“Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut, that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive.”

— Edith Wharton

Good habits create order in our lives.  We go to bed on time so that we are able to wake up in the morning and get to work on time.  We brush our teeth with regularity so that they remain healthy.  We eat on schedule and clean up behind ourselves in the kitchen so that our environment remains clean and orderly.  We bring in food and take out trash.  We do the laundry and mow the lawn.  When you think about it, there are a lot of habits that structure our days.

As we become older, it seems that we rely on habit more and more.  Maybe as our minds slow and our ability to make decisions in the moment becomes less, we make habits of our daily routines in order to be certain not to forget something important.  Longevity runs in my family.  My parents are now 88 and 89 years old, and they recently moved to an Assisted Living facility.  My mom has suffered from dementia for years, and the decision-making responsibility they once shared has fallen in Dad’s lap, along with the shopping, the banking, the errands, the cleaning, and the laundry.  Dad built their life during these difficult years on habits — habits that gradually dug a rut where there once was a trail.  As his own ability to manage even their habitual life declined, he found himself in a rut so deep that now he struggles to accept the new way of life that can ease his burden.

My grandpa died in 1983.  I remember my mom and dad struggling to help Grandma and Grandpa as they reached an age where they no longer could manage all their daily needs.  It was a difficult time for my folks.  Balancing respect for my grandparents and the demands of their own lives became a constant battle, and the solutions Grandma and Grandpa proposed were not even realistic.  They longed for the old days when their son and daughter still were at home; and at one time Grandma decided that her middle-aged kids and their spouses should come and live with them.  ”We could be a happy family.”  In the midst of all of this, my parents made a plan.  They reserved a spot in a three-tiered community — one with independent living apartments, assisted living apartments, and on-site nursing care.  They gathered my sisters, my brother, and me, and made us swear that when they reached a time where they needed more support that we would band together and insist that they follow their well-made plan.  Now that the time has come to carry it out, we are facing the same struggles our parents did, in spite of their good plan and loving intentions.

It struck me today that I am the same age now that my Dad was when his father died.  As I think of the way my grandparents struggled to find happiness in their later years, and as I watch my parents suffering the same sense of loss as their old life fades away and is replaced by new and unfamiliar things, I wonder whether this will be my own fate as well.  I look at the way my father’s habits became the foundation for his independence.  I look at how they subtly became a rut rather than a trail.  I look at how much easier it is for him to keep wearing down the floor of his rut as he paces back and forth than it is to expend all the energy required to climb out and walk on a different trail.  We can tell Dad that happiness lies on the new trail; but, to him, it feels like giving up all the things that have made him independent and real and human and respected.

I look at my own life as I sit here with the same perspective my father had when his elderly father created dilemmas for him.  I want to tell my children not to listen to me if I become my dad one day, but I have to admit that this method has fallen short.  Instead I think of the habits that lie on my own path.  Am I allowing parts of my life to become habitual when they really don’t need to be so structured?  Do I feel upset or derailed when my daily schedule varies from the norm?  I’m thinking that now may be the time to exercise my flexibility and keep it strong as I move into the last part of my life.  Now may be the time to purposely vary my schedule and not let my days become rigidly controlled rather than just managed by good habits.

On a retreat last Fall, I decided to engage any new activities that would come my way.  This meant that I stepped outside my own comfort zone and joined in a session of African dance.  My habit is to say, “I’m not very good at dancing…I think I’ll just watch.”  Instead, I got in line and did my best to be a part of the group.  I learned that day that African dance was not an activity that I would embrace; but I learned it by joining in, not by hiding in the depths of my rut.  As I watch my dad struggle with accepting changes, I can’t help but think that I should be approaching each day the way I approached that retreat.  I should make a practice of adding new activities into my life.  I should work at varying my schedule several times each week so that having dinner at 5:30 rather than at 5:00 will not become unsettling as my habits become more plentiful and my sense of security becomes more tied to sameness.

I think I’ll go now and decide what new thing I will explore today.  Maybe I will deviate from my usual route and walk in another direction.  Maybe I will get my groceries at a different store.  Maybe one day soon I will write my blog after lunch instead of in the early morning.  Good habits serve us well, but a sense of adventure and some flexibility can make us feel alive.  I plan to cultivate those things.  Maybe that will be the advice I give to my own children.