Routine has always been challenging for me.
I don’t have the type of neurodivergence that makes me want the same thing at the same time every day. I have the type that makes me throw a load of laundry in the washer and forget about it, start a painting and abandon it, begin to rearrange my bedroom, and vacuum half the rugs in my house before 9 am. The idea of doing the same thing at the same time every day is a jail cell for my brain. It makes me feel trapped which makes me want to rebel and not do a damn thing.
Neurodivergent people know this battle well. Routine is shiny and new and aspirational and you hit it with all your might. But two or three or seven days in your brain cries out from the restrictions and the entire endeavor is abandoned. It’s like that with staying organized and cleaning the house and working out. Novelty is interesting but routine is only novel for the first day or two… then it’s just routine.
But in the van, something happened. I had so little day-to-day stability that I craved routine. I wanted to wake up in the same place at the same time every day and know what my day would hold.
In the contrary nature of brains, once I had access to that, of course, I didn’t want it in the same way. But because I have decided to do things the way they work for me, I found a middle ground. My routine does not consist of doing the same thing at the same time every day. Instead, I get up and choose from a list of options. I printed out a daily routine planner and laminated it at a local print shop. It hangs on my fridge where I can see it easily.
My routine is a list of all the things that must be done in the morning, but I have total freedom to choose how and when to do it. And within that list, I have options. I can walk or do yoga. I can meditate or journal. If I’m having a high-energy day, I’ll do everything. If I wake up low, then I pick and choose. But every day, I wash my face, do my skincare, brush my teeth, eat breakfast, and take my pills. I may add reading or art in the morning or I may lounge on the couch and watch the sunrise paint the mountains pastel. Some days I shower in the morning and others at night – whatever I want.
It works for me. I have structure to ensure that my mornings are productive (because a wasted morning can easily lead to a wasted day) but there is no rigidity – I get to choose what to do based on how I’m feeling, which is the freedom my brain needs.
I’ve also been settling into a routine in town. I know my preferred tables to work at in the library and have a few backups as well. I joined a yoga studio and added classes to my weekly routine. I have the grocery store I like best and the meat market I prefer. I know which gas stations I like and which dispensaries have a good selection.
And yet there is still so much freedom to explore here. So many restaurants to try, so many bars to visit, and dispensaries to explore. So many trails to hike and events to attend and people to meet. The most joyous part of being back in a house again is the routine and the freedom around it.
Well – perhaps the most joyous part of being back in a house is the indoor plumbing and private shower, but the routine and freedom are a close second. I talked to my mom earlier this week and when she asked what I did this weekend, all I had to report was yoga class, grocery shopping, and meal prep. She knew how great it felt to have a calm weekend settling in at home, the kind that is impossible to have in a vehicle.
As winter closes its grip on the mountains, I will settle even deeper. I love reading in the winter, when the morning and evening hours are dark. I love making soup and crock pot meals, warm, hearty dishes that heat you from the inside out. Winter is a time for settling, burrowing in to rest and recharge, and it feels amazing to have a routine that supports that, one that I know I can continue.
Setting myself up for success means working with my brain, exactly as it is. It means leaving behind the “shoulds” – I should be able to do this task, should be able to maintain this routine, should be able to have a spotless house and zero dirty laundry, and on and on and on. Shoulds bring on a shame spiral that will kill any motivation and put you into a task-start lock. Some things are hard for me and spiraling into why they’re hard and should they be this hard is not helpful.
What is helpful is charts and lists left in a highly visible place, laminated so I can re-write them each week. What is helpful is the freedom to wake up in the morning and work on my latest paint-by-number for an hour before “officially” starting my day. What is helpful is grace and remembering that I am a person with limitations, not a production machine. All of this makes it much easier to support doing the thing that I know makes me feel good, without kicking myself when I fall off.
There is a concept you learn about as a beginner yogi and meditator – beginning again. It is not radical and every teacher has their own way of framing it. But when you get past the cheesy simplicity of it, it is incredibly deep. We all fall off. We all get lost in our thoughts instead of focusing on our breath. We all take a few too many days away from the mat instead of being in our bodies. Everyone does. And instead of telling yourself a slew of unkind things, meditation teaches us to, without judgment, begin again.
My routine does not last seven days a week. I conform to it five days, at most. And every Monday is an opportunity to begin again.
