The Consistency Paradox
Let's be honest, we all like to think of ourselves as being uber-consistent because we understand and recognise that consistency is like the foundation of a house. Without it, the house isn't stable. It's that foundation that holds everything else up.
If consistency is so important, why do so many of us struggle to maintain it across all areas of our lives?
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I've come to the conclusion that if something isn't automated, it often doesn't happen. Think about Direct Debits. Without them, it would be easy to miss a bill because we'd be completely reliant on our own motivation to remember and complete the task. And this is where I think the issue lies.
Our lives aren't linear; they're fluid. We're essentially riding different waves every day. Any number of factors can affect us at any given time, meaning even the best intentions can go out of the window. But when a task is automated, or put on autopilot as part of a routine, it just gets done. Even if something happens and it can't be completed at the usual time, your brain somehow registers it as essential, and it still finds a way to happen.
This is why, if we are people who pay our bills, keep our homes clean, take out the bins, do the food shop, and get to work on time, we naturally see ourselves as consistent. In those areas, life runs like a system.
But then why is it that in other areas we can appear to be so inconsistent? We can be ad hoc with replying to texts, exercise only when it suits, or constantly delay things like posting birthday cards. And yet the “essential” parts of life still run like a tight ship.
I think the answer lies in the fact that these other things feel like optional extras. Does it really matter if I don’t go for that long walk I planned? It’s only a text, I’ll reply later. And it’s 2026—do people even send birthday cards anymore anyway?
I’ve noticed this in myself quite a lot. I’ll go out for a walk with the intention of making it part of my routine, but if the day feels slightly off or I’ve got something else going on, it’s the first thing to get pushed. Then I’ll realise a week has gone by and I haven’t done it once. Not because I don’t value it, but because I’ve not made space for it. Nothing in my system is actually forcing it to happen in the same way other parts of my life are.
The problem is that optional things are easy to opt out of because the impact isn’t immediate. One missed walk doesn’t matter. Neither does two or three. But over time, we quietly stop doing the things that actually support our wellbeing.
The same happens with relationships. We don’t reply to a message and tell ourselves, “They know what I’m like.” But repeated enough times, that small delay becomes distance. Not because we don’t care, but because we’ve treated connection as optional rather than essential.
The real distinction isn’t that some things matter and others don’t. It’s that some things are treated as non-negotiable, and others aren’t. And that difference shapes our behaviour more than our intentions do.
So what’s the answer? It’s about re-evaluating the optional extras—exercise, friendships, visiting family, showing up for people—and deciding which of them actually deserve to be treated as part of the structure of our lives, not just add-ons when we have energy left over.
And it isn’t that we don’t care, but rather that we haven’t fully evaluated the impact of inconsistency. So we need to look at everything through a new lens and see if there are ways to properly value those things more highly than the other stuff, and then automate them too.
Because when something matters, it can’t just live in intention. It has to be built into the system.
Consistency, then, might not be about being disciplined in every area of life. It might be about deciding, very deliberately, what you refuse to leave to chance.