You must learn a new way to think before you can master a new way to be – Marianne Williamson

Habit. We are all creatures of habit. We like things a certain way and become comfortable with our routine. In the last two months I’ve experienced the ups and downs of not having any routine. I don’t need to be up and out the door by a certain time. No need to dress up for work. I’ve no meetings to attend or reports to write. Letting go of old habits has been unsettling at times, especially when I think I ‘should’ be doing something. My resistance to letting go of routine has also brought up some interesting parts of myself.

There is the teenager in me. She loves living this way since nobody is telling her what to do. She loathes getting out of bed early, and quite frankly, doesn’t care about paying bills, leaves the bed unmade and dishes in the sink, sometimes for days. She’s happy to lay around with a book and eat chips (Cape Cod reduced fat to be specific), hop on her bicycle and ride to the village for ice cream, or turn up the music and dance in the living room. Her motto is, fuck responsibility, and I love her! She makes me feel light and free.

Then there is my control freak, the worrywart. She is the head of household, responsible to a fault, the principal – no running in the hallway young lady! She thinks it might be a good idea to return to the old routine. She fears the unknown and just might be willing live in a state of miserable comfort to avoid the risk. She’s the one who holds onto jobs and relationships long past their shelf life. Her motto; suck it up, buttercup. I am thankful for and acknowledge her protectiveness.

There are other parts of course, but these two have the strongest opinions about change and routine. Then there is the self. Me. Here. Today. The woman willing to trust myself, willing to trust that life is here for me. I am not unaware of the risks and understand there is a time limit on my financial resources, yet I am no longer willing to sacrifice happiness and genuine self-worth for comfortable misery. I know I will be OK.

All of this brings me back to habit – routine. My therapist suggested I create a new routine. Not what the teenager wants and the worrywart is only mildly appreciative of this, but I am recognizing that it is time. But let’s be clear – this routine is about what feels right for me. It’s about creativity and exploration and feeding the soul. It’s about being intentional in my choices.

At the top of the list is writing. How I love the soft clack of the keyboard as the letters form words and then, there my thoughts are on paper, or the silky glide of the pen, the blank page suddenly telling me what I think. I find it’s magical. It’s maddening. It’s necessary.

Now, please pass the chips?