I stood in my kitchen last month, staring at a sink full of dishes I’d been avoiding all day. I hadn’t planned to let them pile up, but my morning routine had been disrupted, throwing off my entire day. Since I couldn’t do everything perfectly, I’d done nothing at all. The breakfast dishes led to lunch dishes led to dinner dishes, and now here I was, overwhelmed by a task that would have taken minutes if handled incrementally.
This “all or nothing” mindset has been my biggest enemy in establishing consistent habits. If I couldn’t do my “perfect” 45-minute workout, I’d skip exercise completely. If I didn’t have time to clean the entire bathroom, I wouldn’t wipe down even a single surface. The moment perfection became impossible, I’d abandon the effort entirely.
What I’ve slowly come to realize is that this mentality creates a dangerous feedback loop. When we think in binary terms—perfect execution or complete abandonment—we set ourselves up for a pattern of perceived failures. Each time we fall short of our idealized standards, we reinforce the belief that we’re somehow fundamentally flawed or incapable of maintaining good habits.
The antidote I’ve found is embracing what I call “imperfect consistency.” This means acknowledging that doing something, however small, is infinitely better than doing nothing. A five-minute walk when you don’t have time for your usual run. Reading two pages of your book when you’re too tired for a chapter. Washing just the forks when the whole sink is full.
I started applying this to my meditation practice, which I’d been trying (and failing) to establish for years. Instead of berating myself for not doing my “proper” 20-minute session, I decided that even 30 seconds of mindful breathing counted. Some days I’d do the full twenty minutes, other days just a minute or two—but the crucial difference was that I no longer had zero-days.
This shift from perfectionism to consistency has been transformative not just for my habits, but for my self-perception. I’m no longer someone who “can’t stick with anything.” I’m someone who shows up—sometimes fully, sometimes partially, but always in some capacity. And those small, imperfect actions have added up to more progress than my previous all-or-nothing approaches ever achieved.



