The truth about quitting what I (once) loved - Part 1
Why it's so damn hard to quit things, and the beauty it brought me.
I remember it like it was yesterday - I woke up to a sunny morning in Haarlem on which we were supposed to have the quarterly meeting with our investors. I'll be honest, this was probably one of my least favorite days of the quarter, and more agonizing than my monthly moon days. While the meeting did get cancelled last minute, I knew the day's sunshine was only a brief respite from the dark clouds threatening to thunder inside myself any minute now.
One of our investors called and said he wanted to swing by our office despite the cancellation. Let me call him Jeroen. I think the humane sensitive part of him sensed that something was off with me, so I let him. After the usual pleasantries, we settled down for a cup of Frank tea. Holding a cup of my own tea brand momentarily calmed my rising nerves and somehow confirmed that whatever we had been doing for the past 6 years wasn't just a confusing dream that knew no beginning or end, but something that actually existed in the 'real' material world.
"How are you?", Jeroen innocently asked.
The truth
I immediately knew that this was the moment I had built towards. The moment I was asked to lower my walls and allow this person backstage entry to the polished business persona I'd spent years carefully crafting.
I remember lingering over his question. Taking my sweet time with a slow sip of the steaming Kenyan breakfast tea in my hand before meeting his expectant gaze. The words "I'm not well, and I can't do it anymore" slowly rolled over my dry tongue like a boulder inching its way down a steep slope, each syllable heavier than the last, until they crashed into the silence between us. Jeroen met me with a blank stare and raised eyebrows. I clarified: "Jeroen, I can't lead the company anymore, I can't push through any longer. I just can't."
The guilt
Instant relief gushed through my entire being, quickly followed by guilt, a lot of guilt dressed in shame. Guilt towards our investors, and everyone else that had believed in me, and in the mission. *
I understood why abandoning a fight is oftentimes harder than staying in it, for our body starts to associate the pain as its comfort zone. The fight is not just something we do. It becomes who we are. Choosing what we're willing to fight for, whether that's our company, our career, or our relationship is one thing; the secret lies in knowing when the fight is over and we decide to gently lay our sword to rest. Admitting when something no longer serves us, and we no longer serve it from our heart either. Understanding the delicate tension between winning and losing ourselves.
This probably was the first time in my adult life that I could no longer be who others expected me to be. And fuck me, admitting that was harder than any battle I had ever gone into, because this one required me to stop fighting. It felt like stripping away layers of armor, exposing vulnerabilities I had long buried beneath the weight of expectations. Yet, in that vulnerability, there was a strange sense of liberation, as if I had finally allowed myself to breathe freely after years of upholding perfection..
The beauty
The act of quitting will often reveal its beauty to us only in hindsight. I had to trust that the dots would connect. For me, the beauty was in the difficult but honest conversations to be had with investors, the true characters that were revealed in the process, and the beauty of seeing Jeroen step up and put the interest of the tea farmers truly ahead of his own investor agenda.
Today, with this newsletter edition, I want to celebrate the act of quitting over persevering at all costs. Celebrate the deeper journey set forth by quitting something we (once) loved. The past year has afforded me the time to feel into the beauty and unexpected gifts quitting has brought me. I've slowly been able to lay the guilt to rest within me. Softness has allowed me to look at quitting not as the end to something, but as a beginning to a new chapter of unfolding, where the journey is guided by inner truth rather than external expectations.
So here's to quitting the hell out of things this year, people!
When was the last time you quit something, and how did it feel? Let me know in the comments 🙂
Love, Valerie
ps. In Part 2 I explore the space in between things, the space of 'no longer there and not quite here' after we quit what we (once) loved, and renew our identity. Landing in your inbox in two weeks.
*the company was still in start-up stage which is generally not a great time for a founder to leave, at all. Frank about tea is now thankfully in the hands of lovely new owners and the mission continues.
This edition was inspired by the podcast Quitted and the beautiful words on one of the host’s substack
. Check out their podcast episode with 'Eat, Pray, Love' author Elizabeth Gilbert and learn how to quit like a Queen 😉If you enjoyed reading this edition, do share it with a friend, a colleague or your grandma ❤️
I quit caring so much about what others might think of me. I realized that this life is only my journey, and it's just a waste of energy to worry about the opinions of others. Most of them are just passengers. Of course I am still working on it, but so far it is the most liberating thing I have done.
Only after 2 years of doubt I decided quitting my company which I led for 15 years was the best thing to do.
I led it from almost bankrupt when I stepped in to a successful financially healthy company when I sold it.
It was the best but at the same time the most difficult decision.
The rollercoaster ended but then I loved the ride.