Ditching the Routine
Listen to the audio version below:
Things change.
Last year I lived like a wild child in the Asheville mountains. Now, I’m working with Hollywood film directors on a fancy museum exhibition, working long hours and making frequent trips from Boston to New York. For the next few weeks, this project owns 80% of my time and energy.
I want to talk about the other 20%.
What happens in that 20% of remaining capacity must provide me with rest, basic needs, stress relief, refueling, and glimpses of joy to keep me human. So...what does that actually look like?
It looks like keeping a gentle routine, and regularly chucking that routine out the window.
When I lived in Asheville, I had a luxurious morning ritual that included walking among the trees, drinking tea, exercising, and writing. That was a freaking delightful routine back then, but it's completely impractical right now.
Now...I'm doing my best. I stick to routines that work and abandon the others.
For example, I try to move my body in an organic way every morning. I've learned that this is so key to my wellbeing when I'm at my desk all day. It's a routine that I try to keep above all others, especially when I'm resistant (a signal that I need it the most). For me, the key to keeping this routine has been flexibility. I let my body tell me if it wants impact, sweating, stretching, walking, or dancing.
On the other hand, as my work demands ramped up I paused a beloved morning ritual of working on my book. Because my time is so limited, that ritual was replaced with what my friend Nicole calls "unsexy self-care"--things like washing my hair, taxes, or laundry. After traveling, that early morning time is for sleeping. And sometimes if I haven't been outside for two days, that time is for something soul-filling, like an early walk in the woods.
Routines are tricky.
Sometimes they're a lifeline when we’re sinking. At the beginning of the pandemic, I heard an interview where Michelle Obama said the only thing keeping her sane was creating a simple structure for her days and sticking to it without question. The routine steadied her in the midst of the upheaval.
Whenever I experience a shift in my life, maintaining certain rituals (or creating new ones) can keep me tethered. If there's too much uncertainty, gentle structure makes me feel safer.
As my wise friend Emma says, "a river needs river banks."
Routines can be wonderful. But here's the big asterisk. Whenever I need something different than my routine calls for, I give it to myself without question or guilt. I embrace fluidity. Above all self-imposed and external expectations, I'm responsive to my actual needs and I try to be relentlessly kind to myself.
There are times when pushing through resistance is really important. But for those of us raised on a diet of high achievement, we often push ourselves when it's not necessary.
It took me a long time to get here. I used to think staying the course meant success and changing course was failure. When I missed a beat, I was hard on myself. Imperfect routines added an extra layer of guilt and pressure during already stressful times.
And for many years, my self-care was dictated by societal "shoulds" and self-improvement. When my brain said, "I should do this thing everyday to fix myself," self-discipline became more harmful than helpful.
Now I know that blindly maintaining routines is a self-betrayal.
Flexibility and responsiveness are key ingredients of resilience. Variety is invigorating and evolution is natural. We aren’t meant to stay the same, and neither should our routines. When it comes to self-care, I now embrace adaptability. I listen to what I need in each moment and each season, and learn to respond--rather than dictating or punishing.
Perhaps self-care is a constant dance between discipline and surrender; pushing and trust; routine and variety.
I hope this can be a permission slip for you to gently lean into structure or freedom. I assure you, they can coexist.
Interested in this topic? Check out my follow-up post, The Pros and Cons of Routines.