atomic habits and some true confessions.

A friend recently bought me a copy of the book Atomic Habits by James Clear, because she knew I wanted to read it. So I’ve spent the past month noticing and taking stock of my habits.

 

 

Because I can be a tad negative, I first made a list of some of my good habits:

Reading (both alone and to my kids)
Tidying up the house
Cooking dinner most nights
Folding laundry
Being friendly
Reading my Bible each morning.

Additionally, I have two major habit victories from the past few months: getting in shape, and eating healthier. I still can hardly believe I’ve stuck with those large shifts because they’re very unlike me, and I’m pausing a moment to celebrate!

And now, here are some of my bad habits:

Wasting time online
Impulsive purchases
Not updating our budget
Speaking before thinking (especially when I’m frustrated)
Consuming rather than creating (e.g. not writing regularly, no more photography)
Complaining
Not having a regular prayer time
Not training my dog

I really like James Clear’s book. Be forewarned: it’s very self-helpy (each chapter starts with an inspiring story, on to the principle of the chapter, then some practical advice followed by a bullet-point summary), but I don’t mind that so much because Clear is blessedly concise. And I appreciate his suggestions for how to forsake bad habits and develop better ones. They make sense to me.

Of course the entire list above is one I’m contemplating but the one I want to talk about here and now is the writing piece.

Because I miss it. Both writing in my daily journal, and writing here on the blog.

But this brings me to my wasting-time-online habit. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve opened my laptop to start a new blog post — even got so far as editing and uploading pictures for my September and October posts — and then become totally derailed. By what, you ask? Texting (why oh why did you do it, Apple? Why sync our texts with our laptop?). Instagram. David’s Facebook. Pinterest. Ads in my email inbox for stores where I like to shop.

Before I know it twenty or thirty minutes have passed, it’s time to jump up for the next part of my day with nothing to show for that time but a general feeling of ickiness, and worst of all, I have zero inspiration to write. To create.

This sad scenario has repeated itself more times than I care to admit.

I’m tired.

I see many, many benefits of owning a smartphone and access to the internet. But I have a very dissatisfied relationship with both at the moment. I almost daily wish I could chuck my phone in the river and buy a flip phone instead. However, I feel like that may solve one problem only to create a dozen others.

I loved my time back on Instagram in 2022 for these reasons: keeping up with old friends, out-of-town family, friends at church whose path doesn’t cross mine regularly, inspiration for homeschool and motherhood and plants.

But at the same time, I’m tired of so many voices. Many of them great voices! Voices that tell me how to grow closer to God and remove mealy-bugs from my pothos and create healthy sheet pan dinners and train my dog to stop jumping on people and creatively teach my children about the Native peoples of our region of the United States.

There’s just too many voices. I’m paralyzed by the onslaught of good advice! So I’ve bookmarked a dozen profound posts but somehow there are still mealy-bugs on my house plants and my dog jumps on people. And my kids decidedly do not know about the Native peoples.

More than the voices, I’m so very tired of being advertised to. Incessantly. Unavoidably. On social media. In my email inbox. On my husband’s Facebook account (David always tells me he can track which websites I’ve been nosing about on because of the ads he starts seeing).

And I’m ashamed that the incessant advertising actually works. I click the links. I want the buttery-soft workout leggings or the 90’s throwback Birkenstock clogs or the slouchy boho throw pillows. Even when I don’t click the links or buy anything I’m thinking about buying all.the.things. The things I don’t have. How I’d look cuter with straight leg jeans and more bracelets, or that my living room really would would feel cozier with another basket and a splash of mustard yellow somewhere.

Ugh.

I’m tired of craving the shiny world on my phone better than my actual life.

James Clear says one of the best ways to break a bad habit is to make it difficult or painful. So I’ve decided to do both.

Today I deleted my Instagram and Poshmark accounts. I stripped my phone of Amazon and Target and all apps I don’t need for daily life.

I’m feeling a little low about all this. I’ll miss Instagram. Sometimes I’ll feel left out in conversations with friends. But truly, I tried other options. I’d keep the app off my phone for days at a time. I even had Judah change the password so I could only sign in if he did it for me (I consider it shameful but a victory nonetheless that my teenagers have better phone habits than their mom).

If you have any advice about how to develop better texting boundaries, please let me know because I still seem to check my phone entirely too much.

But baby steps.

I want to create again. I want to write. Maybe even dust off my camera and take pictures. Or better yet, teach Amie to use it, since she wants to learn.

Please know I’m aware of the utter irony of being one more voice that clogs your inbox or takes time away from you creating. And if you’re feeling that overwhelm, you have my full support in unsubscribing. I know blogs aren’t even fashionable anymore. I’m tired even of hearing that on the internet over and over! Who cares? People don’t have to read blogs. I personally still enjoy them. The reading and the writing. And I’m saddened that most of my favorite bloggers have turned to Instagram (which apparently, is no longer fashionable anymore either).

I’m forty years old and decided I’m exhausted by trying to keep up with what’s trendy at the moment, whether its home decor or social media platforms or clothes. I just want to enjoy my life and be free.

And what I do know that this quiet little corner of the internet brings me joy, allows me to work at the craft of writing while recording our everyday family moments. As with Atomic Habits, it gives me a chance to turn what I’m consuming into something I’m learning, something that makes a difference — in my own life, and just perhaps, in someone else’s.

My thirty minutes are up.

It’s a victory!