I finally figured out that routines are not schedules
Why this autistic person prefers routines to schedules
(I use the word routines a LOT here. Fair warning.)
Growing up, I thought I knew what routines were but I was mistaken. I confused them with its close cousin, schedules, who made me create weekly calendars that I followed for, at most, a semester. Before abandoning my schedule, I always felt organized. I wrote down times to strictly follow. Even free time was scheduled.
And routines ran silently in the background, keeping the day flowing from one class period to the next until I left the school building and headed home. Routines gave my school day structure but I thought schedules were the key.
Eventually, making schedules overwhelmed me. Once school finished, my work schedule changed frequently. I made new calendars to plan out the week but the sight of the multiple time blocks made my stomach clench. All those obligations took up too much space in my day, in my head. I crumpled the pages and threw them away, telling myself “I remember anyway, it’s okay. I don’t need to make a schedule.” (Definitely not true)
I read so many articles about how to make schedules less overwhelming. My research led to YouTubers writing task lists in bullet journals and covering thick planners with stickers. I tried these and started off fine…until it became too much. I was too exhausted from my schedule demands to make my tormentor aesthetically pleasing. It was a lot to write an ever-growing daily task list. I tried apps and also abandoned them after a while.
The few routines I did have continued running in the background, like in the mornings when I decided to make movement a priority. And when my schedule got in the way, changing the place, the activity, or the time of movement, it was okay. Routines could happen earlier or later; they’re flexible that way.
And I slowly figured out why routines are better for me. Getting diagnosed as autistic with ADHD accelerated this understanding process.
I imagine that schedules use time as discrete minutes and hours and days and these fill up too easily when planning activities. But routines use time as sections of life: the morning, the meal, the bedtime. Routines package up so many pointy demands and create one easier-to-handle activity chunk that doesn’t make me want to throw my calendar in the trash.
I can think about “the morning routine” easier than thinking about each separate action that needs to be done in the morning. And if a day is too short a unit of time for a routine, I can use a week. If a week still feels too short (like I’m cramming too much activity into a too small time frame), I can create a monthly routine.
And it’s fine!
Routines work with whatever section of time I can handle.
For example, if cleaning doesn’t fit in my daily routine, it fits in a weekly one. And then I use the routine of putting things back where I found them, and ta-da! Easier to clean home.
Routines don’t require a specific length of time either. If my one-hour movement practice scheduled for the morning feels too overwhelming, I can make it shorter. 5 minutes or 50 minutes doesn’t matter; it’s still part of the routine.
So have I stopped using schedules in my life? No, I will always need them because some obligations have a definite time and deadline. I can’t completely avoid them.
But!
I have easily shortened routines for those days when I wake up late and have to be somewhere at a certain time.
And I have routines for when an unexpected event tears my schedule into unrecognizable minutes and I’m left walking in circles, wondering what to do now. At those times, a routine reminds me what part of the day I’m in and keeps me grounded.
And sometimes I just can’t do anything for a while and my schedule is open, so I lie on the floor reading, content that my evening routine will be ready whenever I am.
(Has the word routines lost all meaning for you now, too?)
Read more thoughts on being autistic here