Quitting often gets a bad rap. We usually associate greatness with grit, stick-to-it-iveness, persistence. And of course, grit can be useful. But we often overlook the importance of knowing when and how to shift gears and steer towards a new path.
Public thinker and former professional poker player Annie Duke talks about how we need to associate quitting with greatness more often, and that we should also quit more often. I heard Duke in her interview with Dr. Maya Shankar on A Slight Change of Plans, and her latest book is Quit: The Power of Knowing When to Walk Away.
Duke points to her successes in poker to highlight the importance of quitting. In many ways, poker is about knowing when to fold. How to assess a situation as best you can, and decide amidst uncertainty. But due to our cultural bias against quitting, we often assume it is a form of cowardice, or even failure. Our cultural narrative upholds people who persevere as heroes, often beyond mental wellbeing.
Duke’s other example is climbing Mount Everest (aka Chomolungma, as Tibetans call it, or the Nepali, Sagarmatha). She tells about Rob Hall, a New Zealand mountaineer, who died in 1996 along with a fellow guide and two clients as they were ascending the summit. Duke talks about how climbers will set “turn-around times” – the team agrees in advance that proceeding beyond an agreed-upon point, beyond a certain time, will be too risky, and if they don’t reach it by that set time they will turn around. According to Duke, Hall and other members of the team broke the set turn-around time, which resulted in tragedy.
Why would Hall and others persist, despite the turn-around time? Duke cites the strength of those forces that propel us to continue, even in the face of sensibility. You can listen to the podcast here for more scoop on this story.
To be clear, quitting doesn’t mean giving up.
It just means giving up the direction in which you have been moving up to that point. Quitting can free us to pursue other options that were previously limited – if you don’t climb a mountain, you can take a cooking class, go to the beach, hang out with your family!
So, why don’t we quit more often?
Duke cites a couple of reasons:
Regret is a strong deterrent – even the thought of potential, future regret. We might think “But I’ve come this far! I’ve worked so hard! What if I regret it?” Our investments, and even our identity, might be wrapped up with that path. But continuing to stay on the same path is also a kind of “decision.” I’ve certainly heard more than one person say, after deciding to quit something they were miserable with, “I just wish I’d done it sooner…
Grit or persistence can get bound up with our sense of competence – that our past decisions were good ones, therefore we must continue to pursue this path. However, Duke insists that we often make perfectly fine decisions, based on thoughtful, sound information. But as time passes, contexts change, or we ourselves change in what we want or need. It is absolutely OK to change course.
Here’s another example.
Artist and YouTuber Louise Stigell shared why she planned to quit Instagram through this video. She discussed how using IG:
Made her feel bad. She didn’t like the app itself – it wasn’t pleasurable to use, but she also felt manipulated, overwhelmed, and scattered by the experience. I quote: “I feel shitty when I’m on Instagram.”
Didn’t help her grow her art business. The “thankless time sucking grind” of developing strategy and regularly posting had not resulted in any substantial growth in her audience or buyers. She found that she was twisting herself and her work to try to please the IG algorithm, which didn’t result in business growth.
Made her feel she had to conform, and move away from art-making, which is the purpose of her work. IG prefers short-form, “eye-ball-grabbing” content as a game. If you’re not willing to perform by those rules, you are not going to have a chance compared to folks who play the IG game.
Instagram was working for Stigell for a while – as a visual artist, it made sense to use IG as a visually-oriented platform to connect with audiences. This was initially a sound decision.
But it became apparent that the cost of using IG was too much – bad feelings of manipulation and overwhelm, plus lost time, and few business gains. So, she decided to quit, and pursue other avenues, including YouTube which provides more of what she is looking for. Her decision to quit was based on her feelings (wanting to feel good), and also the practicalities of running a business (no significant gain from the effort made).
In thinking about quitting, I’m heartened by Duke’s suggestion about the power of the word unless – I will do “X”, unless… Almost like your own, personal “turn-around time.” I will climb this mountain, unless the weather turns bad. I will use this social media app, unless it becomes a burden (e.g. makes me feel terrible, and doesn’t grow my business). I will pursue this career path, unless I cannot find lucrative work in a particular timeframe.
In decision-making I am reminded of something a yoga mentor shared with me:
Do what keeps you soft.
Does this thing I am pursuing move me in a way that feels good? Is this path making me become emotionally hard, or fixed to the point of rigidity? Or is this path hard because it’s not viable, and I can’t afford rent, or I have to choose between vegetables and transit? We all have material needs, and this is part of what can “keep us soft” (meaning, live a sustainable life).
Do what keeps you soft. It’s OK to quit.
I loooove the phrase "do what keeps you soft." Amazing!
Yes -- I don't even like the term "quit." I first learned this lesson while teaching in Uruguay at age 23. I'd committed to the full year, but there were a host of unforeseen factors that quickly pushed me past my breaking point. A smarter me, now, would have walked away as soon as the bait and switch was apparent. But I was raised to finish what I started, and it cost me something then. I left at the seven month mark and do not regret it.
In the context of relationships, phrases like "quitting" or "giving up" are even less meaningful. No need to bloody yourself repeatedly against a wall that can't be moved. At the risk of growing windy on the subject, this is an interesting debate among contestants on the show "Alone." Is it nobler to voluntarily walk off the set under one's own strength? Or can you only know that you gave your all by holding out until the medical team pulls you so your kidneys don't fail? I hear you making a case for the former.