I like to think I peaked at four years old. Just hear me out. 

It’s a great age to be. You don’t feel especially bound to social norms or expectations. You know there’s a lot more ahead of you, maybe you’ve even “gained consciousness” already. If you’re like me, you were probably more concerned with your latest work of abstract spaghetti art than any sort of internal self-reflection. 

Though I was definitely one of those kids who was born with the attitude of a thirty-five-year-old accountant, “no” was still my favorite word. I’d use my one toddler brain cell to make myself a Nutella and apple sandwich — and abandon it after one bite. I’d beg and beg to play outside, get a good fifteen minutes in, then take a nap on the ground. I wrote my college essay on how I often broke out of German high chairs specially designed to lock me down and unbuckled myself from various strollers over the years. Point is, you couldn’t tell me shit. Sorry, mom. 

Of course, we all need to grow out of that stage and on to better things. But I'm learning something interesting from my inner child: how to be a good quitter. 

“Sticking with the plan, even when it no longer serves you, could be an attempt to correct cognitive dissonance: the mental disconnect between paying for something and not getting the expected return on investment. It could also be a knee-jerk reaction to regret. Or… it could be an attempt to convince others, and ourselves, that we’re not wasteful.”

For a quick refresher, sunk cost fallacy is an economic concept that occurs when someone continues a behavior as a result of previously invested resources. In human terms, it’s the clothes in your closet you never wear but won’t get rid of; the friends you keep around just because they’re there. You can’t quit now — you’ve already come this far, and hell, you’re not going to be called a quitter, are you? 

But I’d like to pose that this idea extends more deeply in our lives when it comes to social pressure. It’s every time you followed a dumb fashion trend; went through with some stupid dare because everyone was staring at you; jumped off all those metaphorical cliffs your parents warned you about. It’s when you go through life on autopilot but then, somewhere around age 30 or so, you finally start asking why the hell you’re doing any of this in the first place. 

Isn’t it wild how fast we get caught up in the mess of it all? How quickly we forget how to say no? 

Though I’m not immune to this, I consider myself lucky. I never particularly had the chance to “blend in” or have many long-term friendships, as my family moved every two years on average. I could put my all into something like soccer or choir, or make the best friend of my life, and it would all disappear the next time I moved. I didn’t have many “sunken costs" — or at least, I had no control on when I lost them.  

So even though moving throughout my childhood had a lot of negative impacts, it meant I could see past a sunken cost or a bandwagon and focus on my own internal wants and needs instead. It set me free to start over. If I didn’t like my friends, I made new ones. I dyed my hair blue, then purple, then green, and when I was tired of the colors, I dyed it black again. I spent 18 years planning to attend an Ivy League college, then pivoted last-minute to a state school. And when I got there, I changed my major (and my life goals) from political PR to creative advertising when I learned that it was a career that existed. 

Had I based my life on all these “shoulds” — I started in PR, I should stay there! I should pay $70,000 a year for college, that’s what I’ve been working for! — I'd never get the time to consider what I actually wanted to do. My “shoulds” would have more weight in my personal life than any of my actual feelings or desires. And that’s just no way to live unless you’d really like a mid-life crisis. 
 

Inspired by my inner child, I’d like to ask you a favor: quit something today. If you won’t do it for yourself then do it for me. Spend time with yourself, and think of all the things you do or say in a day. Is this serving you? Does it spark joy? Do you feel like a better person because of it? Ask yourself: why do I do this? Why do I hold onto this thing? 

As a recent example, I quit forcing myself to take an hour lunch break at a socially acceptable lunch time. I only did this because “that’s when you eat lunch, that’s how it’s always done everywhere else.” I was breaking my morning work flow for no reason when I wasn’t actually hungry. Now, I’ve got a better sense of when I actually need a break (1 PM and 4:30 PM nearly on the dot), and I can let myself focus when I need it most. 

I also stopped posting as often on social media platforms. Okay, to be honest, I never really started. I’m not one for arguing in comments or creating elaborate memes. But I actively chose to be a lurker instead of a creator. I stopped basing my personality on oversharing with strangers or the shows I was using to escape my life. In turn, I was able to actively create a better offline life — and bring a healthy distance to my online one. 

From my point of view (which you should take with a grain of salt), the best way to avoid basing your life around sunken costs is to center your self-image on… yourself. Not the person everyone else thinks you are. Not on the person you’ve been performing as for years. But the you that’s reading this sentence, however you are right now. Self-image doesn’t need to come from anyone else. I validate myself. I choose the things that bring me joy. And whatever holds me back from feeling comfortable in my own skin — well, I’ll quit it. Sometimes being yourself means burning down the person you used to be. 

But this is the crucial part: being a quitter doesn’t mean avoiding anything that sucks in the moment. It means seeking your own personal reasons and creating a life you enjoy, not basing all your actions on vague social expectations. For example, you can’t convince yourself to work out because that’s what you should do. We’d all be Olympians if that worked. Instead, you have to find your reason: it makes you feel strong; it makes you feel more capable; you want to take your mind off of work for an hour. Whatever works, as long as it’s yours. 

My goal as a “good quitter” is to achieve a life with no guilty pleasures. No hidden desires. No quiet resentment. No “I shouldn’t want this” or “It’s weird of me to ask for this.” No “that’s cringe,” no “that’s too weird” or “people shouldn’t say that.” Not when it comes to the things you do and want for yourself.  

Because if there’s one thing that seems to always be true, it’s that if you let things fester and don’t speak up when you need to, it will all come to light eventually — usually, at a worse time. So please believe me when I tell you I mean this with love and positivity: you’re not guaranteed tomorrow. Quit today. 

Knowing when to leave and start over is a superpower.

The Quitter's Guide to Boundaries

Regular

Earlier this year, I celebrated 25 years of living on this planet, and it made me feel homesick. Probably because I remember the good days when my mom was the one planning my parties for me (shout out to Chuck E. Cheese). So to pay homage to the land I was birthed on, to get the nostalgic fix I need, and because we’re a week away from Halloween—here’s a Hoodoo playlist (curated by the Haus of Hoodoo in New Orleans) to make you feel like you’re on the second story of your very own haunted cottage in the Quarter, people-watching from the balcony. From my ears to yours:

Hoodoo /ˈho͞oˌdo͞o/: a set of spiritual practices, traditions, and beliefs created by enslaved Africans in North America that were held in secret from slaveholders. Hoodoo evolved from various traditional African religions and practices, and in the American South, incorporated various elements of indigenous botanical knowledge.

Here's a playlist curated by the Haus of Hoodoo with some certified bangers.

Homesick with Hoodoo