The Quiet Comfort of Routines
Hello RoutineThere are two types of people on social media.
The first group somehow wake up at 5am, meditate, journal, drink a green smoothie made from ingredients I've never heard of, run 10k before breakfast, and still arrive at work looking like they've just stepped out of an advert for very expensive skincare.
The second group are watching those videos from bed while debating whether yesterday's hoodie is clean enough to wear again.
Then there's me... somewhere in the middle.
I genuinely do love a colour-coded calendar. My work diary is organised, my personal plans are colour-coded, and there is something incredibly satisfying about seeing a week mapped out. I also love a green juice. Just not every morning at 5am. More like once a week, or whenever Pret or Joey and The Juice reminds me they exist.
And as for those 5am starts? The only time you'll find me setting an alarm that early is for a work conference or an airport. If I'm voluntarily awake before sunrise, there had better be complimentary pastries or a boarding pass involved.
I've realised that social media often makes it feel like you're either living your life at 100mph or you've somehow failed. But most of us are somewhere in the middle. We have good habits, bad habits, ambitious weeks, lazy Sundays, and plenty of days where we're just trying to remember if we have hit our water target.
For years I'd scroll through these "perfect morning routine" videos thinking one of two things: How have they got their life so together? Or, more often, There's absolutely no way this is happening every single day.
But somewhere along the way, something changed.
I realised I actually do love routines. Not because I'm trying to become that girl. Because life has a habit of pulling the rug out from under you. Jobs change. Friendships change. Relationships change. Teams get restructured. Priorities move. One minute you feel like you've got everything under control, and the next you're eating your fourth takeaway of the week wondering where Tuesday disappeared to. The older I get, the less I see routine as discipline and the more I see it as comfort.
Some of my routines are tiny. Every week I see my personal trainer. Technically she's there to make me stronger, but she's also part therapist, part life coach and part cheerleader. She somehow knows I can lift heavier before I've even convinced myself I can. I'm usually mid-complaint when she's quietly adding more weight to the machine. Annoyingly... she's almost always right. I also have a weekly tennis lesson. I'm still waiting for the day I can consistently hit the ball somewhere near where I intended, but I love having something that's completely separate from work. Hopefully one day I'll actually become good enough that people willingly ask me to play. Until then, everyone is safe.
Working from home has created its own little rituals too.
Before I even think about opening my laptop, I spend 10/15 minutes walking on the treadmill. People always ask why I don't just go for a walk outside. Because that would require leaving the house before coffee, and I simply don't possess that level of optimism. Then comes coffee, only then am I emotionally prepared to face Outlook.
Some routines don't even feel like routines. Getting my nails done every month with my best friend before going for brunch. Swimming with a friend on the last Friday of every month before finding somewhere nice for dinner. Booking a spa every few months because, at some point, my brain needs to stop behaving like it's running seventeen tabs at once.
None of these things are particularly groundbreaking, but together they create a rhythm. And I think rhythm matters.
Hair Care
Nail Routine
Spa Day
Work Lift SelfieNone of these things are particularly groundbreaking, but together they create a rhythm. And I think rhythm matters.
Work has taught me that too. There will always be another meeting, another Teams message, another "quick question" that somehow requires a 45-minute conversation.
I've learnt to protect little parts of my day. Blocking out focus time. Actually leaving my desk to buy my favourite M&S salad instead of eating sweets until 3pm. Booking lunch with a colleague instead of convincing myself I'll eat while replying to emails. It's amazing how much calmer a day feels when it isn't just happening to you. I also think routines become more important because life doesn't always follow the timeline we imagined.
When you're younger, you quietly assume certain milestones will happen by certain ages. You'll meet someone. Buy a house. Have children. Feel like a proper adult.
And then one day you realise life isn't a checklist. Some people get married at twenty-five. Some at forty-five. Some never do. Some change careers three times. Some move countries. Some end up living lives they never could have predicted.
No one's journey looks quite like anyone else's. That's why I love having routines that belong entirely to me. They're not dependent on another person. They don't disappear if life changes. They're little anchors I can come back to. Of course, I don't think life should be planned down to the minute. Says the woman with the colour-coded calendar.
Some of my favourite memories have come from saying yes to a spontaneous dinner, booking a last-minute trip or staying out far later than I intended because nobody wanted the evening to end.
Life still needs surprises. I think the trick is knowing when to follow the plan and when to close the calendar and say yes to something unexpected. Because while routines give us stability, spontaneity is often where the best stories begin. Maybe that's what having your life together actually looks like. Not having every answer. Not ticking off society's timeline. Just creating a life with enough little rituals that, whenever everything else feels uncertain, you still know your way back to yourself.
I've realised routines don't have to look Instagram-perfect to be meaningful. They just have to work for you. Because maybe having your life together isn't about doing what everyone else is doing. Maybe it's simply knowing what helps you feel like yourself. And if that's enough for me, perhaps it can be enough for you too.