I’ve been reading a lot about habits recently. Not for any reason other than I’m endlessly curious about human behaviour and why we choose to do or say or feel or think the way we do.
The current book I’m devouring is called Atomic Habits, by James Clear—you’ve likely heard of it as it’s been a phenomenally successful global bestseller—and it is absolutely fascinating. But what makes it so digestible for the average reader, is that the author has developed a very clear framework for how to build good habits and break bad ones. While I won’t share any great spoilers here as I urge you to check it out for yourself—one tool that I found particularly helpful was his theory about using implementation intentions:
I will [BEHAVIOUR] at [TIME] in [LOCATION].
While the whole process of forming a new habit is certainly a little more nuanced, as I began to work my way through some of the exercises peppered through the book, I decided to put this particular tool about being super specific into action in my own life—starting with one of the habits many of us wish we could find more time and motivation to execute. That is: exercise more.
Before having children, I honestly thought this habit was more about intrinsic motivation than anything else—and I was one of those annoying people who joyfully jumped out of bed long before 6am to squeeze in a daily workout. But now, aside from berating my past self for squandering those many (many!) mornings I could have enjoyed a sleep in, I understand that wanting to exercise more is not just about motivation, but surrendering to the season of life you’re currently living in. To be frank, little children are so demanding of your time and energy that it’s only natural for habits like exercise to drop to the bottom of the to-do list. While I do have the ‘luxury’ of going for a walk on days my toddler is at daycare as my youngest will still happily nap in the pram, as someone who has always enjoyed being fit, recently I’ve felt that simply ‘walking’ (no matter how briskly), just isn’t enough.
So, putting Clear’s theories into practice, I decided to see if I could make space for more movement (specifically: yoga) somewhere else in my day. Now, as I open my eyes in the morning, instead of tossing and turning or attempting to doze until the kids wake up, I literally roll out of bed, onto the floor and start stretching. No matter how early it is.
I will [BEHAVIOUR: roll out of bed & stretch] at [TIME: the minute I wake up] in [LOCATION: my bedroom].
While it might seem ridiculous to have to be so specific—by spelling out exactly what, how and where my habit will take place, lays a solid foundation for me to actually follow through. Plus, by literally landing on the floor next to my bed, I was not only awake but cold too, so I figure, I may as well start stretching.
For the first few days, I tried to make this habit as easy as possible, flowing through a few yoga asanas on the carpet before my mind could catch up with my body and persuade me to climb back beneath my doona. But now, because the habit already feels entrenched, I open my eyes and happily step out of bed, roll out a yoga mat and begin my practice. While there is no method to what flows from there, I try to just tune into my creaky old body and do what feels good that day—but remarkably, the habit has stuck and no matter whether it’s for two minutes or twenty, I keep stretching until I feel I’ve unravelled or, the kids wake up.
Aside from formulating new habits, I’ve also been doing a lot of reflection on my current habits and interestingly, the habits I place value on already follow Clear’s four laws of habit making. Reading, as an example, is a deeply ingrained habit of mine. Sure, it’s also a hobby, but I often get asked how I find time to read so prolifically despite juggling work, kids and all that jazz. And I think the answer is that I have transformed my reading habit into a reward so now I conflate certain tasks or actions with the gift of reading. As an example, if I know I have an article to write for a client but I can feel myself procrastinating, I place my book next to my laptop as a lure—offering myself the reward of reading as soon as my article is complete (and as long as the baby doesn’t also wake up, of course). But sure enough, what could be a task that ordinarily takes two hours, is often smashed out in 30 minutes because the habit of reading is so appealing. Likewise at night, I keep a Kindle under my pillow and instead of doom scrolling my phone, I’ve created a reading habit that cannot be broken. After jumping into bed, I plug my phone into the charger on the floor, turn on my Kindle and read until I fall asleep. Every. Single. Night.
While I’m grateful I’ve managed to bookend my day with a couple of habits I truly enjoy—there are certainly a few more I’d like to practise more consistently. And no doubt, a few I should break, too. Chocolate, anyone?