It took me the better part of a decade to break up with violin. I’m stubborn, you see. It was kind of like a bad relationship. An abusive one. Where 99% of the time, things were miserable. I hated it. I never practised. I never got better. I derived no joy from it. But that golden 1%, those moments when the music flowed, when the strings were nearly at one with my fingers, when the bow glided across them, rather than being dragged screeching – those were euphoric, and hard to give up.
There are friendships and quasi-friendships that have slid, and that’s okay too. All relationships ebb and flow; the kind of bond you may have had in primary school or high school may not be appropriate 10 years later on in life. And not all relationships are 50/50, but I’m trying to do better at upholding my end of the stick.
I couldn’t have asked for a better job after graduation – it was my dream. Stability, prestige, fabulous coworkers. But the hours… Eventually the balance tipped, and I don’t think I was fully aware of that until after the fact.
I’ll admit, I’ve never been very good at knowing when to quit. Deep inside, throwing in the towel equates to giving up = failure.
Calling it quits. You any good at it?