Should I Stay or Should I Go (Now)?
When I was a senior in high school, I had a humanities teacher named Mr. Holden. We walked into one of our first days of class to the sound of “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” by The Clash. We spent the next several class periods talking about the implications of this song title. At the time, I remember thinking that Mr. Holden was a pot-smoking bohemian (true story) and that his teachings were, for the most part, to be discarded.
Here I am twenty-five years later, thinking he might have had it right all along.
So much time in my life has been dedicated to that question:
Should I stay or should I go?
Should I remain in a relationship or exit it?
Should I be involved in someone else’s story or should I butt out?
Should I work hard to restore a friendship or should I allow it to deteriorate?
Should I cling to life or should I release it?
When do we carry on and when do we cut bait?
When do we persist and when do we quit?
When do we show up and when do we shut down?
When do we hold out hope and when do we give up?
When do we stay the course and when do we pivot?
A number of years ago, when we first moved to Denver, I was hellbent on teaching the kids about growing things. We went to Home Depot in search of mint and rosemary and leaf lettuce. I have no idea what we paid for that day – couldn’t venture a guess – but I firmly remember what we got for free. I spotted an offset table of ragamuffin toss-aways, brown-leaved, shriveled-up little duds that had lost their place among the shiny and, most importantly, living plants on regular display. I promptly hunted down a Home Depot employee and implored him to allow me to give these buddies a second chance. He explained that that was technically breaking the rules, but, with a wry smile, he said, “But I’m sure one wouldn’t hurt.” I gave the sad set of dehydrated runts a one-over and ended up swiping a blackberry plant.
This past summer, eight-ish years later, there must have been a hundred blackberries on that thing.
The story would be better if I worked endlessly to bring the little guy back to life, if I’d fertilized and trimmed and watered and nurtured to give it a second chance.
The fact of the matter is: all I did is plop it in the dirt in our back yard, and I haven’t touched it since. Now it thrives. All I really did was rescue it from the garbage can. And that was enough of a second chance for that blackberry plant.
But, I think we all can attest, not all endeavors to restore or save or push forward are nearly as effortless. Often, it requires ruthless determination to push forward in something, to stay when it would be easier to go. To press through the dips and valleys until you get to the rewarding place you were hoping to go.
And – wanna hear the shit of it? – sometimes we’re actually not meant to stay. Have you ever found yourself in a scenario where staying, pushing through, was the unhealthy, unhelpful, unproductive thing to do?
Enters my Africa story. I’ll sum it up fast. After a couple years of on-again-off-again dating Scott in my early twenties, the two of us were on the break of all breaks; it was over. Around that time, I applied to and was accepted into the Peace Corps. I spent the better part of the next year readying my life and my vaccinations and my heart for the two years away serving in the country of Namibia. Weeks before my October departure, Scott reentered the scene. Determined to not give up on my dream, I boarded that plane out of the US, conflicted as hell. Was this the right move?
Bottom line: Yes, it was right to leave for this Peace Corps experience. And, yes, it was right, two months later, to give up on it. By Christmas that year, after countless discerning journal entries and prayers, I’d returned. To this day, I refuse to say “I quit;” rather, it was a necessary ending. And that’s OK.
How do we know what’s worth the effort and what’s not worth the effort? How do we know when persistence is stupidity? How do we know when letting go is cowardice? How do we know when leaving is noble? How do we know when staying is strong?
This is one of the biggest cruxes to a life well-lived, in my humble opinion: knowing when to cut bait and when to hang on like your life depends on it.
Basically, should I stay or should I go (now)?
Here’re four tips for knowing when to go:
1. When staying is selfish.
If you’ve watched any superhero movie ever, you will be well-acquainted with this tip. If you have not watched a superhero movie you may be a lost cause, but let me attempt to be of assistance: Superheroes always eventually learn the lesson that they need to let go of their primary relationships (family, friends, romantic interests), because by staying in the relationship, they would be inflicting potential harm on their loved ones. Staying would be selfish.
Can you think of a time when you overstayed in a situation out of selfishness? When truth was telling you to leave it?
2. When there are absolutely no signs of life.
There are times when remaining in a situation isn’t particularly self-serving or beneficial to you alone; instead, it has no signs of life. Even my sad little blackberry plant, when I attempted to resuscitate it, wasn’t completely dead.
Why would you try to save something that’s already dead?
When you put it that way, it seems obvious that leaving is the right next step, but so often we find ourselves feeling very immobile in a lifeless situation
Sometimes the lack of life is there from the very beginning - there is nothing beneficial or thriving or living about the relationship/situation to start with. It just ended up happening (and shouldn’t have). And sometimes the death is slow, the signs of life lost over time. I think departures in these scenarios are the most tricky to discern, because it’s the frog-in-the-hot-water phenomenon; the water warms (the life dissolves) so slowly that the frog doesn’t know to jump out until it’s too late.
3. When staying leaves you victimized.
This one is sad and scary, and it’s a reality many face; some people are desperate to leave situations where they are victims. Staying when you are not safe - physically, emotionally, spiritually, or in any other way - can sometimes feel more appealing than leaving. And yet - and I know I’m walking on tender ground here - it is almost always more right for someone who is being victimized in a situation, once the exit strategy has legs, to hit the road.
If you are reading this, and you are feeling unsafe in a situation, please reach out and get help.
4. When you don’t have the strength.
I don’t have to tell you that life can be demanding, and situations can become overwhelmingly challenging. There are times when staying in a particular circumstance can be detrimental simply because you don't have the strength to endure it any longer.
What I find hard with this point is that it is difficult to know when we’ve reached each of our individually personal limitations. To get vulnerable, my mom experienced months of quality-of-life diminishing experimental chemo for her advanced melanoma a number of years ago. She went way beyond what I could have handled. Until she couldn’t anymore. It wasn’t quitting, it was saying no when she no longer had the strength.
Are you at the end of your strength rope? Do you need to cut back, say no, or let go?
After all, it's okay not to be invincible. Recognizing your limitations is a sign of self-awareness and strength in itself.Recognizing when you don't have the strength to continue is an act of self-compassion. It allows you to prioritize your well-being, recharge, and eventually face new challenges with renewed vigor.
Practicing going, when it’s what truth is telling you to do, is pivotal to a life well-lived. Like a exercising a muscle, it takes repeatedly trying the skill out. Hopefully these four reasons for healthily saying no will guide your workout.
