Im a Quitter..

I have been called a quitter my whole life.

Not always out loud. Sometimes it was just a look. A sigh. That quiet disappointment from someone who watched me walk away from something they thought I should want. A degree. A habit. A path that looked perfectly fine from the outside.

And for the longest time, I believed them. I carried quitter around like a label stitched into everything I wore.

Let me tell you about the peanut butter bread.
When I was little, I would decide that peanut butter bread was my absolute favourite thing in the world. I would want it every single day. And then one week, just like that, I was done with it. No explanation, no transition period. Just — no thank you, not for me anymore. I wanted be a swimmer. A dancer. A tennis star. And almost overnight, the switch would flip. I would lose interest completely.

I was not an easy child.

And today, they would probably sit me down, give me a questionnaire, and hand me a diagnosis and a prescription. Oh wait, they did!

But something in me is starting to ask a different question:
What if there was never anything wrong with me? What if I was just… me?

What if some of us are simply designed to not settle? Not broken. Not difficult.

Just wired to keep moving until we find the thing that actually fits.

I’m calling it something different now. I’m calling it editing. I’m calling it discernment.

Here’s to the quitters. You are not a failure.

You are someone who knows their own worth well enough to keep going until something finally sticks.

As for me, Im about to quit again. And honestly, I think it might be my greatest Superpower.

Here’s to finding our spark.
— Sushmita

I dont know who I am anymore. And Im finally Okay Saying That.

I don’t really know where to start.
Which is fitting, I suppose, because that’s exactly where I am in life right now.

I don’t know where to start. I don’t know who I am. All I know ,and I mean all I know with absolute certainty :is that my body and my mind have finally forced me to stop.
Stop running. Stop performing. Stop pretending.
Just. Stop.
I’ve been running for so long that I forgot I was running. The noise became normal. The chaos became comfortable. And the stillness? The stillness became the scariest thing imaginable.
So here I am. In what I can only describe as my season of recovery.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. But this time feels different. Because this time I’m not running away from something. I’m finally, terrifyingly, running toward myself.
This is Desert Bloom. And this is just the beginning.