Can You Answer This Near Impossible Question?

[I used to have a newsletter called Lost in The Talk, where I’d share personal stories with my readers weekly. This essay is one of them. Originally emailed to my list on October 3rd, 2022. Oh, and it’s completely unedited. What you see is what I sent. So forgive me for my mistakes]

During my junior year of high school, I skipped baseball practice on Thursdays for an entire month. Rather than play catch in the frigid, late winter air, I’d stay indoors and attend an after-school class.

It sounds crazy.

I always wanted the school day to end to get out of there. Yet, I developed an urge to stay later and study more.

So what was this class?

It was a particle physics lecture where a scientist would come in and talk to us about everything and anything particle physics related.

But here’s the thing. My high school baseball team was one of the best in the county. We were at the top of the win columns, and people expected us to make it deep into the playoffs.

More than half of the team dreamed of playing college ball. So when I say that they loved baseball, I’m saying that their whole lives revolved around the sport.

The best part about being on a team with people who have an animalistic hunger to win it all is that the atmosphere they create on the field and in the dugout is electric. Anytime a teammate struck out a batter with a curveball, or someone hit a nuke over the fence, the entire team would go wild. They’d cheer as if we’d just won the county championship, even though it was only the second inning of a standard league game.

There was no other team you’d want to be a part of…

Except, I didn’t feel that way.

I couldn’t match the energy they gave off every game and practice. My teammates didn’t set their eyes on being the best team in the county. They wanted greatness. They wanted to win the state championship.

But I set my standards low.

For them, baseball was life. But for me, baseball was a way to keep myself busy after school. I didn’t have the same love of the game as I did when I was five years younger.

Sports used to be my life. Throughout my entire childhood, all I ever did was play sports. Whether it was baseball, football, basketball, volleyball, it didn’t matter. Sports defined who I was.

But people change. My passion for sports faded.

I took AP Physics junior year and began to develop a love for math and science. So when I had the opportunity to take that particle physics class, my heart didn’t want to say no.

But taking the class meant having to skip baseball practice. None of my teammates would have ever made the decision I made. They knew that if they skipped practice, they wouldn’t play in the next game.

I didn’t care if I didn’t play. I was willing to accept the consequences.

Fast forward to my senior year, no one on my team lost their ferocious winning mentality. After losing early in the playoffs the previous year, they wanted redemption. I thought I may have revived my passion for baseball, but I didn’t.

I sat on the bench every game and thought about everything except baseball.

There were moments throughout the season when I felt like the seven year old me who wanted to play under the big lights in the MLB. But for the majority of the season, I felt out of place. I couldn’t excite myself with the game.

Halfway through the season, we were the top team in the county. Our redemption year rode the right track. Our team morale reached unthinkable levels, and everyone couldn’t wait for the next game.

But my passion for baseball reached an all-time low. I thought about quitting the team before the season ended.

Then, I thought about an overused proverb I’d heard millions of times. You should always finish what you started.

These words of wisdom convinced me to suck it up and finish the season.

I felt that quitting would lower team morale. I couldn’t let my team down like that. We never won the county championship that year. We lost early in the playoffs again, but at least I finished the season.

I recently thought about that “always finish what you started” proverb. Because I think that advice is terrible.

When you have a passion for something you started, you should always finish what you started. But what if you started something and lost interest along the way, as I did with baseball?

Is it still worth it to finish what you started?

When you try to finish those journies and adventures that you lack interest in, you’re not proving yourself resilient. You’re just wasting precious time that you could invest in what matters to you.

When deciding whether or not I should quit the baseball team, I found myself stuck between two choices:

1. Please myself but let down my team by quitting
2. Please my team but let down myself by sucking it up and battling through the season

18-year-old me wasn’t as wise or aware of the world as I am today. Yet, I still can’t tell you whether I made the right decision or not by staying on the team.

But I know that there are countless times in life when you must make decisions that will make either you or someone else happy. There aren’t many win-win situations out there.

So, the big question I’ve been trying to solve is this:

“Is it better to prioritize your own happiness if it means letting down others, or should you prioritize others’ happiness if it means letting yourself down?”

I’m not even sure if there is an answer to this question. But what do you think?

Who should you prioritize first?