Quitter

This is usually where I quit. Give up. Stop. Make excuses in my head and to others as to why I have stopped blogging. Or writing. Or working out. Or eating better. Or limiting my Facebook or email or eBay or random scrolling time. Or going to yoga. Or meditating every day. Or walking every morning. Or letting go of the shoulds and the maybe ifs and the if onlys and the whens…

This is where I quit.

I have quit a lot of things.

  • Two marriages. 
  • A few business ideas (so long, FavorSaver, The Mommy Lane, The Mindful Studio)
  • Several blogs (vinegar and vanilla still hangs on…but Simple Yogini, One Small Thing and like riding a bike…while texting – all dead in the water. or ether. whatev.) 
  • Many, many retail jobs (Palapas, Mixit in JC Penney’s, Fleet Feet, the exercise wear place in the Stonestown Mall, the clothing store in the mall in Tucson, the clothing store in the mall in San Mateo) 
  • restaurant jobs: Shadowbrook, Birk’s, Los Gatos Cafe, Milano’s in Worcester, Massachusetts (after working there I understood and appreciated Denis Leary), The Sturbridge Bistro, the mexican place at the Ventana Resort in Tucson where I was the tequila shooter girl, some other restaurant in Tucson.
  • healthcare jobs – clinic manager at the Santa Cruz Women’s Health Center (the worst work experience I have ever had and the beginning of my professional self-doubt), counselor at an abortion clinic in Springfield, MA, office assistant and intake counselor at a family planning clinic also in Springfield. 
  • jobs in the education field – International Professional Programs assistant at UCSC Extension in Santa Clara, high school English teacher, Student Athlete Success graduate intern at the University of Hartford, Intro to Sports Psych instructor at Holyoke Community College, Marketing and Outreach coordinator at DeAnza College (after 9/11 this new mom decided she didn’t want to be so far away from her baby).
  • Admin and misc jobs – secretarial jobs through a temp agency – which led to a full-time job with a berry producer and broker, program manager at P3M (an up and coming marketing agency during the bubble. Technically they laid me off – right after I came back from maternity leave), program manager at McDill and SMG (small boutique marketing and PR shops), freelance writer for local papers and small circulation national magazines, press releases, grants, web copy, business plan writing for a variety of small businesses and non-profits. Published poet. Personal Trainer. Coach. Summer sports camp counselor.
  • Many workout plans – my great track comeback 2 years after I was done at SFSU – I trained with the famed Remy Korchemy for a few short weeks. He was busted for giving his athletes performance enhancing drugs many years later. He told me I could easily run under 13 in the hurdles. I had a mini-breakdown and quit training with him. My great master’s track comebacks – how many times have I said I was going to drop 10, 20, 30 pounds and take on the other 30 year olds, 40 year olds, 45 year olds…?
  • Bodybuilding. ‘Nuff said. 
  • Novelist (I have over 100 pages done of one novel and the first chapter of at least 3 more…) Short story writer. Memoirist. 
I quit shit. I admit it. 
I have good ideas, good intentions and crave success, acknowledgement, accolades. But as soon as the initial adrenaline high of the good idea wears off, I struggle. I am overcome with self-doubt. I have been told that I quit when it becomes tough. When the real work starts. Maybe this is true. 
As far as this blog goes, last week I began to feel like this introspection was just yet another replay of my habitual “hey this is a great idea!” routine. It felt self-indulgent. Like, Really, Jessica, who gives a shit about your stupid body issues? Or that you don’t know what your passion in life is or what you should be when you grow up? We have heard this before. It’s old. We are tired of hearing it. 

The reality is – I am tired of hearing it. I am tired of thinking too much about my first world problems. Acceptance, surrender, resignation — what’s the difference? It’s a fine, fine, line…
Reflectively, 
Jessica


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