In third grade, I signed-up for Girl Scouts. I admit that I was more attracted to the cute Brownie Uniform and the popularity of being a Scout than the whole 'character building' aspect. I didn't really care about the badges or the activities, I just wanted the uniform and to say 'I'm a Brownie' to all my friends. Shallow? Yes, but I challenge you to find a thoughtful, profound, deep thinking 8 year old- it's hard.
I wore my Brownie Uniform with pride each time we had a meeting after school- I didn't pay ATTENTION at the meetings, but that's beside the point. An entire year passed where being a Girl Scout was a big deal. And then it came time to sell cookies. I distinctly remember NOT paying attention at the meeting where parents and Scouts talked about the process of selling and delivering the Girl Scout Cookies. I figured 'how hard can it be?' and decided to give my snack plate my full, undivided attention while everyone else took notes and listened to the Scout Leader.
I remember getting my colorful cookie-selling sheet and feeling the excitement of getting to ask grownups if they'd like to buy from me. "Miss Judd, wanna buy cookies?...Mr. Grim, wanna buy cookies from me?" Although I didn't pay attention at the meeting, selling cookies came naturally for me and I filled my sheet with orders for Thin Mints, Samoas, and Tagalongs. Before long, I had no more spots to fill and I cheerfully handed my order to the Scout Master. Once the Master was in possession of my sheet, I went skipping away and silently congratulated myself on being the best Brownie ever!
Weeks passed and it came time to have our next Girl Scout meeting. I wore my uniform with pride, showed up at the meeting and then didn't pay an ounce of attention to what was being discussed. You can imagine my surprise when a parent volunteer said "Vivian, come here." I snapped out of my daydreaming and followed her. She took me to the corner of our meeting room and pointed to a Mount Everest sized stack of cardboard boxes.
"These are yours" she said.
My eyes widened. "Mine?!"
"Yeah, yours."
I gazed around the room and saw all the other girls with their mountains of boxes. Each box contained smaller containers of cookies and, as you probably know, it was our job to deliver each box to its rightful owner. Unfortunately for me, I didn't pay attention in the meeting so I didn't really know what I was supposed to do with all the cookies and I did not understand how to go about delivering them. I had dozens of boxes of Samoas, Thin Mints, and Tagalongs, and I didn't know what to do. I stared at my delivery list. Feeling overwhelmed, confused, and a little embarrassed that I didn't know what to do, I packed my boxes and headed home.
For days, I took boxes of cookies to the school and tried to figure out how to deliver them, when to deliver them, what to say, how to collect the money, and all those small details I purposefully (and pridefully) ignored at the meetings. Each day I took boxes to school to deliver and I returned home with those same containers. After about a week of this, I decided something needed to be done.
Before we go on, one thing you need to realize is that I was not the run of the mill kind of kid. Just read the blog about me trying to convince everyone that my name was 'Pepsi', and you will realize just how... um...unique I was. So, when a child has dozens of Girl Scout Cookies to deliver and they don't know what to do, most of them would say "Mom, Dad, I need help, I am confused. Can you help me?" Instead, I took a look at the stack of undelivered cookies in my room and did something very different; I panicked.
Afraid to admit that I didn't know what to do, and too prideful to ask for help, I looked at the mountain of undelivered cookies and decided right then and there to get rid of the evidence of my failure; I ate them. All of them.
It took time and serious effort to eat every single peanutbuttery Tagalong and every chewy Samoa, but I did it. I seriously do not know how I didn't gain an obscene amount of weight and end up featured on an Oprah special titled "Gluttonous Children with No Conscience".
My career as a Brownie ended as soon as I finished my last box of 'evidence'. After doing something so disgraceful, I couldn't even think about attending another Girl Scout meeting. I didn't want the parents or the Scout Master to realize what I had done. Positive that parents and fellow scouts would crucify me for all my mistakes, I decided it'd be best for me to hang up my Brownie sash and call it quits.
Throwing in the proverbial towel with Girl Scouts marked my first ever 'quitting'. I had never belonged to a group before that. I never had the responsibility of attending meetings and following certain rules prior to my year as a Brownie. Although it was my first voluntary quit of something I had originally been enthusiastic about, this quitting wasn't my last.
This morning while journaling, I sat thinking about all the activities, organizations, teams, and hobbies I have quit. I don't even like to say that word "q-u-i-t" and I never considered myself one of those whiny-baby quitters that can't finish what they started... but, I hate to admit, that I kind of am one. Or, rather, I used to be one.
In my journal, I wrote a list of things I've enthusiastically signed-up for and then abandoned or quit.
Here's my list:
Brownies
Piano (twice)
Irish Dance Lessons
Singing Lessons
College Track
Modeling
4-H
Mission Trip to India
I'm sure there's more. With each one I listed, I started to feel depressed and really disappointed in myself. What if I had stuck with these? What if I had finished what I started? I mentally slapped myself across the face for being such a whiny-baby quitter. After my initial bout of self-loathing, I started to ask myself "Why did I quit these?" It didn't take long to see that there was a pattern with each one.
After thinking about each commitment I had copped-out on, I realized that every single one of them ended when I was afraid to admit that I didn't know what to do and I was too prideful to ask for help. They all ended when I became frustrated, confused, or when it looked like I wasn't going to succeed.
Selling cookies, showing my pony at the local fair, learning to play the piano- each one required that I admit I didn't know what I was doing and I needed someone elses' help. Every time I refused to do these things, I ended up quitting. And, just like eating the cookies, I'd try to sweep the evidence of each so-called failure under the rug before others would see my shortcomings.
I quit the mission trip because I didn't know how to get a visa, I quit singing lessons because I didn't know how to hit certain notes, I quit Irish dance because I didn't know what to wear to a competition. All of these are silly reasons to abandon a commitment, and each one could have been solved if I had some humility and asked for help.
As I look a this pattern of enthusiastically starting something, panicking, and quitting, I see a trend that I would very much like to change now before I quit something else.
This past week, in Iceland, I have been frustrated with my surroundings. I have tried and tried to paint mountains and have been discouraged with the results. I am running low on canvas and the package of canvas Mom sent me three weeks ago still hasn't shown up. I have a whole long list of things here that I am either confused with or frustrated by and, knowing my history, this would be a time that quitting starts to sound really nice.
Fortunately, after looking at my long list of abandoned activities, I know that this time- right now- is a time in which I need to admit that I don't know what I am doing and to ask for help. I admit I am out of artistic inspiration here. I admit that I miss home. I admit that I don't know where or how or when I am going to get more canvas. I admit that I don't know how I am going to be able to afford living in Europe for the next four months. With each one of these statements, I begin to think of people I need to seek help from. It is with admittance and a refreshing dose of humility that I sit here in Iceland and say "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM DOING RIGHT NOW BUT QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!"
If I had done this with the Girl Scout debacle, maybe Miss Judd and Mr. Grim would have been able to enjoy their box of goodies and maybe I wouldn't have set myself up for a pattern that I continue to struggle with. Now, the burning question is, 'Do I get a badge for this?'
I can SO relate to this post!
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