Building a Life, One Routine at a Time 4/12

A short time ago, my life appeared to be complete. A loving wife, a steady job, a startup gaining traction—on the outside, I was thriving, moving with purpose like everyone else. But one morning, I woke up, and the world felt wrong. Hollow. I felt as though I had entered a performance in which I was unfamiliar with my role. My life, which seemed so solid, was unraveling inside me, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Living with ADHD, I’d always battled a restless mind, but this was different. Responsibilities piled up like dirty dishes in the sink of my brain—bills, emails, investor meetings, and a dream I couldn’t let go of: writing a book. My “manuscript” was just a notepad of scattered thoughts, half-formed ideas that mocked me from my desk. Self-doubt was a constant companion, whispering, You’re failing at everything.  The pressure to keep everyone happy—my wife, my startup, and myself—was crushing. My book, once a spark of joy, felt like a punishment, a cruel reminder of what I couldn’t achieve.

That morning, sitting on the edge of my bed, I saw the chaos with sharp clarity. I couldn’t keep living this way, letting my days dissolve into avoidance and overwhelm. So I made a decision—small but radical for someone whose brain fights structure: Just do one thing.  I made my bed. That tiny act was a spark, a quiet rebellion against the noise and paralysis. From there, I built routines—simple, steady practices that anchored me. They didn’t just help me survive. They helped me create. They helped me finish my book.

Today, I want to share how routines became my lifeline, the science behind their power, and how you can use them to rebuild your life, one step at a time.

The Darkness Before the Dawn

Rewind to that hollow morning. I was trapped in a cycle of procrastination and self-criticism. Writing a book had been my dream for years, but sitting down to write was torture. My ADHD brain would spiral with negative thoughts, telling me that I’m not good enough. You have more important things to do. Such an approach will never work. So I’d distract myself—scrolling X for hours, binge-watching Netflix, refilling my coffee cup until I was jittery. I was in constant motion, yet going nowhere, doing everything but the one thing that mattered.

My days had no rhythm, no spine. Without structure, my responsibilities blurred—my startup, my marriage, my writing—and my dreams started to dissolve. One moment stands out, a low point I’ll never forget. I was set to meet a prominent UK investor for dinner, a man with major projects who could’ve catapulted my startup to the next level. It was a make-or-break opportunity. But the night before, I cancelled. I couldn’t leave the house, couldn’t face anyone. The weight of self-doubt and exhaustion had crushed me. I told myself I was just skipping a meeting, but it was bigger than that. Days later, I completely abandoned the startup, allowing fear and despair to triumph.

The accelerator manager messaged me, concerned. I sent a vague excuse, but I knew the truth: I wasn’t just avoiding a dinner. I was avoiding life. That was rock bottom. But rock bottom isn’t always the end—it’s often where something new begins. I realized that if I couldn’t control the big things—like whether my book would succeed or if I’d ever feel whole again—I could control one small thing. That’s where it started.

The Power of Routine

That’s when routines came in. I started small, knowing my ADHD brain needed simplicity to stick with it: making my bed each morning, brewing a cup of tea, and writing for just 15 minutes. At first, it felt futile. What could a made bed do against a mountain of doubt? But those small actions built a foundation. They gave me a sense of accomplishment, a foothold in the chaos. Soon, I added more: a 20-minute walk each afternoon to quiet my racing thoughts, an hour of nightly journaling to process my emotions, and a rule to stop scrolling social media after 9 p.m. These weren’t grand plans—just deliberate choices that reshaped my life.

Psychologically, routines are powerful because they create “habit loops,” as Charles Duhigg explains in The Power of Habit. A habit forms through a cycle of cue, routine, and reward. My morning tea was a cue to sit at my desk, writing was the routine, and the reward was a spark of progress. Over time, my brain craved that reward, making the routine easier. Studies show habits strengthen neural pathways in the basal ganglia, the brain’s hub for automatic behaviors, making routines feel effortless once established. Structure tames the chaos of a scattered mind, making routines feel effortless for someone with ADHD.

Carl Jung once said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate.” Routines helped me make my unconscious impulses conscious, steering my life toward a burning purpose inside. They also created freedom. It sounds odd—aren’t routines restrictive? But structure freed up mental energy. When I didn’t have to decide daily whether to write or walk, I had more room for creativity. Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi notes that routines and clear goals foster “flow,” a state of deep immersion. For me, flow was where my book took shape, where scattered notes became chapters.

Lessons Learned: Structure Creates Freedom

The biggest lesson? Structure isn’t the enemy of spontaneity—it’s the foundation for it. Without routines, my ADHD and emotions took control, leading to daily disruptions. Routines provided me with a solid foundation to rely on, even during moments of intense self-doubt. They didn’t erase the darkness, but they gave me a path through it. Each routine served as a barrier, safeguarding my dreams and warding off despair. Even when I failed, I knew I could get up and do the routine again.

This applies to anyone—whether you’re chasing a creative dream, navigating a tough season, or managing a restless mind. Routines aren’t about perfection; they’re about consistent progress. They’re a way to say, “I’m still here, and I’m moving forward.” That’s enough.

Actionable Steps: Build Your Own Routine

Ready to try routines? Here’s a simple, ADHD-friendly plan:

1. Start Small: Pick 2–3 tiny actions, like making your bed, drinking water, or writing for 10 minutes. Small wins build momentum without overwhelming you.

2. Anchor to a Cue: Tie routines to a time or event, like “after coffee” or “before dinner.” Cues help your brain remember, especially with ADHD.

3. Track Progress: Use a notebook or app to check off routines. Seeing a streak is motivating, but don’t stress if you miss a day.

4. Be Compassionate: If you skip a day, don’t spiral. Gently start again. The goal is consistency, not perfection, especially when your mind is racing.

Try this for a week. Notice how these small steps bring clarity and control.

A Nod to the Book

Routines transformed my book from a pipe dream to reality. Those 15-minute writing sessions grew into hours of focus. Walks sparked ideas for chapters. Journaling wove my emotions into the story. There were difficult days, but consistency carried me through. Without routines, my manuscript—now weeks from launch—wouldn’t exist. In my book, I share more stories and strategies on how small habits lead to big change, hoping to inspire you as much as they’ve inspired me.

Routines aren’t flashy, but they’re powerful. They took me from chaos to purpose, from doubt to pride. Start with one small action today if you're feeling stuck. Make your bed, take a walk, and write a sentence. Those steps could lead to a dream you thought was lost. Next week, I'll share how travel opened up new opportunities for me.

What’s one routine you’ll try this week? Share in the comments or on X, I’d love to hear!

This post is part of a 12-week series chronicling my journey from darkness to completing my book. Follow along every Monday for new stories, insights, and tips to inspire your own path. Want to stay updated on the book launch? Join my newsletter at themorph88.com or follow me on X @TheMorph88