Alright folks, grab a drink ’cause today’s story is one of those “cringing while I type it” situations. Let’s talk habits – specifically, the awful one I caught myself doing without even realizing it. Total autopilot stuff.
The Realization Hit Me Like a Truck
I’d been doing this thing, right? Sitting at my desk, hammering away at the keyboard, or zoning out on the couch watching some garbage reality TV. My hand? Oh, it would just drift south, find its way into my pants pocket, and start rubbing this specific little worry stone I kept there. Smooth pebble, fits nice in the hand. Sounds harmless, maybe even therapeutic, yeah?
Wrong. Became like a nervous tick. Meeting running long? Rubbing it. Stuck on some code? Rubbing it. Waiting in line? You guessed it. Didn’t think twice about it. Until… my partner points it out one night, totally casual: “You playing with that rock again?” Felt like getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar. And then I started noticing. My pocket linings? Worn thin in one spot. My fingers? Constantly sore. Felt like a creepy magician fondling a prop. That’s when the shame kicked in hard. This little rock was controlling me way more than I was controlling it.
Operation Pocket Freedom Begins
I knew just throwing the rock away wouldn’t cut it. The urge was like a little demon whispering. Tried that before. So, here’s the battle plan I actually stuck with this time:
- Step 1: Out of Sight, Out of Trouble First thing the next morning, I took that damn rock out of my pocket. Didn’t toss it (weird attachment, I know), but stuck it high up on a shelf in my office. Somewhere I couldn’t just casually snag it.
- Step 2: Feeling the Trigger Seriously had to become a detective on myself. When did my hand sneak into my pocket? Boredom? Stress? Just sitting? Wrote it down like field notes: “Tuesday 3 PM, zoning out during Zoom call… hand wandering…”
- Step 3: Armed Replacement Tactics Knowing the triggers meant I could fight back. Kept a big, chunky stress ball right there on the desk where my hands usually rested when working. Reached for the pocket? Grabbed the stupid yellow ball instead and squeezed the hell out of it. Sitting on the sofa? Made sure I had something in my hand – a pen, the TV remote, a glass of water. Anything to keep the idle hand busy.
- Step 4: Pocket Security Went into my closet like a man possessed. Dug out those pair of old jeans with the teeny-tiny, near-useless front pockets. Made it physically awkward to jam my whole hand in there. Also wore my belt buckle slightly tighter. Just added friction, literally and figuratively.
Where I’m At Now
It’s been what, maybe three, four weeks? Not gonna lie, the first few days sucked. Felt like my hand had a mind of its own, twitching towards that empty pocket spot like a zombie reaching for brains. I caught myself halfway there way too many times. That squishy stress ball took a serious beating.
But slowly… things got easier. Fewer near-misses. Started leaving the stress ball on the desk more often cause I just… wasn’t needing it as much. Don’t feel that constant itch anymore. Saw the rock gathering dust on the shelf the other day and actually kinda laughed. Felt good.
Biggest takeaway? Sometimes you don’t even know how tightly a habit has its hooks in you until someone points it out or you step back and really look. Feels damn good to have my hands free again. Feels normal. That’s the win.
