on curiosity and bad habits

asking questions is OP

I believe in following your curiosity like an arrow.

With the caveat that this is a newly adopted belief.

In life, I’ve often felt like I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going or even where I should be trying to go.¹

But recently, I’ve felt more in touch with my inner compass—in the sense that I’ve started asking questions. Genuine questions.

I used to marvel at the people who came up with questions on the spot—in interviews or class or upon meeting a new friend—they had to be faking it too, right? And then I unlocked my curiosity.

Then, I went on a date with a guy who told me he works through the questions he has via writing.

I liked this guy. He was cute and cool and interesting. And he never asked me out again. But since it’s transactional girl summer, I’ll look at the silver linings and learn.

—

Today, I transferred my running mass of Google tabs to list form. And I decided to write about them. One-by-one. Well really, just the one—today’s question:

How do you stop falling back into bad habits?

While on the toilet, an answer started to take shape…

1. Bad habits are only a symptom. You need to address the root cause.

But let’s start with the symptoms and work our way backwards.

Let’s say you tend to eat your feelings. Or pick at/bite your cuticles. Or stare into your little glowing box for no reason. Or all of the above in various permutations.²

What’s the root cause here?

Anxiety. And stress. From avoiding to-dos and procrastinating work projects. These weigh you down as you walk through life, like emotional Bala Bangles.

Sadness. Rumination. And self-flagellation for messing things up. In matters of the heart.

And all these forces—over-eating and skin-picking and mindless scrolling—sadness and regret and anxiety—encourage each other like an escapist circle jerk.

So next steps—what do you do?

Face the discomfort head on. Eat the frog. Do your f*cking work. That’s one down, which should make the next one a little bit easier. Take off weight where you can. Where you know how.

And after that? I don’t know.

Back on the toilet, I realized another part of the answer:

2. I just started my period.

And I knew it. I freaking knew it. Because any time I’m feeling weirdly emotional or hopeless or start crying in the middle of a game of Sorry, I’m probably about to start my period.

Anyways.

2. Sometimes the powers that be make it harder to stay on track.

Hormones. Bad luck. Etc. And in that case? You have to give yourself grace. It sucks, but it’s a reality of life. That’s just the way things go.

Waiting in line for the bathroom again³, trying not to pick at my fingers, I found the end in the beginning. Or, the beginning in the end:

3. Noticing. And then asking, “why?”

I.e., following your curiosity like an arrow.

Q: Why do I feel this need to peel back layers of my own skin?

A: It’s imperfect. If I pick and peel, I can remove the imperfection.

But it never ends. One imperfection leads to the next, slightly smaller imperfection. Until nothing is good enough and everything is grounds for reaping.

And it’s satisfying—to chew on that hard-earned, dried out piece of skin that no longer clings to me. But is it worth it? The instant gratification that begets raw, bloody fingers? When I could’ve waited out the healing process?

Maybe it comes down to decreasing your recovery period.

It’s not one step forwards, three steps back—it’s two steps forward, one step back—which is still a net positive. You’re still moving forwards. Just, slowly.

But slow can be good. Slow can be careful. And thoughtful. And sustainable.

And asking a question. Then answering the question. That’s a step forwards too. When two (or many) roads diverge in a yellow wood. The only thing to do is to notice—and then take a step forwards.

xx Audrey

1. i know, big whoop—isn’t this everyone??

2. this is theoretical, obviously.

3. i was drinking coffee, okay? let me pee in peace!