The Habit That Saved Me

It Started with a Mug

It was a chipped mug that got me thinking about my love life. Specifically, the one I used every morning: faded, cowboy-themed, and slightly embarrassing—"World’s Greatest Lasso Champion" emblazoned across its side. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done. I drank my coffee from it every day until, one morning, it cracked clean through the handle. Coffee splashed everywhere.

As I cleaned up, grumbling into a sea of paper towels, I thought: why hadn’t I bothered to buy a new mug? Sure, this one was familiar, even sentimental, but it was also old and frankly kind of ugly. Yet, I’d clung to it stubbornly, convinced it was “good enough.”

And there it was: my romantic habits distilled in one sad ceramic metaphor. That morning, I decided to pay attention—to my habits, my choices, and the small things I’d let slide in the name of “good enough.” Spoiler: replacing the mug was just the beginning.

Breaking the Cowboy Syndrome

Growing up on my family’s ranch in Telluride, “making do” wasn’t just a lifestyle; it was practically our family motto. Missing a fence post? We’d improvise with an old snowshoe. Ran out of trail snacks for a ride? Half a granola bar would suffice. It’s an admirable trait when you’re fixing fences or fending off raccoons. Less so, I realized, in matters of the heart.

I noticed the same pattern in my relationships. I dated people who made sense on paper. We’d fall into routines—dinners at the same one-patio Mexican joint, predictable Friday-night Netflix binges—but there wasn’t much excitement or growth. I’d quietly let my needs go unmet, convincing myself that keeping the peace was better than asking for what I really wanted: deeper conversations, more passion, or even trying something as bold as salsa dancing. (Spoiler alert: I’m a terrible dancer, but I was willing to learn!)

The truth? I’d subscribed—unknowingly—to what I now call "Cowboy Syndrome": just riding along without challenging the scenery, convinced that the way things were was the way they’d always be. The habit that saved me from this rut? Saying yes more often. Not just any yes; intentional, thoughtful yeses that aligned with my values and nudged me out of my complacency.

The Accidental Power of Saying Yes

It started small. My friend Mason invited me to go rock climbing after work one day, something I hadn’t done since college. Saying no would’ve been easier: I had papers to grade. I’d probably embarrass myself on the wall. But for once, I said yes.

I showed up and discovered muscles I’d forgotten I had. Sure, I wasn’t about to free solo El Capitan, but I surprised myself by enjoying something new. And it wasn’t just the climbing; being open to the experience made my interactions feel... well, brighter. Mason and I laughed so hard at my failed attempts to tie a climbing knot, I nearly fell off the practice wall.

That first yes snowballed. Soon, I was saying yes to little things that scared me or made me curious: taking a creative writing workshop led by a local poet (yep, I write, but let’s just say poetry is not my forte), trying hot sauce levels that made my eyes water, even striking up conversations with strangers in coffee shops instead of hiding behind a book.

How This Shift Changed My Relationships

The habit trickled into dating in unexpected ways. I stopped “making do” with what felt safe and started saying yes to possibilities I might have dismissed before. When an old college acquaintance reached out to suggest coffee, I shrugged off all my excuses (“It’ll be awkward!”) and went. That coffee turned into a sunny afternoon strolling around town, sharing memories about Colorado State, and plenty of unexpected laughs.

Over time, saying yes to myself became equally important. I stopped settling for stagnant relationships, where the most thrilling part of our week was watching someone else win trivia on TV. Instead, I stopped apologizing for wanting a partner who’d meet me halfway—someone excited to grow together. You’d be amazed at how setting that bar changes who you attract.

When I met Chloe last year at a local community fundraiser, her quick laugh and sharp wit caught my attention. She wasn’t like anyone I’d dated before. She loved the outdoors (not surprising in Telluride), but she also roasted me mercilessly when I confessed my deep love for Willie Nelson. Sparring with her felt challenging and exhilarating—the antidote to Cowboy Syndrome. I stopped hesitating and said yes to her too.

Habits That (Actually) Save You

If you’re stuck in a rut—or holding onto the dating version of a cracked mug—consider what small habit you could tweak. For me, saying yes opened doors I’d accidentally bolted shut, bringing new life to relationships and, frankly, my own personality. Give it a try. Here’s what worked for me:

  • Forget “good enough.” Don’t be afraid to recognize when something—or someone—has run its course. Whether it’s a cracked mug or a comfortable but unfulfilling relationship, let it go.

  • Make space for newness. Saying yes doesn’t mean flinging yourself at every opportunity, but try accepting invitations you’d usually pass on. If dinner with your neighbor or an offer to join that weird group pottery class seems odd, that’s reason enough to explore.

  • Say yes to yourself. Whether it’s setting boundaries or embracing a hidden passion, start treating your needs like they matter as much as anyone else’s. (Spoiler: They do.)

  • Be intentional. Blindly agreeing to every plan won’t help. Pick the yeses that remind you who you are and challenge you to be your best self—or maybe discover a new self in the process.

An Unexpected Yes

Once, not too long ago, I said yes to karaoke—something I’d sworn off for years because of a traumatic middle school rendition of “Achy Breaky Heart.” There was a guitar on the screen and a tambourine in Chloe’s hand, and before I even realized what was happening, she’d roped me into a duet of “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” My voice wasn’t what it used to be (and let’s not discuss the tambourine incident), but when I looked at her, I couldn’t stop grinning. It wasn’t perfect, but saying yes made it unforgettable.

And that’s kind of the point. Life isn’t perfect, and neither is love. But if you’re willing to shake things up, to risk a little embarrassment for a lot of joy, you might just stumble into moments that save you. For me, it all began with a cracked mug and a simple, powerful word: yes.