I’ve tried to learn guitar six times.

Six times I bought into the idea. Six times I pictured myself actually being decent at it someday. Six times I quit before I ever got calluses on my fingers.

The first time, I had a real reason: Life was busy, the business was demanding everything I had, and something had to give. I told myself I’d come back to it. That felt reasonable, and it probably was.

The second time, I quit a little faster. The excuse was similar: Life, work, time. But here’s what I noticed in the back of my mind, even then. The excuse came easier. I’d already broken the trail through the woods, and this time I just followed the path.

By the sixth time, about a year ago, I lasted a few weeks. And when I quit, I barely even flinched. The excuse was ready before I even needed it. I’d used it so many times it had worn smooth, comfortable and familiar—like an old coat I keep reaching for, even though I know it doesn’t fit right anymore.

That’s when I finally realized that I wasn’t just quitting guitar, I was practicing quitting.

Every time I walked away from something hard, I made it slightly easier to walk away from the next hard thing. The habit wasn’t playing guitar; the habit was leaving when it stopped being fun and started being work.

I’ve built a company from nothing. I’ve made decisions that kept people employed through brutal stretches. I’ve bet on myself when the math didn’t add up. I know how to be tough when something matters.

But guitar? Apparently, guitar didn’t matter enough. And that’s worth sitting with for a minute.

Because the things we quit reveal something about us that the things we conquer never will. Every “quit” leaves a little residue. A small internal agreement that this is what you do when things get uncomfortable.

I’m not writing this from the other side. I haven’t picked the guitar back up yet. I’m not going to wrap this in a bow and tell you I’m now three months in and loving every minute of it.

What I will tell you is that I have a goal to start again and soon. And this time I want to quit the habit of quitting more than I want to quit the lessons.

Maybe this time it sticks. Maybe it doesn’t. But I’m at least honest enough now to know what’s actually at stake when I pick that thing up again.

It’s not about the guitar.