Why You Feel Like Quitting (Even When You’re on the Right Path)

Written by Michelle Ong

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

Almost two years ago, I started this blog. I was excited, maybe even a little obsessive.

I had content pillars, posting schedules, drafts of products, ideas for videos. I told myself I’d show up consistently, no matter what.

And for a while, I did. Every week. Sometimes twice.

But almost no one read it.

Some weeks, my analytics showed fewer than five views. I stared at the numbers late at night, wondering if those views were just me refreshing the page from different devices.

I tried to stay optimistic. The beginning is always slow, I told myself. But silence has a way of eroding conviction.

Then life got louder. I changed jobs. The learning curve was steep. Most of my energy went into staying afloat. Writing didn’t disappear because I stopped caring, it disappeared because I had nothing left to give.

One night, exhausted, I hovered over the “delete site” button. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe the path I thought was “right” was just another dead end.

But something stopped me. Not motivation. Not discipline.

Just a quiet remembering.

The effort was invisible, but it wasn’t wasted

Even if no one was reading, I had changed.

I wrote more clearly. Thought more deeply. Noticed patterns I used to repeat unconsciously.

Those shifts were real even if no metric captured them.

That’s when the real question surfaced:

Why do we feel like quitting even when the path still matters?

Why progress doesn’t feel like progress

We expect growth to feel affirming.

But most of the time, it feels like doubt. Like repetition. Like effort without applause.

We’re wired to respond to visible movement. When progress is quiet, motivation dries up. That doesn’t mean nothing is happening, it just means we can’t see it yet.

Some seasons build roots, not results.

When life gets loud, meaning grows quiet

There are chapters of life where meaning takes a backseat to endurance.

New responsibilities. Emotional strain. Chronic stress.

The things that once mattered start to feel heavy. Not because they’ve lost value, but because you’re operating beyond capacity.

Needing rest doesn’t mean you’re done. It means you’re human.

Overwhelm disguised as procrastination

I used to blame myself for procrastination. Now I see it differently.

When everything feels urgent and important, the mind shuts down. Avoidance becomes protection. What looks like a lack of discipline is often a lack of clarity.

Before pushing harder, it helps to ask:

What am I asking myself to hold right now?

The middle is where most people quit

Most meaningful paths have a discouraging middle.

The excitement fades. The results stall. The external validation disappears.

This is where many people decide it’s “not meant to be.”

But often, it’s not a dead end. It’s the part where the work becomes real.

Quiet seasons don’t mean you’re failing. They often mean you’re stabilizing.

I was measuring the wrong signals

Traffic. Engagement. Comparison.

Once I stopped fixating on numbers, better questions emerged:

  • Does this still matter to me?
  • Am I growing internally, even if nothing shows externally?
  • Am I tired or truly finished?
  • Would I regret quitting once the exhaustion passes?

Clarity didn’t come from answers. It came from asking more honest questions.

Small wins rebuild trust

When everything feels too heavy, I no longer aim for momentum.

I aim for continuity.

One paragraph. One session. One small act of follow-through.

Trust isn’t rebuilt through intensity. It’s rebuilt through keeping small promises to yourself.

The urge to quit isn’t always wisdom

I used to think wanting to quit meant something was wrong. Now I see it as information.

Sometimes it means:

  • I’m overloaded.
  • I’m comparing too much.
  • I’m asking for more output than my system can sustain.

Not every urge to quit should be obeyed. But not every urge to stay needs justification either.

I’m choosing a different pace

I’m not trying to impress others anymore.

I’m writing more slowly. More honestly. Less polished. More real.

This blog isn’t about productivity or reinvention. It’s about clarity, especially in the quiet, confusing middle.

If you’re reading this and feeling stuck, discouraged, or tempted to walk away from something that once mattered:

  • Pause before you decide.
  • Ask whether it’s your intuition speaking, or your exhaustion.

Sometimes, the path isn’t wrong. You’re just tired.

And tiredness deserves care, not conclusions.

Reader Reflection

Before you quit something that once mattered to you, ask yourself:

Is my exhaustion speaking, or my intuition? Am I done, or just tired? And does this still light something in me, even faintly?

If it does, you may just be in the uncomfortable middle.

Feeling tired but not clear yet?

The Personal Clarity Workbook helps you pause and regain basic clarity.

→ Learn more here.

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