You’ve gotta quit in order to grow. The old model of growth by adding more and more and more is unsustainable. It leads to burnout. It’s bad for the health of the community, the planet, and you.

I didn’t totally recognize that when I first started by business. My editor asked me to write a book and I was so full of that young, I-can-do-anything energy that I said yes.

Thinking I’d just tuck it in around the edges of my life.

Getting up early, before my kid.

Staying up late, after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Taking weekend retreats in the woods to write, rewrite, and reread my own words for the bazillionth time.

It worked, but I ended up resenting that book.

Since it takes me a long time to learn from my mistakes, I wrote a second and third book using the same burnout model.

After the third book I swore I’d never write another. The process spent me.

I hadn’t adequately prepared my time and energy for that level of growth.

See, that growth did cause me to cut things – though I didn’t consciously understand it at the time. I cut time with my family and friends. I cut sleep and deep rest. I lost a summer of bike rides.

And when you cut out the things that bring you joy, you get resentment.

Seems so obvious, doesn’t it?

Yet we typically don’t face these facts and make thoughtful choices about what we’ll cut in order to make space for the incoming opportunities.

So now I know better. When I write down my quarterly or annual goals, I also write a list of the things I’ll quit so I have the room to accomplish those goals.

This drop list was from 2015:

I quit my spot on the local Human Subjects Institutional Review Board (and currently have a ban on all committee work). It didn’t fit the way my career had evolved anymore.

I quit working for the American Evaluation Association, who chronically underpaid me.

And I quit having cluttered drawers because it messes with my peace of mind.

Another year, I wrote:

That was the only thing. I quit hosting a podcast. It took up a lot of time and the more I got to know my cohost the more my internal alarm bells were going off.

This quit list came in prep for the year I knew I’d be writing books two and three:

I actually said I’d quit having such frequent massages and chiropractic adjustments! What the hell was I thinking?! It takes me a while to learn from my mistakes.

I quit writing for free on other people’s blogs.

I quit working for small projects, which take just as much admin time as big projects.

I significantly cut back on holding workshops for organizations that paid me far under what I was worth.

And I predicted I’d be done with my post-book recovery after just one year. LOL.

More recently, I quit taking on work with people or companies that don’t align with me. And I quit reading emails from my kid’s school’s PTA – bye, guilt!

Each of your goals should also have a quit buddy.

It’s been five years since I wrote a book. Each year my editor gently asks, in her hard-to-say-no-to London accent, “Can we put our heads together about another edition?”

I’m still not sure I feel ready. It’s taken five years to recover from the burnout.

This time around, I’m not saying yes until I can identify the things I’ll quit.

I’m not willing to sacrifice sleep, personal time, or exercise.

I’m not gonna give up writing you emails or getting into the Boost & Bloom Office Hours to answer your burning questions.

So what is gonna give?

Without a doubt, I’ll lose out on income. Books are not lucrative and I’ll have to quit taking on so many data viz workshops.

And that’s as far as my thinking has evolved right now. Which is why I haven’t answered my editor yet.

The hardest: Quitting what you started.

It’s pretty easy to identify the things you’ll quit that bring you resentment, like that committee. Sooooo much harder to let go of the things you founded.

A Bearing Fruit reader reached out on a different topic but in the process of introducing herself, she listed out all the extra curricular groups she’d launched or was currently chairing. I could see the squeeze those were putting on what she really wanted to do with her time. So this part is for you.

Nobody wants to let go of their babies. Even if it means the baby has taken all your fruit and cut your branches (ever read The Giving Tree? It’s dark!). You’ll feel better about leaving it behind if you send it off with some guidance.

Write up some guiding principles for that group you started. Make a wish list. Develop an operating manual. Then pass it all on to someone else (yes – you give other people leadership opportunities, which is very cool). You get no guarantees that they’ll abide by your instructions. Hope they’ll make your baby even better.

If it dies on the vine – that’s what it was supposed to do. No org, club, interest group, or adventure can sustain on the labor of one person (you, Babe).

You can always come back in five years and run for vice president. And no matter what, “Founder” stays on your resume.

My friend, what’s on your quit list? Shoot me an email with the next thing you’ll quit, as soon as you need to make space.