Never in my life until recently have I prioritized anything more than setting a routine. My definition of “sunday scaries” is the anxiety of not being in bed by 9pm, missing out on my 8 hours of REM. Maybe that’s why I’ve swapped “wanna grab dinner?” for “wanna grab brunch?” as my go-to.
I like to think I follow a loose schedule, but I’m honestly more rigid than I want to admit. If I’m not sticking to my “loose” routine, I find myself being stressed, unable to live in the moment because my mind is fixated on how backtracked I am.
It’s a work night — I’m at dinner reconnecting with old friends, and I check the time and notice that it’s past 9:30. “Ok if it takes me 25m to get home, and I want to be in bed by 10:30 to get my 8 hours and at least an hour to mindlessly scroll on tiktok, I should’ve left...an hour ago.” I’m out at dinner, surrounded by good company, yet all I can think about is the plan to literally hop into my bed. Do I even know what we’re talking about at this table anymore?
When did routines become more than just a way to organize our days and tell time? As a kid, being told to brush my teeth was the signal that it was time to go to bed sometime soon, but it didn’t specify exactly when or dictate a strict order. Now, routines seem to dictate our lives, offering a sense of control in a chaotic world.
Routine is in vogue — or at least that’s what my fyp tells me. Scroll after scroll and it’s “my morning routine,” “my hair routine,” “my skincare routine,” “my bedtime routine.” The endless stream of content around building and perfecting routines is like a modern-day manual for self-improvement. These routines become blueprints for the ‘right way to be,’ and now it seems like we’ve forgotten how to be flexible.
It feels like I’m always chasing that balance. As much as a routine keeps me sane and steady, it also feels like time is slipping away — before I know it, it’s already May. Eventually, every night starts to blend together. Monday through Friday becomes a blur of work, dinner, getting ready for bed, outfit planning, and maybe an hour or two of watching SATC. This cycle has become my norm, and I’ve become so fixated on it that I’ve even canceled dates out of fear of not getting enough sleep. Even a well-oiled routine that has kept me on track can become mundane and, in this case, a barrier in my dating life.
I realize I’ve become my own drill sergeant, clinging to this rigid schedule. But I’ve started to see that giving myself some leeway helps me feel less drained and more open to those last minute plans that can shake up an otherwise predictable week. And suddenly, time feels like it’s slowing down again. Maybe it’s all about setting my dealbreakers (sleep) and figuring out where I can let things be a bit more spontaneous.
Even on weekends, I aim to be in bed by 12. I’m in an uber heading home with C, checking the time, and I turn to her, “omg it is SO late.” It’s 10:42. There’s a doorman in my building who I’ve gotten friendly with on the rare occasions I come home past midnight. On one of those nights, he says, “I appreciate that you come home late but never drunk.” Was this a compliment or a subtle roast at the fact that I’m missing out on those classic twentysomething experiences we often associate with as part of the fun of being a young adult?
But recently, my military routine has been shaken. Friday, I found myself rolling in close to 4am after a night out at The Delancey — not my usual scene. I drank a bit more than I would have liked to, and the same doorman, J, cheered me on and high-fived me for finally coming home drunk. Ok, I think we’ve confirmed that he thought I was lame for never coming home drunk before. I frantically wake up the next morning at 10 in distress with my first thought being, “the day is basically over.” My entire schedule and routine were thrown off, but I’m trying to view this deviation as a night that brought me new stories to share at the next dinner with the girls, memories to laugh at, and another bar for me to rank on my Beli.
So what happens when you fall off the wagon with the routine, when life inevitably hits you?
I feel like those are the moments that end up becoming the most memorable in hindsight. I’m writing this as a reminder to myself — don’t get stuck in rigid routines. Sometimes, it’s okay to let the routine go, even. So, if it’s a Tuesday night and you’re reaching for your retinol serum to finish your skincare routine, but a last-min trivia night pops up, go. One night of 7 hours of REM instead of 8 won’t kill you.
cheers,
rach
It was on my “to-read” list for a while. Loved it :)
Very relatable. I also have given up on following a routine recently, less a conscious decision but more too exhausted to think about it.