You know, in the third act small talk drops out of the play

After long, hard, arduous thought, I have more or less decided to quit my internship, I think. Maybe.

It's really hard for me to quit things. Back when I wanted to drop French class (an unnecessary credit that could've potentially brought down my GPA and was taking up way too much of my time with its work), before I did, I talked to my advisor and my parents, made a pro/con list, and investigated what ramifications it would have on my records, then and in the future. And after all that, I still felt guilty when I did it.

Being a quitter, like being a poopyhead, is the kind of insulting charge people tend to not use once they get past primary school. Upon entering 6th grade, if you abandon something for the wrong reasons, you may be berated for your inconsistency or lack of commitment, but quitting itself isn't the focus of blame anymore. We realize that in some circumstances, cutting and running is really the best thing we could possibly do. That kind of context-depending thinking doesn't happen pre-middle school, because at those ages we can't tell the difference between what we want and what is best. If you told us at the age of six or ten that quitting was sometimes okay, no one would ever, ever become a pianist. So until we hit puberty, quitting is just lame, no matter the reason.

Part of what makes me a good student, I think, is that I wholeheartedly buy into most of the educational propaganda I was fed as a child. You should consider every new situation an opportunity to learn. Completing class assignments and achieving good grades will make you smart and successful. Drugs are bad. And of course, that sucker instinct has only benefited me, even if it has cost me a few "Nerd!"s and some over-achievey effort. The unbelievable amount of time, effort, and emotional turmoil I go through when I want to quit anything, though, has proven to me that I also indefinitely bought into Quitters are losers!, which is about as useful as still being convinced that monsters are in the closet.

Even if I have every reason to drop my internship like a bad habit (or just one or two really good reasons: I've learned about as much as I'm going to, which means that the benefits of me being there have dropped almost to zero while the cost of me being there is still huge), there's a sizable part of me that argues back under the illogical banner of "Linda, don't be a quitter." It disrupts my concept of myself to admit that I will allow mere trifles like "not hemorrhaging money," "being near my family," and "wanting to spend my time in a way that will benefit me" to get in the way of my belief that I should stick with what I signed up for.

But as for any disordered behavior, the first step is acceptance.

My name is Linda, and I'm a quitter.