quitting is winning

When school started at the first of September, I knew right away that the eight months to follow would be rough on me. I’ve known since practice teaching last year that it simply wasn’t my passion, but figured I could use my teaching degree and the skills that come along with it to do something related [potentially guidance, school psychology, or early intervention]. All of these, obviously, require more schooling, but I just needed to get through the BEd, teach a few years while Joey did his Masters/PhD, and then figure out what my next steps would look like.

After the first two weeks of classes, I honestly didn’t know how much more I could take. I know, everyone hates classes and especially everyone in our program felt that the second year of the two-year program was a bit pointless. But most people can suffer through those bits of school that they can’t stand, knowing that in a few more months/years they will be finished and doing something they really love and find fulfillment in. Not I. I was going to class day after day, knowing that even at the end of the two-year tunnel I would be doing something I didn’t enjoy.

I sucked it up for awhile, knowing that a teacher’s salary would be super helpful to our family once Joey was back in school. All the while, a continuous weight was on my shoulders. I’ve dealt with chronic depression since the age of sixteen, usually keeping it under control and out of my daily life, but now it was creeping back in and I didn’t know what to do about it. I had never in my academic career failed a course or dropped out of a program, and didn’t want to disappoint my family and friends by quitting.

Then I woke up. I realized I couldn’t live my life worried about disappointing anyone else, especially if it sacrificed my own happiness and well-being.

After talking on the phone with my mother almost two weeks ago, I knew my mind was mostly made up. I had been debating with myself, going back and forth over the same arguments for weeks. This time, I had to argue one side, not both. I had to tell her why I knew this was the right decision for me, for my happiness, for my well-being. It wasn't until well after I hung up that I realized I truly had been fighting my cause. Not an option, but what would really be best for me in the long run.

I had no idea where this huge change in direction would take me, or even what my first steps off the path would need to be, but I knew that, in my case, to quit was to win.