Why I’m Proud of My Son for Quitting

Why I’m Proud of My Son for Quitting

I was relaxing in my bedroom when Easton walked in, his face a mix of discomfort and hesitation.

“I’m not feeling well,” he said quietly.

I knew what he really meant: he didn’t want to go to volleyball practice.

“You’re going,” I told him. “Get ready.”

But he lingered. He didn’t argue. He just stood there.

That’s when I knew—this wasn’t about a stomachache.
This wasn’t about being tired.
He had already made up his mind. He wanted to quit the team.

And I was upset.
Frustrated.
Disappointed, even.

Immediately, my brain filled with noise:

What will the other parents think?
What is he learning about commitment?
Will he have grit in life?
How will he ever be successful if he gives up so easily?

I grew up in a time when quitting wasn’t an option.
You finish what you start—even if it hurts.
Even if it doesn’t feel good.
Even if you’ve outgrown it.

That belief has shaped me—and sometimes haunted me.

But I also know this:

I’ve walked away from things that no longer fit.
I’ve changed my mind, even when it disappointed others.
I’ve started things and not finished them—because something more important came up, or because it no longer aligned.

The difference is, I’m an adult. I get to decide those things.
But when my 15-year-old son made a decision to honor what was right for him… I felt judgment creep in.

And that’s when I realized—this wasn’t just about his decision.
It was about mine.

Coaching Through the Emotions

In true coach fashion (yes, even coaches need support), I reached out to process what was really going on beneath the surface.

What surfaced wasn’t about Easton at all—it was about the part of me that still fears judgment. That still hears an inner voice whispering, If you don’t finish what you started, you’re weak. The part that clings to commitment for identity and safety, even when something no longer feels right.

Why He Quit (And Why It Took Strength)

Easton wasn’t quitting because he was lazy or afraid of hard things.

He’s been playing through pain for over a year—after dislocating his kneecap last season. He had surgery in early 2024 to remove loose cartilage and stabilize his patella. His recovery has been long and bumpy. Every practice still hurts.

He’s also never truly felt included on the team. He’s one of the bigger kids, slower than the others, and doesn’t have a best friend on the court. Early on, he was added to a team group chat… only to be removed by a teammate 20 minutes later.

That kind of exclusion stings. And it’s been ongoing.

I’ve seen the coach favor other players. I’ve heard similar stories from other families. I’ve watched Easton show up, do his best—and still not feel like he belongs.

And still, he kept going. Until he knew it was no longer worth it.

The Reality: This Wasn’t a Small Decision

Let me be clear—this wasn’t an easy thing to walk away from.

His club team was an 11-month commitment, with the season running through July 2025, and we had already invested over $8,000. Not to mention countless hours of driving, tournaments, and emotional energy.

That’s what made it so hard.
Not just for him—but for me.

Coaching Insight: The Sunk Cost Trap

There’s a concept I often explore with coaching clients called the sunk cost fallacy—the idea that we should continue doing something simply because we've already invested in it.

Even when it’s no longer right.
Even when we’re no longer the same person who said yes.

If I’m honest, I’ve stayed in things for far too long—relationships, roles, and responsibilities—because of what I’d already put in.

Easton’s choice reminded me of something powerful:

Walking away isn’t failure.
Sometimes, it’s growth.

Redefining Grit and Resilience

Resilience isn’t just pushing through.
It’s knowing when to pause.
When to pivot.
When to say, “This no longer serves me.”

That’s what my son did.
He honored his body. He stood up for his emotional well-being. He made a hard decision and communicated it clearly.

That’s not weakness.
That’s wisdom.

So yes—I’m proud of him.
Not just for trying.
But for knowing when trying harder isn’t the answer.

A Reflection for You

💭 Is there something in your life you’re holding onto simply because you started it?
💭 What would shift if you let yourself choose alignment over obligation?