Chaos Is a Routine Too: Let’s Make Yours Kinder

I’ve been thinking a lot about routines since we last chatted. Specifically, how our brains crave them because routine is expected and, therefore, comfortable. Evolution baked this in: routines save energy. If I don’t have to decide what to wear because I only own one loincloth and a coconut bra, I’ve got more brainpower for taking down a mastodon to feed my tribe.

Before you click away thinking, “My life is chaos, there is no routine, she’s not talking to me,” stick with me for one more paragraph.

Routines don’t have to be big, planned, orchestrated things. Most are organic and passive. When my spouse isn’t on tour, he handles grocery shopping, cooking, and dishes; I do the house admin and shared laundry. We never sat down to negotiate it, it just happened when it made sense. If your life feels chaotic, chaos may actually be your routine. You didn’t plan it; it grew in on its own. Not sure? Sit down on the couch to “rest” and notice the immediate jolt of panic that you’ve forgotten something crucial. Gotcha, chaos is, at least partially, your routine. (Lovingly, from a reformed couch panicker.)

If a routine of chaos truly works for you and causes no distress, carry on. Some people thrive there. But if your routine lack of routine is causing discomfort (or outright pain) let’s adjust. We have more agency than we give ourselves credit for, especially when we feel like we’re drowning.

I’ve found the easiest place to start is the evening. School and work have wrapped, and you know sleep is coming at some point (shift workers who flip days and nights: I see you, and we’ll talk about that in a couple of weeks).

Start by daydreaming your ideal evening. Mine looks like this: silent drive home to decompress and shift out of “work mode.” A very hot, very long shower. Comfy clothes (or straight to pajamas if it’s just been a day). Dinner and kitchen reset. Then TV or video games until 8:30 p.m. I’m in bed to read for thirty minutes, then a sleep meditation, lights out by 9:00 p.m. Take a minute and sketch your ideal evening. A scrap of paper is perfect.

Next, look at the distance between today and that ideal. If you want “turn off my brain time” between work and home, experiment with silence in the car. If that doesn’t work, try a different route for novelty. If that still doesn’t help, keep tinkering until you feel the separation you’re craving.

If you want to be asleep by 9:00 p.m. but your kids are joyful banshees until 9:15, adjust the plan. Ask your partner to run point so you can turn in at nine (it’s teamwork, not shirking responsibility), or commit to getting in bed immediately after the chaos settles instead of “decompressing” with Netflix until 11:00. Once you name what you want, it’s easier to make small moves toward it. Then—and this matters—credit yourself for progress and tweak again. Chase better, not perfect.

Two secrets:

1. Tweak, don’t overhaul. The grand vow (“I’m exhausted, so you’re all on your own for dinner; I’m going to bed at a time earlier than I’ve had in 20 years”) is unlikely to stick and becomes fuel for future self-criticism.

2. You cannot control other humans (or housepets). Plan for that. Create routines that absorb interruptions. If your new puppy wakes you up every night at 1:00 a.m., plan the response: “When the puppy wakes, I’ll let him out, make tea, then go back to bed.” If he sleeps through the night, bonus. If not, you had a plan that reduced distress and could be repeated until he becomes a reasonable creature who sleeps through the night.

Your next step

Pick one micro-tweak for tonight, something you can do in five minutes or less:

  • Put your phone to charge in another room before you start your bedtime routine.

  • Choose tomorrow’s clothes while the kettle boils.

  • Set a “lights out” timer for the time you actually want to be asleep (then work backward by 30 minutes to start winding down).

  • Put a book on your pillow right now.

Then run that same micro-tweak for seven nights. No overhauls, just one tiny lever. At the end of the week, ask: “Did this help? Do I want to keep it, tweak it, or trade it?”

If you want company and accountability, click here for my 1-Page Evening Routine Starter (micro-tweaks menu + a 7-night tracker). If you’re craving deeper change with a teammate who gets physician life, you can also book a coaching consult. We’ll design a routine that respects your real constraints while giving you some ease.

Pulling small levers. Repeated with curiosity and self-compassion. That’s how we build a life that feels more like support and less like survival.

Next
Next

Big Autumn Energy (Even If It’s Fake Fall)