What Quitting Has Really Taught Me

I’ve stepped away from different things over the years — jobs, routines, even hobbies I once thought I’d stay dedicated to. Leaving isn’t unfamiliar to me, but I’ve noticed that endings, even gentle ones, tend to stay with you for a while. Not in a regretful way — more in an “I’m paying attention to myself” way.

Recently, I decided to take a break from a community choir I’d been part of for a long time. I joined well before grief entered my life in such a profound way, and for years, those Sunday afternoons felt grounding and fun. But eventually my needs shifted. My energy shifted. My Sundays shifted. The commitment no longer fit the season I was in.

There was nothing dramatic about it. I just recognized I needed more space — and honored that. Shortly thereafter, a friend ended our friendship — not by my choice — and those two endings, close together, made me pay more attention to how quickly life can shift and how important it is to respond honestly when it does.

And truthfully, quitting isn’t the only kind of ending I’ve lived through. In the months following the loss of my sister, I learned something I never expected: people quit us, too. Not always intentionally — sometimes through silence, distance, or simply not knowing how to show up. People I thought would be by my side weren’t. People I never imagined would step in… did. And through all of that, dear friends — the ones who really know me — remained steady and true.

Those shifts taught me something I didn’t see clearly before: endings, whether chosen or not, reveal things. They show you who can hold you through change and who quietly moves to the sidelines. Both matter. Both teach. Both help you understand what (and who) fits your life now.

Here’s what I’ve learned: Quitting isn’t a flaw. It’s clarity. It’s alignment. It’s choosing what fits now.

Leaving the choir didn’t erase the good it brought into my life. It didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate it. It simply meant that the version of me today needs something different than the version of me back then. Our needs evolve. Our capacity shifts. What works in one season doesn’t always work in the next.

And the same is true with people. Some drift away. Some step forward. Some stay right where they’ve always been. None of it diminishes the value of what once was — it simply reflects what is true now.

Quitting doesn’t close the door forever, either. You can walk away from something and return to it differently someday — or not at all. Both are allowed. Both are valid. And when people walk away from you, it doesn’t mean you’re unworthy of support — it means your circle is reshaping itself to reflect the season you’re in.

Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do is acknowledge that a chapter has run its course — without guilt, without overthinking, without turning it into a story about our worth. Quitting isn’t giving up. It’s choosing what fits your life right now. And sometimes, it’s accepting who chooses to stay — and who doesn’t.

 And who knows… maybe I’ll join the choir again someday. Life tends to circle back to the things we love.