Geek's Guide to Getting Better

Step 1.
Decide on a new habit you want to embed into your life.

Step 2.
Come up with a simple way of tracking how you get on, adding that accountability into the mix.

Step 3.
Miss a single day and berate yourself for always being a failure, for never amounting to anything, and for not being able to commit to anything.

That has been my cycle of self-improvement for over a decade. The gap between steps 2 and 3 might vary in length, sometimes it’s a few weeks, sometimes even months, sometimes it’s only a few hours, but step 3 always comes. It’s inevitable. Like the cycle of the seasons. As sure as George R. R. Martin is about the oncoming cold season, I can be sure that I will be beating myself for not sticking to something I committed to.

It’s all too easy to fall into that cycle—moving from positive intentions to self-flagellation the moment we slip. And once you’ve slipped up, it’s that much harder to get back on the horse. Where you were and where you have fallen to just seem too far away from one another. What’s the point in even starting the climb again immediately? I’ve fucked it up. I need to regroup, replan, and try again later. And until then, I will make myself feel terrible, holding out hope that next time will be different.

Self-improvement sells. Capitalism has learned to monetize the dream of a better life, one habit tracker and celebrity cookbook at a time. Like everyone else, I feel that pull. You’re reading this blog, you know I feel that pull.

The thing is, the desire to change, the desire to improve, it isn’t actually a bad thing. It’s good, it pushes us to be better, do better, to go beyond what we currently are and discover who we are capable of being. That’s all amazing. The problem is how that message is packaged and sold. It’s turned from a journey of self-discovery into a formula for repeating someone else’s success. I say that as someone who still struggles now with looking for the perfect system, the optimal solution, the exact balance of all things that will make success just happen.

Spoiler: it’s all a marketing gimmick.

You know that. I know that. It’s not a surprise that capitalism lied to us to get our money. Knowing that it’s not true doesn’t take away the desire for it. And it doesn’t take away the behaviours we have learned in our pursuit of it.

Our brains are built with a built-in threat radar: the amygdala in the ancient limbic system. It evolved to scream “danger!” at the smallest hint of trouble so we’d survive saber-toothed tigers. Today, that same alarm goes off if we miss a check-mark on a habit tracker—even though there’s nothing life-threatening about it. Meanwhile, the slow, wise prefrontal cortex—the part that dreams up goals and long-term plans—loses its tug-of-war with the limbic system every time our alarm bells ring.

When you skip one day, the expected dopamine hit vanishes and midbrain neurons fire a negative “oops” signal, literally weakening the new behaviour. Then our brains—hardwired to focus in on negative experiences over positive ones—loop the mistake on repeat in the anterior cingulate, fueling guilt and rumination. Before you know it, that single slip feels like proof you can’t change, and you bail on the whole thing—even though every logical part of you knows you shouldn’t.

You’re fighting against your own neurology.

Kristen Neff talks about self-compassion in her book. She says “Self-compassion involves being warm and understanding toward ourselves when we suffer, fail, or feel inadequate rather than ignoring our pain or flagellating ourselves with self-criticism.” I definitely don’t feel like I do that at all. If you asked me, I would be able to tell you all the reasons I *should* be compassionate to myself, and all the reasons that behaviour change is hard. I wrote this entire post explaining exactly that point. But inside, I am still angry that I didn’t stick to my planned meals today. Right now, I feel more whale than person—though even as I think it, a quieter voice reminds me that feelings aren’t facts.

I know that this cycle is killing me. I know that every time I end the day feeling like shit I will start the day wondering why I bother. I know that setting the stakes so high only gives me further to fall. I know that I am burning myself out on this belief that I am not capable of being anything other than I am right now and I know that I can’t keep doing it anymore.

I need to change the way I talk to myself when I fall short of my goals. Brené Brown says it best that “shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change.” Most days I don’t even believe that part of me exists. I feel like it died a long time ago.

What can I do about it? How can I step out of this cycle?

Firstly, I can learn to give myself a break. If I start to change my behaviours and I screw up one day, then I need to stop, take a deep breath and say “ok, once won’t ruin things.” Which is far easier for me to type now, than it is for me to do it tomorrow. So new rule:

If I mess up, I will pause, forgive myself, and immediately take one small step to rebuild the habit. No shame. No delay.

I also will be looking at how I build habits into my daily life. Almost once a year I listen to the audiobook for Atomic Habits, because when I have applied his methods, James Clear’s advice has really changed my life around. I haven’t been doing it for a while though, so I will return for his advice one more time.

Finally, I will remind myself that I am doing the best I can right now and some days that best will be getting up in the morning and getting through the day. I will remind myself that I cannot be perfect every single minute of the day and I will remind myself that one slip does not negate weeks of forward progress.

Progress is messy. It’s weird and non-linear and often brutal. But each step forward is still a step forward. Each choice to act like the person I want to become is a crack in the chains of the person I used to be.

Tomorrow, when I miss a habit or break a streak, I’ll pause. I’ll take one small step forward anyway. I’ll remind myself:

A stumble isn’t the end of the journey. It’s part of it.

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References

[1] James Clear, Atomic Habits: An Easy & Proven Way to Build Good Habits & Break Bad Ones (2018)
[2] Kristin Neff, Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself (2011)
[3] Brené Brown, I Thought It Was Just Me (2007)