on giving up

I keep my word, I finish everything I begin, and I exalt this sense of responsibility as a virtue. Quitting was never an option for anything. "Gisudlan nimo, dapat, imong humanon!" was what I’d always tell myself.

But recently, I’ve realized that there are higher virtues than commitment.

***
I am currently on my 8 months of being a trainer. It was a very sensational promotion considering that I was an agent who snatched the position from 3 other managers who applied. When the position was given to me, I figured I should take it as a sign that this was perhaps something I was meant for.

Certainly the past months were anything but easy, but I survived somehow. Some of the horror stories I believed about the job are true; as true as some are overrated perhaps, but true nonetheless. They’re harrowing, but they’re never enough to disenchant you, really: In truth, the workload is manageable, and the boss more often than not give us what we deserve. Workplace politics plateau eventually, as it does elsewhere. At some point, you learn who to trust and what to believe. Eventually, things stabilize.

And things have in fact stabilized for me. But this stability, I fear, has brought me everything but happy thoughts and cotton candy. With the turbulence of the first months jitters now over, with my niche in tact and a measure of security somewhat in store, I find myself least amused and most tired than I’ve ever been. I’ve started dreading going to work every day, and often end up wanting not to go all. Each task I do I pray to be the last.

But I don’t really want to stick to around to find out for how long. Not this time, anyway.
If I were me 8 months back, I would probably try to slap some sense into me, or sleep this ennui off: I’m a couple of years shy of a more stable future; a couple of years years shy of being able to know enough to change the world in my own little way, as the cliché goes; and a couple of years shy of earning the respect of my parents who thought I couldn’t do any better.

But 8 months in this job have changed me. I cannot now, for the life of me, see what lies beyond those long, 8 months.

And I don’t want to remain unhappy. I am not happy where I am at right now, and I will not waste more months trying to convince myself that I am. Years from now, I will be years older, and by then, I would have thrown more of my early twenties to the throes of mediocrity.

***
Aristotle said that happiness is the end most sought for. And indeed it is. Of course Aristotle probably referred to that happiness beyond the measly glee brought about by novelty or youth, or the fleeting gladness in temporality. But philosophical abstractions notwithstanding, things are often simpler than they seem: When you don’t think you’re happy, you probably aren’t.

And if there’s anything I’m certain of right now, it’s that I know that I’m not.

And this is why, for once, I will give up. That much I owe to myself. And when I do, I will never be prouder because despite appearances, quitting will be by far the bravest thing I would have ever done.

And so, dear job, allow me to wind up and get things done, before I bid you adieu to see the world.