On Quitting
The truth is, finishing can be the easier path.
When I was 19 I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder.
My spleen was attacking my platelets.
Without medical intervention, I would have eventually just bled to death. Some thin vessel, somewhere in my body would have burst and my body would not have responded with a blood clot.
I didn’t consider that my body was trying to tell me something. I didn’t yet understand that our bodies know.
Instead, I fought like hell to keep going. I only napped when the fatigue won, and I felt like I had lost.
I had three surgeries in less than a year. I was on crutches for 3 months. My only thought was training to get back on the soccer field, and passing my classes so I could keep playing soccer.
I remember friends talking about leaving school, and some actually leaving. It was like they were speaking Martian.
I can’t say I regret it. I’m proud that I graduated and I cherish every minute I spent on the soccer field.
But I do feel so much tenderness for that tired body that couldn’t keep up, that did not want to keep up.
And I can’t help but wonder what she would have done, if I had been able to listen.
