For years, I ate the same kind of lunch almost every day.
It was easy, reasonably healthy and required very little thought. I knew what to buy. I knew how long it would take. And I like it well enough.
There was nothing wrong with the meal.
But one afternoon, I looked down at my plate and realised I hadn’t chosen it. I had simply repeated it.
That made me wonder how many other parts of my life worked the same way.
The comfort of repetition
We need routines. They reduce the number of decisions we make and help everyday life run more smoothly.
But a routine can continue long after it has stopped serving us.
We eat the same lunch. Take the same route. Spend weekends in the same way. Say yes to the same people. Keep doing what makes sense because we have done it for years.
Familiarity can feel like preference when we haven’t stopped to ask what we want now.
A small interruption
I didn’t reinvent my diet. I simply chose something different for lunch.
It felt surprisingly unfamiliar. I had to look at the options instead of reaching automatically. I had to notice what appealed to me. I had to make a decision.
The meal itself was not important. The act of choosing was.
Changing lunch reminded me that preference is something we have to keep checking. What suited us five years ago may no longer suit us today.
Where else am I living on autopilot?
That question followed me beyond the kitchen.
What do I still do because it is familiar?
Which routines genuinely support me?
A life can work perfectly well and still contain habits we have outgrown. We don’t always notice because nothing feels urgent enough to change.
Sometimes we need to interrupt something small before we can see the larger pattern.
A different choice
I still repeat meals. Convenience matters, and not every lunch needs to be interesting.
But now I occasionally stop before preparing the usual thing and ask:
Do I want this today, or am I choosing it because I chose it yesterday?
It is a simple question about lunch.
It is also a useful question about life.