Press Restart
Photo by Patrick Von on Unsplash
When I was a kid, I would sometimes play simple videogames in which the objective was to keep a “streak” going for as long as possible.
I remember playing Space Cadet Pinball. The goal was to move the paddles at the bottom to hit the ball up and ensure it never fell into the “hole”. It was a game of timing and physics: the ball could go lots of different places and even rack up points from bouncing around in the game environment. It was always disappointing to rack up lots of points for minutes at a time, only to have the ball finally zoom into the “hole”, ending that session.
After doing that enough times, I would see a “Game Over” notice. I’d have to restart from zero and start a new points streak. Today, apps like Duolingo use the psychological technique of “streaks” to keep you engaged in learning each day (there’s a whole Ted Talk about the neuroscience of it). New York Times puzzles like Wordle and Connections use streaks, too, to gamify the act of returning to the game itself.
Losing a streak in a game can often be how it feels to build a habit, then let it lapse. It feels like doing really well at something on a continuous basis, then letting it go and eventually feeling like you lost at a game you were playing against yourself. You end up having no one to “blame” but yourself, too, and there’s often a feeling of shame that comes along for the ride.
At least, that’s how it can feel, if you’ve put a lot of pressure on yourself to make the habit work.
That’s how I felt last year when I realized I had accidentally dropped my daily journaling habit. I wrote on this blog last year about how I’d been writing down my thoughts and feelings every day because it helped me process them in a healthy way.
But then life got busy and I just…stopped.
It wasn’t something I meant to do, because I actually enjoy journaling; it keeps me grounded. It can just be hard to do it every day when it’s not high up on my priority list and when I have a higher expectation of myself than may be realistic. Journaling is such a simple practice, despite also being profoundly constructive, that it can easily slip out the window after a week of forgetting to pick up the notebook and pen.
This year I decided to “press restart” and begin the streak once more. Except I made a modification to make it easier to achieve my daily goal. In the same way a person who’s out of shape has to start working out with light weights and simple exercises, I had to start small with my journaling habit.
So instead of committing to write a page a day, I decided to write a paragraph (two or three sentences) a day, minimum. I thought, “I can write two or three sentences in less than a minute. And hopefully once I’ve written those sentences, I’ll be in the middle of a thought, and I can write more!”
I started January 1. And praise God, I’m still going!
So far, my journal entries have been barely more than short diaries. I write out significant things that happened or things I was thinking about throughout the day. And I’m done.
Sometimes I only make it halfway through the page. But I did it, and I’m glad I did! Usually, I’m so pleased I got it done that I can even ignore my terrible, fast-paced, semi-cursive handwriting (no, I have no plans to type or use a tablet and stylus—I don’t need my journal to be another screen).
One thing that has taken me far too long to learn: the less pressure I put myself under to get something done, the more likely I’m actually able to get it done consistently. Especially if the extra pressure was unnecessary in the first place and was only a result of my pride rearing its ugly head.
If my expectation is to write an entire page about my thoughts from the day, I’m far less likely to do the work on days I just don’t feel like it. If my expectation is to write a short paragraph, that’s something I can knock out in two minutes right before bed.
Now don’t get me wrong: I still want to take journaling further. I want to do the “daily inventory” of wins and losses that the recovery ministry I lead recommends.
The reason daily inventory is such a good practice isn’t just because it helps people in recovery stay sober: it’s because it helps them process the reality of their day and recommit to moving forward. It’s all about self-awareness, one of the greatest gadgets in any person’s mental health toolbelt.
I’ll get to a detailed daily inventory eventually. For now, I’m rebuilding a habit that I don’t want to see lapse again, because I don’t like the places my brain goes when my thoughts and emotions well up in my mind like stagnant bog water, causing anxiety and stress of all kinds.
I pressed restart. Now to keep the pinball paddles flapping—and of course, give myself grace and another chance if the ball falls in the hole!