Quitting is Just Not My Style

My brother and I had a childhood relationship much like every other sibling relationship. Three years separate us. So as kids, we were close enough to have fun together but still far enough apart to annoy the piss out of each other. My childhood memories include my brother defending me against bullies; trekking through the woods exploring uncharted territories so long as we didn't go too far out of our back yard; losing money to him for various hair brained schemes he'd come up with; and getting the wind knocked out of me during football games.

The memory of playing football with my brother and his friends stands out because he would never allow anyone else to tackle me but him. I thought this would keep me safer from harm. However, experience proved he was harder on me than the others ever would have been. Looking back, I believe that his theory was if he hit me hard enough I would just quit. On one occasion, he pummeled me so hard that I didn't just bounce back to my feet. As a matter of fact, I remember it taking a bit of time just to catch my breath. I recall him standing over me when he said, "So, I suppose your going to quit now." in a sort of reverse psychological tone. At that age, though, I didn't know what psychology was let alone the reversal of it.

In a matter of seconds, I had a decision to make. Either I could quit and go find some dolls to play with, or continue on in a realm I had no business being in. No-one would have been anything but relieved had I, the only girl, spared myself the potential of broken bones and left a crowd of teenage boys on a football field. Regardless, I heard a tone in my brother's voice that made me believe he was afraid I was going to quit. So, hell no! I wasn't going to quit. If he could play on so could I. Filled with the notion that quitting was absurd, I didn't want to be considered weak or a failure.

Despite the fact that my skills were grossly inadequate for that situation, I didn't want anyone else to know that! Especially my brother. His opinion of me mattered. I wanted his acceptance. In that moment (as well as many others after) I emulated or mirrored him. Over the years, I have found that strong male figures who I admire and love have tremendous influence over me. Unfortunately, three specific men in my adult life have wreaked a lot of damage to my heart with varying degrees of severity. What's worse is I allowed it. Each time I [metaphorically] got the wind knocked out of me, I bounced back to my feet slower and slower.

Today, as I lay on my back counting the stars circling my head, I feel tempted to stay down here. Maybe I just need to catch my breath. No one would blame me. I think some expect it and others think I should just quit already.

Here's the thing, though. That's never been my style. My brother making that inquisitorial statement, "So I suppose you're going to quit now." wasn't what inspired me to bounce back to my feet. Yes, in that moment, he truly wanted me to quit and leave him and his friends alone - and rightfully so. But, my fear kept me going - fear of failure, fear of humiliation, fear of being inadequate and rejected. When given the opportunity, that fear manifested as pride. When given the option to fight or take flight, I chose then and still do to this day to fight every time. Maybe that inclination was put there by God. Regardless, this moment with my brother was the first time it manifested.

I'm still very much afraid of all of those things (i.e. failure, inadequacy, humiliation, rejection, etc.). However, ask any competitor who the most difficult opponent is and he/she will tell you it is the one that never quits. Nelson Mandela said, "I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." So, if Aristotle said, "I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self.", then I guess I must be brave.

...now if I could just get a little help off the ground. I'm not as young and spry as I use to be.