In a society that celebrates breakups when things aren’t serving someone as expected, that glorifies a “new me” at the onset of each new year, that idolizes those who start something new while those committed to long-term agreements are regarded as old school, and that says things are over when failure strikes, it is difficult to end things well.

Many of us have experienced new beginnings. Expectation and adventure await at the cusp of a new business venture or job position. The uncharted possibility is a joy at the onset of a promising new relationship. We put on our most attractive selves with strangers who we hope to impress . . . but that version fades as time passes. We become comfortable in our ventures and our relationships as they become less like an adventure and more like routine. In part, this is a positive maturing. Our comfortability with the new thing gives us an opportunity to both see and be seen, and in the process, we are challenged and sharpened. But often, with comfortability, a lack of challenge can cloud our once-ambitious selves. We grow complacent, wishing for the days where we had bright eyes and quickly beating hearts.

This is typically how the end of something begins.

But, what if the once-new-now-old ‘thing’ you are in is, by most standards . . . good? What is it like to end a chapter without resentment but rather with regard and delight for the space it had in your life? How do we end things well? This is a practice much less celebrated by our society.

There is wisdom in finishing a chapter in life even if it is, by all means, a ‘good’ thing. It’s not always easy to discern when a season of life is done, especially when things are going pretty well. So often we overstay our welcome, while other times we leave before dessert is served. But it’s much more likely that we’ll stay when we’re comfortable—especially if there are unknowns lurking at the doorstep of our departure.

Regardless of the unknowns, red flags still wave high when we’re reaching the end of something. A few good red flags are desiring growth and wanting more challenge, celebrating a job well done, training someone below you so well that they could take over (and possibly do the job better), when the job you have now was once your dream job but your dreams have changed, etc. (These are just a few examples.)

When contemplating the end of a chapter, there is no telling what will come when you turn the page. Enter: fear. What happens if you end the good thing and have nothing to replace it with—does it mean that you made the wrong decision? Does that mean you failed? Does it mean you should have stayed? Okay, maybe. But hear me out: it is rare (and a privilege) for things to line up so well that you can flawlessly walk out of one commitment and into another without any challenges. There are always unknowns. Life guarantees many seasons of waiting, and while sometimes we know what we are looking forward to, other times, the fun is in finding out.

Additionally, our society loves over dramatizing negative endings—those who have bought into this narrative will experience difficulty when discerning the best time to make a healthy departure. If we can’t give someone a really good reason why we left our career of 5+ years, who will believe us when we say it’s right? If we can’t quite define it yet, but deep down know a relationship is going nowhere, why end things? If we don’t have a boss that makes us miserable or a partner that is abusive or a business that is going bankrupt, you (and others, mostly others) would wonder why on earth would we change course?

Before you go and quit your job or break up with your boo thang, take some time to self-reflect. If you achieve your goals but do not truly grow, you’re likely to become prideful. If you grow but don’t achieve your goals, you’re likely to become bitter—those aren’t good reasons to leave something that started out good. Before pointing the fingers at others, and before you can say that leaving is right, it’s crucial to point at yourself and say, “Am I the problem?”

So, is it possible to end things on a good note rather than wait for things to fail? Absolutely. If you believe that there is something else out there for you, it’s possible that is true—it’s also possible that you’ve bought into the narrative that newness is always better, or that you are deserving of something when you’re simply not. There must be a mental balance when surrounded by a society that writes melodies about messy breakups and sings even more loudly of new relationships. There is an incredible reward to an awareness of self, when you know where you need to be—or not to be.