A lapse doesn’t have to become a relapse. A reset doesn’t erase earlier progress. And a small, preplanned return can make beginning again much easier. You don’t have to start over. You only have to begin again from where you are.
[Title Photo by Anna Tarazevich]
A Need to Reset
Ellen had been writing every morning for almost four months. Nothing elaborate. She got up a little earlier than usual, poured a cup of coffee, and sat at her desk for thirty minutes.
Some mornings the words flowed easily. Other mornings she struggled to write a decent paragraph. But she showed up. And slowly, something wonderful began happening.
The collection of family stories she’d wanted to write for years was taking shape. Stories about her parents, her childhood, the family vacations that rarely went according to plan, and the little moments she didn’t want her grandchildren to forget.
She had written nearly forty pages.
Then her sister became ill. Ellen spent several days helping with appointments and errands. Her morning writing time disappeared. The following week, visitors came. Then came a busy stretch of volunteer commitments.
One missed morning became several. Several became a week. Then two weeks. Eventually, Ellen stopped thinking about writing altogether.
Until one morning, when she noticed the notebook sitting on her desk. She picked it up and turned through the pages. Forty pages. Four months of effort. And all she could think was, “I’ve let it slip away.”
She felt disappointed in herself. She had been doing so well. Now she’d have to start all over again.
Or would she?
The Difference Between Stopping and Starting Over
Have you ever had Ellen’s experience? You establish a helpful routine. You make progress. You begin seeing results. Then something interrupts you.
Perhaps it’s an illness, a family responsibility, a vacation, an unexpected project, or simply a week when everything seems to happen at once. You miss a day. Then another. Before long, the routine that once seemed so natural feels like something you used to do.
And now you face a decision. Do you begin again? Or do you quietly abandon the effort?
For many of us, the difficulty isn’t the interruption itself. It’s what we tell ourselves about it. “I’ve lost my momentum.” “I should have been more disciplined.” “I can’t seem to stick with anything.” “I’ll have to start from the beginning.”
But what if you don’t? What if the most important skill isn’t maintaining an uninterrupted streak? What if it’s learning how to return? That’s what I want us to explore today. Because a flourishing life doesn’t require a perfect record. It simply requires the ability to begin again.
A Lapse Is Not a Relapse
Several years ago, I wrote an article called “Reset.” In it, I described how a morning exercise routine I’d followed faithfully for months gradually disappeared. I skipped one morning. Then another. Soon I had missed a week, then two. Sound familiar?
One of the ideas I explored was the difference between a lapse and a relapse.
A lapse is a temporary departure from an intended behavior.
A relapse, in the broader everyday sense we’re using here, is a more sustained return to an old pattern.
The important point is that one missed day doesn’t have to become a permanent change in direction. Yet that’s often how we treat it. We miss a walk and decide we’ve ruined our exercise routine. We eat something outside our eating plan and conclude that the entire day is lost. We skip a writing session and begin questioning whether we’re really writers. One event becomes a judgment about the whole effort. And sometimes about ourselves.
That’s all-or-nothing thinking. Either we’re doing the practice perfectly, or we’re failing. Either we’re maintaining the streak, or the streak is broken and everything is lost.
But life rarely works that way. Missing one walk doesn’t erase the benefits of the walks you’ve already taken. Missing one writing session doesn’t make the pages you’ve written disappear. And missing a few days of a helpful habit doesn’t mean you’ve lost everything you’ve learned.
An interruption is an event. It doesn’t have to become your identity.
You’re Not Back at the Beginning
Let’s return to Ellen. She believed she’d have to start over. But consider what she still had. Forty pages of stories. A collection of memories she’d already recorded. Experience sitting down and writing regularly. A better understanding of how she worked. A comfortable writing space. And proof that she could maintain a writing practice for several months.
Had she lost momentum? Certainly. Might returning feel awkward at first? Probably. But had she returned to the person who hadn’t written a single page? Not at all.
That’s an important distinction. When we interrupt a helpful practice, we may lose some momentum. Depending on the activity and the length of the interruption, we may lose some conditioning or proficiency. But we don’t necessarily lose everything. Our experience remains. Much of our learning remains. Our previous accomplishments still count. We may even have gained new insights during the interruption.
Ellen’s time helping her sister, for example, reminded her how important family relationships were. That experience might eventually become part of the story she wanted to tell. The interruption hadn’t erased her progress. It had become part of her life. And her writing was supposed to reflect that life.
A reset doesn’t erase earlier progress. It gives us an opportunity to build on what remains.
The Problem With Starting Over
There’s something discouraging about the phrase “starting over”. It suggests that we’re returning to zero. That all our earlier work has somehow been canceled. That we must repeat the entire journey.
No wonder beginning again can feel so difficult. So perhaps we need a different way to think about it.
Imagine you’re taking a long walk. Halfway through, you stop to rest. You sit on a bench, drink some water, and enjoy the scenery. When you’re ready to continue, do you walk all the way back to your starting point so you can begin again? Of course not. You stand up and continue from where you are.
A helpful habit can work the same way. You may have stopped. You may need to regain your rhythm. You may even need to choose a different route. But you don’t have to pretend the earlier part of your journey never happened.
You don’t have to begin again from the beginning. You only have to begin again from where you are.
Returning Is a Skill
Here’s where we can take this idea a little further. We usually think of consistency as doing something repeatedly without interruption. And repetition certainly matters. But there’s another part of consistency that deserves attention.
The ability to return.
Consider two people developing a walking habit. The first walks every morning for three weeks. Then she misses a day. Disappointed that her perfect streak has ended, she misses another. Soon the habit disappears.
The second person also walks regularly. She misses a day because of an unexpected commitment. The next day, she takes a short walk. A few weeks later, she gets sick and misses several days. When she’s well enough, she resumes with a shorter, easier walk. Her routine isn’t perfect. But it continues.
Which person is developing the more sustainable practice? The second person has learned something important. She knows how to return. And the more often she practices returning, the more familiar that response can become. Instead of treating an interruption as a crisis, she treats it as something to respond to. That is a skill worth developing.
Make Returning Easier Before You Need To Do It
In my original “Reset” article, I introduced a technique called an implementation intention. The idea, associated with psychologist Peter Gollwitzer’s research, is straightforward. Instead of merely deciding what you want to do, you decide in advance how you’ll respond to a particular situation.
The format is: If this happens, then I will do that.
For example:
If I miss my morning walk, I’ll take a ten-minute walk the following day.
If I can’t complete my usual writing session, I’ll write one paragraph.
If my evening routine gets interrupted, I’ll return to it the next evening.
These plans remove some of the uncertainty from difficult moments. You don’t have to wait until you’re discouraged, tired, or frustrated to figure out how to respond. You’ve already made a decision.
This is particularly useful when developing habits because interruptions are inevitable. We can hope everything goes according to plan. But it’s wiser to prepare for the times when it doesn’t.
The Smallest Meaningful Return
Ellen had been thinking about resuming her thirty-minute writing sessions. But every time she considered it, she hesitated. Thirty minutes seemed like more than she could manage. She was still helping her sister, and her mornings weren’t as predictable as they’d once been.
Then she asked herself a different question: What’s the smallest thing I could do that would help me return to writing?
She decided to write one sentence. Just one.
The next morning, she sat at her desk, opened her notebook, and wrote: “I remember the summer we drove to the beach and Dad forgot the suitcase.” She smiled. That was quite a summer.
And suddenly she remembered another detail. Then another. Before she knew it, she’d written half a page.
The following morning, she wrote a few more sentences. Some days she wrote for thirty minutes. Other days she wrote for five. But she was writing again. Her return didn’t require recreating the perfect circumstances she’d enjoyed four months earlier. It required one manageable action. One sentence. One small beginning. And that was enough.
Sometimes the Plan Needs to Change
There’s another lesson in Ellen’s experience. Sometimes we need to return to a practice. Other times, we need to change how we practice it.
Her original thirty-minute morning routine had worked beautifully. But her circumstances had changed. She now had responsibilities that made some mornings unpredictable. She could insist on returning to the exact routine she’d followed before. Or she could create a version that fit her current life. She chose flexibility.
On mornings when she had time, she wrote for thirty minutes. On busier days, she wrote for five. Occasionally, she recorded a memory on her phone and transcribed it later. The form changed. The purpose remained. That’s an important distinction. We can become so attached to a particular routine that we forget why we established it.
Ellen’s purpose wasn’t to sit at her desk for exactly thirty minutes every morning. Her purpose was to preserve family stories. The routine was a means of accomplishing that. And when the routine no longer fit, she could change it without abandoning the goal.
Remain committed to what matters, but be willing to adjust how you pursue it.
Three Ways to Practice the Art of Beginning Again
Let’s turn these ideas into something you can use. The next time you find yourself drifting away from a helpful practice, try three simple steps.
1. Recognize the Interruption Without Judging Yourself
Start by describing what happened.
I haven’t walked for a week.
I haven’t worked on my project lately.
I’ve stopped following my evening routine.
That’s enough. You don’t need to add:
I’m lazy. I’m undisciplined. I never follow through.
Those statements don’t help you return. They simply make returning more difficult.
An interruption may be a signal that something needs attention. Perhaps your schedule has become overloaded. Maybe your plan was unrealistic. Perhaps your priorities have shifted. Or maybe life simply interrupted you.
Notice what happened. Learn what you can. Then move forward.
2. Notice What You Still Have
Before deciding you’ve lost everything, take inventory. What progress remains? What have you learned? What skills have you developed? What resources or support systems are still available? What parts of your earlier routine might still work?
Ellen had forty pages, several months of experience, and a meaningful purpose. You may have similar resources to build on. Perhaps you’ve lost some momentum. But momentum can be rebuilt. And rebuilding often becomes easier when you recognize that you’re not starting from scratch.
3. Decide on Your Smallest Return Step
Finally, ask: What’s the smallest meaningful action I can take to return?
Not the biggest action. Not the action that makes up for everything you’ve missed. The smallest meaningful one.
If you’ve stopped walking, take a short walk. If you’ve stopped reading, read one page. If you’ve stopped writing, write one sentence. If you’ve neglected a relationship, send a message. If you’ve abandoned a project, spend five minutes reviewing where you left off.
Then make a plan for the next interruption.
If I miss a day, I’ll take one small step the next day I’m able.
If my schedule changes, I’ll use a shorter version of the practice.
If I notice I’ve drifted, I’ll pause and choose one action that reconnects me with my purpose.
You don’t need a dramatic comeback. You need a way to return.
The Reset Button
Here’s a little story from the original Reset article.
Years ago, our television receiver stopped working. I tried everything I could think of. I pressed buttons on several remotes, became increasingly frustrated, and generally demonstrated how little patience I possessed for malfunctioning electronics.
Rebecca came over, calmly unplugged a wire, waited a few seconds, and plugged it back in. The system restarted. The television worked. I still wasn’t entirely sure which remote controlled what, but at least we could watch our program.
All it needed was a reset.
I’ve thought about that experience from time to time. And I think the analogy is even more useful now. When the receiver restarted, it didn’t forget everything it had ever done. We didn’t have to buy another television. We didn’t have to rebuild the entertainment system. We simply needed to restore its ability to function.
Sometimes our personal practices need something similar. Not a complete reconstruction. Not a declaration that everything we’ve done has been wasted. Just a reset.
A way to reconnect with what matters and begin moving again.
How Returning Helps Us Flourish
As we study the Excelerated Life™ practices, we’ve been exploring a question: How does this practice help me flourish in the life I’m actually living?
I think the art of beginning again offers a particularly helpful answer.
It lets us pursue meaningful goals without needing perfect circumstances. It gives us permission to be human. To have difficult days. To experience interruptions. To change our plans. To learn from mistakes. And to continue.
That’s important because flourishing doesn’t happen in some imaginary life where nothing goes wrong. It happens here. In the life we’re actually living. With responsibilities, relationships, surprises, limitations, and opportunities we couldn’t have predicted. A sustainable practice must have room for all of that. And learning how to return gives us that room.
What Have You Been Meaning to Return To?
Perhaps there’s something you’ve been wanting to resume.
A walking routine.
A writing project.
A friendship.
A spiritual practice.
A creative pursuit.
A commitment to better health.
A goal that once excited you but gradually slipped into the background.
Maybe you’ve been telling yourself you’ll return when things settle down. When you have more time. When you’re feeling more motivated. When you can do it properly.
But perhaps you don’t need to wait. Maybe you just need to start with something smaller.
One walk.
One paragraph.
One phone call.
One quiet moment.
One step.
Ask yourself: What matters enough that I want to return to it?
Then ask: What’s the smallest meaningful way I can begin again?
You may discover that the distance between where you are and where you want to be isn’t nearly as great as you imagined.
The Practice of Returning
Ellen eventually finished her collection of family stories. It took longer than she’d originally planned. There were additional interruptions. Some weeks she wrote regularly. Other weeks she barely wrote at all. But she’d learned how to return.
She no longer interpreted a missed session as evidence that she’d failed. She didn’t require herself to recreate the exact routine that had worked months earlier. She simply found a way to continue.
Sometimes that meant thirty minutes at her desk. Sometimes it meant five minutes. Sometimes it meant jotting down a memory while waiting for an appointment. And over time, those small returns added up. The pages accumulated. The stories took shape. And eventually, she had something meaningful to share with her family.
Not because she had maintained a perfect writing streak. But because she kept returning to something that mattered. That’s the lesson I hope you’ll carry with you. Progress isn’t always a straight line. Sometimes we move forward. Sometimes we pause. Sometimes circumstances require us to change direction. And sometimes we realize we’ve drifted away from something important.
When that happens, we have a choice. We can decide that the interruption means we’ve failed. Or we can recognize it as an opportunity to practice returning.
A lapse doesn’t have to become a relapse.
A reset doesn’t erase earlier progress.
And a small, preplanned return can make beginning again much easier.
So don’t wait for perfect circumstances. Don’t insist on recreating the past. And don’t assume that an interruption has canceled everything you’ve accomplished. You don’t have to begin again from the beginning. You only have to begin again from where you are.
Find your next small step. Take it. And when life interrupts you again, as it surely will, practice returning. Because the ability to begin again may be one of the most valuable habits you ever develop. And that’s how you practice your way to your Excelerated Life™!
Where has Life interrupted one of your important practices?
What small return step can you use to begin the practice again?
How could you take that step today?
Share your experience by leaving a comment below.
* * * * *
Ask better questions. Make better choices. Build better habits. Live an Excelerated Life™.
Excelerated Habits™ is the practice of intentionally building positive daily habits that make wise choices more automatic, support lasting growth, and help you consistently live your values. It is one practice for creating your Excelerated Life™, a life of flourishing and well-being, and a life of meaning, purpose, and service.
Read more about the Excelerated Life™.
_____
This blog post includes research information and suggestions provided by ChatGPT, an AI language model developed by OpenAI. The content was generated with AI assistance and is intended to provide information and guidance. Please note that the suggestions are not official statements from OpenAI. To learn more about ChatGPT and its capabilities, you can visit the OpenAI website.
_____
(Please NOTE: The material in this document is intended for informational and educational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional advice in medical, psychological, legal, or financial matters. The purpose of this article is to educate and inspire. Following the techniques, suggestions, or strategies presented does not guarantee success.)