post pictures wearing??] my clothes, I’m obviously not happy that they’re doing that and I’m not enjoying them at that moment. That doesn’t mean I’m going to quit being their sister. Sometimes my dad and I argue about my eternally messy room and general lack of organizational skills. Neither of us are happy in that moment—but I’m not going to quit being his daughter, and he won’t quit being my dad. All this to say, please don’t do anything crazy because I’m telling you it’s alright to cut some stuff out of your life.

 But especially for the little things, and even for the medium to large things, quitting can be good. Quitting can be one of the best decisions you can make. And while we live in a society that sometimes diminishes quitting and labels people negatively if they abandon a pursuit, who are we to think that we understand all their reasoning for doing so? Who are we to decry someone who has the sensibility and understanding of their personal wellbeing to prioritize the things that make them the happiest?

 If you’re thinking about quitting something in your life, I encourage you to think about why that is [you could even make a decision matrix!]. If it’s something that’s making you actively unhappy, consider cutting it out entirely. You only have one life, and you want to spend it doing the things you love. Don’t spend it stuck in something that you want to get out of just because of the societal stigma against quitting. If you need someone to have your back on this, you’ve got me—quitting can be healthy when practiced thoughtfully