Trying to Not Feel Like a Quitter

Today, I quit my job…well, one of my jobs.

Just over 10 days ago I was sitting in my bed late at night thinking about money. How much I would be making each month. How much was necessary to pay my bills. And what amount of money I would have left over to spend on everything else that would come my way. At that moment in time I decided to apply as a barista at Starbucks.

3am idea. Seems like a great one…Right??

I had an interview a couple of days later and got the job on the spot. 1 orientation and 2 early morning shifts later and I’ve already quit.

But I’m trying not to view myself as a quitter — Generally when I commit to something I have already spent plenty of time thinking about all parts of the situation very thoroughly. Once I make the final commitment I will follow through 110% until the task is complete or the time has come that it no longer applies for me to work towards that particular goal. This time around things were different. Very different. As soon as I had made the decision, I questioned whether I made the correct one. I was going to be working 4:30am shifts prior to going to dance from 10am-2pm and then heading to work my evening jobs teaching ballet or in the bakery at Lunds. These were going to be very long days where I would be on my feet the entire time…

So last night when I was falling asleep in the shower at the early time of 7:30pm, I decided to pray. I asked The Lord to please give me a sign to answer the question looming over my head: whether or not I had made the right decision. I had been going back and forth between the main positive: money, and the main negative: pure exhaustion and just could not make up my mind.

Our God works in miraculous ways and answers our prayers exactly when we are ready to listen.

This morning I was supposed to be up at 3:35am to get ready for work. I woke up at 1:30am instead with sharp pains on the top of my foot (what I call ‘stress fracture pains’ and have dealt with before) and knew that was my answer. The Lord had answered my prayers. I would not be going into work this morning and I would not be continuing with this job.

I proceeded to sit in my bed for a little while and think about everything a little deeper. I came across a post from a friend of mine that was exactly what I needed to read ( She made some fabulous points in there about ‘saying yes’ to, and making time for the positive things in life that fill you up. Make you a person. Help you feel whole in this crazy world. If I were to continue this job I would not have time to ‘say yes.’ I would not have time to see my friends. I would barely have time to sleep, recuperate after long days or prepare the foods that help me stay healthy and strong. All of these things are very important in one’s life. I have been through my own personal dark/low times in the past but I know that I am currently at a very happy, healthy and stable point in my life. I want to hold on to that feeling for as long as I can. I have awesome friends and awesome jobs. I like having the time that I do have to do the things that I want to do. I want to have fun. I want to live my life. And I want to stay happy!

I did not quit. I simply did what was most beneficial for me at this moment in my life. I am not a quitter. I am a thinker. I am putting my self, my body and my happiness first. And for that I will be forever grateful when I look back on this time in my life.


“The morning after I killed myself”

I came across this on Facebook tonight and really want to share it with my blogosphere*. This is such an important read for anybody and everybody out there. Suicide is not something to joke about, ever, and it is not something that can be undone. You may think you’re making a better choice for yourself at that moment in time, but imagine the hundreds of people you’re ultimately affecting when you take your own life. More people than most realize have thoughts about suicide or have depression and it is one of those things that no one ever wants to talk about. 

Always remember: You matter. You are loved. You have purpose on this Earth. 

Below is the original post:


The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.
I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.                                    

The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.

The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog. I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading. I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.
The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.
The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I told her about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents. I told her about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.

The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started. 
By Meggie Royer

*this is not posted to say that I feel this way right now. This is just a topic that I wish people were more comfortable discussing out in the open. Depression affects so many of us and a lot of people are afraid to get help because of our society’s negative views towards it.