“I can’t just leave. I’ve put way too much time into this.” I can’t count how many times I’ve heard these exact words coming from a wide-eyed girl as she fiddles with her fork across the table from me. I, myself, have uttered these phrases through hiccuping sobs. It is natural for us as human beings to latch on to something that we have put so much of ourselves into, but that doesn’t mean it is right.
When I was eight I sat sprawled out on my floor with a blank piece of paper and spent hours and hours writing out my plan to run away. I had watched a movie where the main character, a kid my age, had packed a bag full of tuna sandwiches and blankets and disappeared into the night. The idea of it all had spiked my curiosity and being that I was eight and had no sense of reality and fiction I was more than willing to follow the lead of a fictional character. After I outlined everywhere I would go after my escape (i.e the movie theater down the street, my best friends house, and DisneyLand), I grabbed my book bag and emptied it of my folders, books, and crayons. I flew around my room in my ruffled dress and tennis shoes grabbing everything and anything I could fit in my bag. After about five minutes of tirelessly darting between my bed and my closet I had a bag filled with a blanket, my stuffed animal named Snowy, a half eaten chocolate bar, a plastic sword, and a pair of socks. I was set. I gathered up my papers and snuck downstairs. There I stood, on my porch, with a crinkled up paper stuffed in my fist, a backpack filled with junk, and a dress that was already starting to feel far too itchy. So, you know what I did? I turned my butt around, stomped upstairs, and ripped up the paper and flopped in my bed.
It may seem like that was a silly story, but there is a lesson in there. When I was a kid I spent all day working hard to plan this amazing adventure, however, when I realized it was a mistake I forgot all about the time I spent and retreated back inside. Just because I spent a lot of time on the mistake didn’t mean I had to follow through with it. I knew that when I was eight, so why is it so hard for me to know that know?
I realize that the girl with huge eyes, and fidgety fingers that sat across the table from me had a much harder thing to give up on than I did when I was eight, but the idea is the same. It is hard to leave something that we feel we have put so much of ourselves into, but that doesn’t make it any less of a mistake. So, next time you find yourself standing on your porch, tears streaking your cheeks, with a mistake standing right in front of you, know it is okay to march upstairs and flop in your bed. Know it is okay to walk away, even if you put time into it. Know it is still a mistake.
