Whether it be your job, a sport, a hobby, your marriage...

JOB #1: The week my boss publicly propositioned me for sex and then vomited on my shoes.

Oh wait, no, that was my first week. So: a year after that.

JOB #2: The month our company president:

installed an alarm on the back door so she could monitor our movements;
cut all our benefits but took a $50K raise;
threatened us with dismissal if we criticized the company anywhere at any time;
fired my lovely, brilliant, pregnant boss;
made me supervise her ***** stepdaughter;
told me a pound of ground coffee weighs more than a pound of beans
Oh, nope, wrong again: a year after that.

JOB #3: The day my doctor told me that my insomnia, olfactory hallucinations, corneal abrasions and - somehow - a bout of poison ivy were related to burnout and overwork from my job, and that if I valued my health, I should in her medical opinion quit right away.

Except, you guessed it: not till a year after that.

In short, I am not a quitter. People -- and kitten posters -- often laud this quality, but when I think of all the time and anguish I could have saved myself, professionally as well as personally, if I'd just quit sooner, I wonder if it's done me more harm than good.

Leaving is scary. The unknown is terrifying. I have friends who hated every one of those jobs as much as I did, and they're still there. But I decided -- and it took me a long time to get here -- that I'd rather be actively ****ing up but learning, over stagnating or suffering. All this is true of personal relationships, too.

I am trying to be more forgiving of myself when I realize it's time to close the book on something. Just because a thing can be done, doesn't mean it should. Sacrifice is not sainthood.

Quitting is like thirst: by the time I realize the need is there, it's already long overdue.

Source: QUORA