5 Micro-Habits I’m Committing to in 2022

Why tiny habits lead to huge change

I’ve never been a fan of resolutions. I’m a tireless dreamer with lofty life goals, yet setting a resolution on the brink of the new year somehow feels daunting and unsustainable.

This year, I changed my approach. I went small.

As the first few months of the year unfolded, I paid close attention to how I was living each day and to the seemingly harmless habits that I wanted to change. “I don’t like that about myself,” I thought about a handful of things (well, let’s be honest, maybe two handfuls) and I’ve tried my hardest every day to practice changing them, one conscious action at a time.

1. Writing legibly (even when writing just for myself)

Although my loved ones will not hesitate to warn you that my cursive handwriting is far from legible with its elegant curves and ambiguous shapes, the truth is that I take great care to write well when I handwrite cards, notes and letters. Lately, though, I’ve noticed that my in-house handwriting — intended for my own eyes — has deteriorated big time. I never used to have to squint to decipher words I’d written in my journal, agenda or to-do lists! Fueled by impatience and mindlessness, I’ve let my handwriting mirror a state of mind I don’t want to have — one that’s rushed, frenzied and careless.

I’ve committed to slowing my pace when I scribble myself notes, even if no one else will see them. Don’t I deserve the same time and care I give to others? Any time I start spitting disjointed letters onto the page, I (sigh and chide myself and) remind myself that nothing is that urgent, that no one is chasing me, that I won’t forget my thoughts if I don’t take the 15 extra seconds to write like a proper human, and that my future self will surely thank me for the clarity. I concentrate and breathe through the action of patiently forming each of my words rather than watching my hand zip across the page, burdened by the thought, “I should have already been done writing this by now.”

2. Eating smaller portions

My relationship with food has become a complicated mess. I love to cook; it’s how I unwind. Conjuring up creative recipes and then photographing those dishes is one of my favorite hobbies. But, I live with endometriosis, an inflammatory condition that torments my digestive system, nervous system and immune system daily. It constantly taxes my mind with decisions of what (not) to eat and when (not) to eat, so as not to trigger a flare in chronic pain or intestinal discomfort. What we call “endo belly” is no joke; chronic bloating and weight gain often make me mourn my previously flat tummy that was able to digest almost anything.

Food itself has become an emotional trigger; holiday dinners and any gatherings where relatives bring over food I didn’t plan on serving (or eating) raises my anxiety a couple of notches. I recently noticed while sitting down for supper — what used to be the most relaxing part of my day — that my heart was a little faster and my pelvic muscles were extremely tight. I was stressed. I was stressed because I wanted to eat freely and I couldn’t. And that stress triggered stress eating. I tended to eat a lot, too quickly, with a tense body that was in fight-or-flight mode and a mind that felt guilty about my food choices.

I’ve committed to eating smaller portions at every meal. When I’m in the mood for something I probably shouldn’t have, like pizza or bread, I remind myself that I can have half or even a quarter. When it’s a meal I adore, especially during the holidays, I remind myself that there’ll be leftovers and that the cheese shop is not going anywhere anytime soon. Putting less food on my plate forces me to cherish every bite before it’s gone. I’ve been working hard to pace myself and to set my fork down between bites. I use that little break to b r e a t h e and check-in with myself. Are my muscles relaxed? Is my heartbeat calm? Have I looked at my love’s face at all, or just at the food under my nose? When I first started practicing this habit, I’d whine that I was still hungry. I’ve now started saying the words “I’m full” even though I’m not sure I am. I’ve happily discovered that how I eat is as important for my health as what I eat.

Losing weight or quitting gluten or going vegetarian are huge resolutions. Putting less on my plate feels like a manageable effort I can (try to) make every day.

3. Thinking “There is nowhere else I’d rather be”

I was the kid who’d ask my parents where we were going next before we had even arrived at our first stop. That restlessness was my defining trait for most of my adult life until my health begged for a little more space between my thoughts. Now, I remind myself (often) that slowing down is not missing out, that urgency is a toxic construct that has no root in nature’s laws.

Instead of finding stillness through meditation, I practice finding stillness while navigating life’s everyday chaos. If my mind races while I walk, worrying about everything I should do and quickening my step, I look up to consciously take notice of my surroundings. If something takes longer than I thought it would, I try very (very very) hard to tell myself it’s okay. It’ll take the time it needs to take. If I linger in bed on a workday because a warm kitten is nestled against me, I replace my guilt with gratitude. If I wonder with a touch of envy how strangers on Instagram are spending their day, I remind myself of my blessings. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Grounding myself in the present has always been challenging, but this tiny habit brings me just a little closer.

4. Keeping a glass of water at my bedside

My idea of hydration is drinking coffee and wine. Sadly, both have a dehydrating effect on the body. I’ve tried keeping a glass or a bottle of water on my desk as I work. I even bought myself a really cute pink stainless steel bottle that I love to drink from, but my motivation dwindled after a couple of days.

For now, I’ve committed to at least drinking one glass of water at bedtime and keeping a glass of water on my bedside table so I can drink it as soon as my feet land on the floor in the morning. That’s two more glasses than I was used to drinking, so it’s a win in my books. Baby steps.

5. Changing my relationship with winter

I am a sun-worshipper. In the summer, I am outdoors from morning ’til night, barefoot, freckled and lighthearted. It’s never too hot for my taste, even without air-conditioning. Unfortunately, though, I am like my garden. My flowers and plants thrive until late October, but when I bring in my pots for the long winter, they barely make it to spring. If they do hold on, they are nearly unrecognizable by May — scraggly and weird, distraught and resentful.

Winter blues don’t run in my family. No one wholeheartedly loves winter, but they were surprised when I finally confessed that the idea of hibernating for six months depresses me as soon as the page turns to November. Waddling in snow and slush jars my hips and lower back. Taking 20 minutes to layer up to go out for 20 minutes seems like a colossal misuse of time. When the sun sets at 4 p.m., a part of me screams and ages. I’d get dizzy from blindingly white snow when I’d finally venture out after hiding indoors for days in a row.

This year, in response to my November angst, a friend told me, “There is no such thing as cold weather, only bad clothes.” So I went on a shopping spree to upgrade my winter gear. I vowed to embrace the winter in whatever small, daily, manageable way I could.

I became a member at the indoor pool, which motivated me to walk 20 minutes each way — snow, ice or shine — to enjoy an hour of swimming. I shoved those little warmers into my mittens and boots and went on long nature walks on trails near our rental cottage in the mountains. I played in the snow like my five-year-old self would, occasionally shrieking, “Look! I’m doing winter!”

These tiny changes have already had a tremendous impact on my mindset, mood, and health over the last few months. It’s a constant practice and I am far from perfect, but the effort feels rewarding and sustainable. They may not have seemed like life-altering resolutions when I committed to them, but they have definitely bettered my everyday life in unexpected ways.

What micro-habits can you commit to this year? I would love to know what you’d like to practice changing and how it’s going so far.

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