Being a quitter is not how I would describe myself.

I’m driven. I’m strong. I’m resilient. I’m not a quitter. But it turns out that quitting brought me joy. So maybe it’s time to rethink being a quitter.

I love to swim. For years I swam ferociously, in pursuit of the heart pounding, distance-accomplishing, racking up of laps. But I was full of envy toward those in fast lane who effortlessly changed direction in one graceful flowing movement.

I’ve tried on and off to master the flip turn myself, but I usually missed the wall “T.” Instead, I’d end up in some kind of barrel spin, surprising people in the next lane as I popped up unexpectedly. Then I’d fume to myself about how I could be much faster if I could do that damn turn.

My kids tried many times to teach me, but no matter how many times I mimicked their technique, I just never get the knack. So I quit.

But I didn’t just quit trying to flip turn. And I definitely didn’t quit comparing my times and my ‘turns’ against those more proficient. I quit swimming all together. Then I doubled down on running instead.

Why is it that everything we don’t resolve always comes back around?

It wasn’t long before arthritis in my knee forced me to give up running. I was looking for other ways to exercise that I could enjoy as much. “Have you thought about swimming?” my doctor asked.

I was actually glad to ‘have’ to get back in the water and I vowed to approach one of the instructors for help learning the flip turn. But…I didn’t.  I went to the pool, I swam, and I stopped briefly at the wall every time I reversed direction.

Fear, doubt and guilt kept me in my lane. My brain was churning over not being as brave, committed, or athletic as everyone else in the pool. How could I still not do a flip turn?!

It was my daughter Emily who taught me a better way of thinking. Seeing her learn to swim, after nearly two decades of trying, brings as much joy to me as it does to Emily. The buoyancy lets her be free for a little while from some of the limitations of her physical handicap. And pure positive energy radiates from her.

So this is the part where I should say I took a page from Emily’s book and set out to master the flip turn. That after years of ‘failure,’ with the right teacher and the power of my own positivity I learned how to do a flip turn. Or that I finally ignored the other swimmers, forgot that anyone might be watching me, and learned how to do a flip turn on my own.

 I did set out to be more like Emily, as I often find myself doing. But that lead me somewhere unexpected.

I quit. Again. I gave up on swimming.

Emily exudes joy when she swims, and as I watched my daughter, fully living in Heart, I wanted her same wild joy for myself. But I knew I wasn’t going to find that in the pool. For me, the lap lane had been too closely linked to competition and comparison for far too long.

To find my joy, I had to get out of the water.

Once I did, I discovered my joy didn’t come from the cardio pump I obsessed over when I swam. Or ran. Instead it comes from taking long walks with my dog. No competition and no comparisons.

Thanks to Emily, I’ve traded a heart-conditioning workout for an open-hearted walkabout. Being a quitter has made all the difference and brings me continuous joy.

What might you quit to find your joy? Let me know in the comment section below.

Heartfelt wishes,
Amy

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