Chapter 13: Slips, Lapses and Starting Again

One Missed Week

Corinne is forty-two and works as a supervisor in a call centre that handles bookings for a chain of hotels. At the start of the spring, she began walking for half an hour every evening after dinner. She followed many of the ideas in this book: she chose a consistent cue, putting on her shoes as soon as she cleared the table; she started with a manageable distance; she walked with a neighbour twice a week. For six weeks, she walked almost every evening, and it began to feel natural.

Then Corinne went away for a week to visit her sister, who lived in another part of the country. Her sister's routine was different, the weather was rainy and the evenings were full of family gatherings. Corinne did not walk at all that week. When she came home, she felt tired from the journey and told herself she would start again the next day. The next day, she was busy. The day after, it rained. By the end of the second week, she had not walked for fourteen days.

Corinne felt a heavy sense of failure. She had been doing so well, and now she had thrown it all away. "I always do this," she told her neighbour. "I start something, I keep it up for a while and then I let it slip. I have no discipline." Her neighbour asked whether she would like to walk that evening. Corinne said no. She felt that there was no point. She had already failed.

A few days later, Corinne's neighbour knocked on her door with her walking shoes on. "Come on," she said. "One walk. That is all." Corinne reluctantly agreed. They walked their usual route. To Corinne's surprise, it felt easy and familiar, as if her legs remembered the way. When she got home, she realized that the two missed weeks had not destroyed her habit. They had only paused it. What had nearly destroyed it was her belief that missing them meant she had failed.

Slips back into old habits, or breaks in new ones, are a normal part of changing behaviour. Almost everyone experiences them. What research suggests, and what Corinne discovered, is that the way we respond to a slip often matters more than the slip itself. This chapter looks at what science says about lapses, and how to respond to them in a way that helps us start again.

A Lapse Is Not a Relapse

Researchers and clinicians who study behaviour change, especially in the context of helping people with difficult habits, often make a distinction between a lapse and a relapse. A lapse is a single slip: one missed day, one evening back in an old habit, one occasion when the plan did not work. A relapse is a full return to the old pattern, abandoning the change altogether. A lapse does not have to become a relapse. But it often does, and the reason is usually not the lapse itself, but how the person interprets it.

When people experience a lapse, many of them think in an all-or-nothing way. "I have broken my plan, so I have failed. I am the kind of person who cannot change. There is no point in continuing." This kind of thinking turns a small, temporary slip into a large, permanent defeat. Corinne's thoughts after her missed weeks followed exactly this pattern: she had missed some walks, so she had "thrown it all away".

Researchers studying people who were trying to eat less found a related pattern. Some people, after eating something they believed broke their plan for the day, went on to eat even more, as if the day were already ruined and there was no reason to hold back. A small slip led to a much larger one, not because of hunger, but because of the thought that the plan was broken anyway. Something similar seems to happen with many habits: the feeling of having failed can lead to giving up altogether.

This all-or-nothing thinking is understandable, but it does not match how habits actually work. As we saw in Chapter 4, research on habit formation suggests that missing an occasional day does not seriously damage the process. And as we saw in Chapter 8, old habits and new ones exist side by side in the brain, so a return to an old habit does not erase the new one. Corinne's walking habit was still there after two weeks, ready to be picked up again. The slip had paused it, not destroyed it.

Understanding this can change how we respond to lapses. Instead of "I have failed", we can think, "I have slipped, and slips are normal. The habit is still there. I can return to it now." This small change in thinking can be the difference between a lapse and a relapse, between pausing a habit and abandoning it.

Kindness or Criticism?

When people slip, they often respond with harsh self-criticism. "How could I be so weak? I always do this. I am hopeless." Many people believe that being hard on themselves will motivate them to do better. Research on how people respond to setbacks suggests that this may not be true, and that kindness toward oneself may work better.

Psychologists who study self-compassion, which means treating oneself with the same kindness and understanding one would offer a good friend, have explored how it affects people after setbacks. Some studies have suggested that people who respond to their mistakes with self-compassion, rather than harsh self-criticism, are more likely to take responsibility for the mistake and to try again. In one study, people who had just eaten something they considered unhealthy, and who were then encouraged to be kind to themselves about it, went on to eat less in a later task than people who were not given this encouragement. The research in this area is still developing, and the effects vary, but the general direction of many findings is encouraging.

Why might kindness help? One possible explanation is that harsh self-criticism makes setbacks feel threatening and shameful. When we feel ashamed, we tend to want to avoid thinking about the thing that made us feel that way, including the habit we were trying to build. Self-compassion, by contrast, makes setbacks feel normal and manageable. It allows us to look honestly at what happened without being overwhelmed, and to return to our efforts without fear.

It is important to say that self-compassion is not the same as making excuses or not caring. A self-compassionate response to a lapse still acknowledges that something went wrong and still intends to do better. The difference is in the tone. Harsh criticism says, "You are hopeless." Self-compassion says, "That was a slip. It happens to everyone. What can you learn from it, and when will you start again?"

A simple test can help. After a slip, imagine that a good friend had made the same slip and told you about it. What would you say to them? Most people would not say, "You are hopeless, you always do this." They would say something like, "Do not worry, everyone slips. You have been doing really well. Just start again tomorrow." The research on self-compassion suggests that offering ourselves the same words may be one of the most practical things we can do after a lapse.

Corinne's neighbour, without knowing the research, showed her a kind of self-compassion from outside. She did not scold Corinne or tell her she had failed. She simply invited her to take one walk. This gentle invitation did what Corinne's harsh self-talk could not: it brought her back to the habit. Over time, Corinne learned to give herself the same gentle invitation, rather than waiting for her neighbour to knock.

Bart and the Party

Bart is fifty and works as a sales manager for a company that sells office furniture. For several months, he has been trying to stop eating snacks late in the evening, a habit that had developed during a stressful period at work. He had made good progress, using some of the ideas in this book: keeping snacks out of the house, replacing the late snack with a cup of herbal tea and going to bed a little earlier.

Then Bart went to a friend's birthday party, where there was a table full of snacks. He ate a lot of them, late into the night. The next morning, he felt terrible, not only physically, but because he felt he had ruined months of effort. His first thought was, "Well, I have ruined it now. I might as well give up." That evening, he bought a large bag of crisps on the way home, thinking that he had already failed, so it did not matter.

Halfway through the bag, Bart stopped and recognized what he was doing. He had read about the all-or-nothing thinking that turns a lapse into a relapse, and he realized that he was in the middle of it. The party had been one evening. It was not a disaster. But his response to it, buying more crisps because he felt he had failed, was turning one evening into a pattern.

Bart put the bag away. He made himself a cup of herbal tea, as he had been doing for months, and he said to himself, kindly, "The party was a party. People eat at parties. It does not undo months of good habits. Tomorrow, I go back to my routine." The next evening, he did. Within a few days, his habit was working again.

"I nearly threw everything away because of one party," Bart says. "Not because of the party, but because of what I thought about it. Once I stopped calling it a failure, it was just an evening." Bart's story shows how quickly a lapse can start to become a relapse, and how recognizing all-or-nothing thinking can stop it. It also shows the value of planning for special occasions, which Bart now does: before a party, he decides in advance that he will enjoy it and return to his routine the next day.

There is a useful lesson here about the difference between the slip and the story we tell about it. The slip was a few hours at a party. The story was "I have ruined months of effort." The slip did little harm on its own. The story very nearly did a great deal more. Many people find that, after a lapse, the most helpful question is not "How bad was it?" but "What story am I telling myself about it, and is that story true?"

Mariela and the Language Practice

Mariela is twenty-nine and works as a nurse's assistant in a care home. She is learning a second language, because she hopes to work in a hospital where many patients speak it. She has been practising for fifteen minutes every morning on the bus to work, using a small book and recordings. For three months, she practised almost every day, and she was proud of her progress.

Then Mariela had a very difficult month. Her mother was ill, she was working extra shifts and she was exhausted. She stopped practising. When things calmed down, she felt reluctant to start again. She had forgotten some of what she had learned, and she felt embarrassed and discouraged. She told herself that she was not good at languages after all.

Mariela's teacher, whom she saw once a week in a community class, noticed her absence and sent her a kind message. "Life gets busy," the teacher wrote. "Everyone takes breaks. Come back when you can. You will remember more than you think." Mariela was touched, and she went to the next class. She was surprised to find that, after a short review, much of what she had learned came back quickly.

Mariela also made a plan for future difficult periods. Instead of stopping completely, she would do a much smaller version of her practice: two minutes of listening to a recording, instead of fifteen minutes of study. This tiny version, like the ideas in Chapter 11, could survive even very busy weeks. If she missed even that, she would simply start again as soon as she could, without blaming herself.

"I used to think that if I stopped, I had failed," Mariela says. "Now I know that stopping is part of it. The important thing is starting again."

Mariela noticed something else when she returned. The weeks away had not only paused her habit. They had also given her a chance to see how much she valued it. During the hard month, she had missed the quiet fifteen minutes on the bus, the small sense of progress and the pleasure of understanding a new word. Returning to the habit felt less like a duty and more like coming home. Lapses, seen in this light, can sometimes remind us why a habit matters. Mariela's story shows two helpful responses to lapses: a kind, encouraging voice, from her teacher and later from herself, and a plan for keeping a small version of the habit going during hard times.

Aurora After the Hospital

Aurora is seventy-one. For years, she had a set of daily habits that kept her healthy and happy: a morning walk, a short exercise routine her doctor had recommended, a weekly visit to the library and regular phone calls with her grandchildren. Last winter, she fell and broke her wrist, and she spent a week in hospital and several weeks recovering at home. During this time, all her habits stopped.

When her wrist had healed, Aurora found it hard to restart. She felt weaker than before and lacked confidence. She worried about falling again. The habits that had once been automatic now seemed like large tasks. She spent most of her days indoors, and she felt low. Her daughter noticed and was concerned.

Aurora's doctor, at a follow-up appointment, encouraged her to rebuild her habits gradually, starting with very small steps, and gave her guidance about what was safe for her. The doctor also told her something that helped. "Your habits are not gone," she said. "Your body and brain remember them. You do not have to build them from nothing. You only have to start them again, slowly."

Aurora began with one habit: a short walk to the end of her street each morning, with her daughter at first. After a week, she walked a little further. After a few weeks, she restarted her exercises, in a gentler form. She called her grandchildren again. After two months, she went back to the library. Each habit, once restarted, came back more easily than she had feared, as if it had been waiting for her.

"After the hospital, I felt as if I had lost my whole life," Aurora says. "But it was just paused. I needed to start one small thing, and then another." Aurora's story shows that even long breaks in habits, caused by illness or other life events, do not erase them. Restarting gently, one small habit at a time, with appropriate guidance, can bring them back. If low mood after an illness or injury lasts for a long time, it is wise to talk with a doctor or another qualified professional, as Aurora did.

Practical Steps: Responding to Lapses

The first step is to expect lapses. When you start a new habit or try to change an old one, assume from the beginning that you will slip sometimes. This is not pessimism. It is realism. Expecting lapses makes them less shocking and less likely to turn into relapses.

The second step is to notice all-or-nothing thinking. When you slip, listen for thoughts such as "I have failed", "I always do this", "I might as well give up". These thoughts are the bridge from a lapse to a relapse. When you notice them, name them: "This is all-or-nothing thinking." Then remind yourself that one slip does not undo your progress.

The third step is to respond with kindness. Speak to yourself as you would speak to a good friend who had slipped. Acknowledge what happened, without excuses but without harshness. "That was a slip. It happens. What can I learn? When will I start again?" Research suggests that this kind of response may help people return to their efforts more readily than harsh criticism.

The fourth step is to start again as soon as possible. Do not wait for a perfect moment, a new week or a new month. The sooner you return to the habit, the smaller the lapse remains. Some research suggests that people often feel more motivated to begin again at natural fresh starts, such as the start of a week or a month, and these can be helpful. But the next day, or even the next hour, is also a fresh start.

The fifth step is to plan for difficult times. Think about situations that might cause a lapse: holidays, illness, busy periods, parties, stressful events. For each, plan a small version of the habit that you can keep up, or a clear plan for returning afterwards. Mariela's two-minute practice and Bart's plan for parties are examples.

The sixth step is to learn from each lapse. After a slip, ask what happened. Was there a particular cue, feeling or situation that led to it? Could you prepare differently next time? Each lapse contains information that can make your habit stronger.

Kindness Is Not an Excuse, and Some Lapses Need Help

Self-compassion after a lapse does not mean that anything goes. It does not mean pretending that the lapse did not matter, or giving up on the goal. It means treating yourself with understanding, so that you can look honestly at what happened and return to your efforts. Kindness and responsibility work together. Harsh criticism often leads to avoidance and giving up. Kind honesty leads to learning and starting again.

It is also important to recognize that for some behaviours, lapses can be serious or even dangerous. For people recovering from addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling or other substances and activities, a lapse may carry real risks, and support from qualified professionals is very important. If you are trying to change such a behaviour, please do not rely on this book alone. Talk to a doctor or another qualified professional, and seek out support services that specialize in your situation. They can help you plan for lapses and respond to them safely.

It is also worth knowing that, in many approaches used by professionals to support people with difficult habits, lapses are treated as an expected part of the process and as opportunities to learn, rather than as failures. This is a hopeful message for anyone who has slipped: the people who help others change for a living generally expect slips, plan for them and help people continue afterwards.

Finally, if you find that you are lapsing repeatedly, and that each lapse leaves you feeling hopeless, worthless or very low, please be gentle with yourself and consider talking with someone you trust, or with a doctor or another qualified professional. Feelings of hopelessness deserve care in their own right. And if you ever feel that you might hurt yourself, please contact a helpline or a medical facility right away, and in immediate danger call your local emergency number.

A Short Exercise: A Plan for Slips

This exercise helps you prepare in advance for the lapses that will almost certainly come, so that they stay small. It takes about fifteen minutes.

Choose the habit you are working on. At the top of a page, write it down. Below it, list three situations that are most likely to cause a lapse: for example, a holiday, a busy period at work, a party, an illness or a stressful event. Think about your past experience with this and other habits.

For each situation, write two things. First, a small version of the habit that you could keep up during that situation, even if you cannot do the full version. Second, a clear plan for returning to the full habit afterwards: when, and how. For example: "Holiday: walk for ten minutes each morning wherever I am. Return: first evening back, walk the usual route with my neighbour."

Then write a short message to yourself, to read after a lapse. Write it in the kind, honest voice of a good friend. For example: "You slipped. That is normal, and it does not undo what you have built. The habit is still there. Start again today, with something small." Keep this message somewhere you can find it easily.

Finally, write one sentence that names your own all-or-nothing thought, the one you are most likely to have after a slip, so that you can recognize it when it comes. Corinne wrote: "My thought is 'I always do this.' The truth is: I always start again, if I let myself." Her message to herself read: "Two weeks off is a pause, not an ending. Put on your shoes."

Chapter Summary

A lapse is a single slip; a relapse is a full return to the old pattern. Lapses are a normal part of changing habits, and they do not have to become relapses, but all-or-nothing thinking, such as "I have failed, so I might as well give up", often turns them into one. Research on people trying to eat less found that a small slip sometimes led to a much larger one, because the day felt already ruined. Research on habit formation suggests that missing occasional days does not seriously harm progress, and old and new habits exist side by side, so a slip pauses a habit rather than erasing it. Some studies suggest that responding to setbacks with self-compassion helps people return to their efforts more readily than harsh self-criticism.

Corinne after her missed weeks, Bart after the party, Mariela after a hard month and Aurora after her time in hospital all found that their habits were still there, waiting, and that a kind response, a small restart and a plan for difficult times brought them back. Self-compassion is not an excuse, and lapses in addictions can be serious and need professional support.

In the next chapter, we will look at habits across the whole of life, and at what brain science says about whether it is ever too late to change.