227: The History in Our Habits
My father never finished his glass.
He always left a little bit of it at the bottom. Water, tea, beer—whatever the beverage, there was always a sliver of liquid at the end. It used to drive my mom crazy.
"Why don't you just finish the whole thing?" she would demand, holding up the offending glass in the air.
At first, my dad couldn't explain it, but over time, the questions started to bother him. He got curious and did some spelunking in his own mind, trying to understand what might be the reason.
Eventually, he found it.
During the Cultural Revolution, my father was sent to the rural farmlands to be re--educated. The water they drank came from the river, which contained silt and sand that would settle at the bottom. Everyone learned to leave just a little bit in the glass to avoid having a mouth full of mud. That was the habit my dad developed and continued into his adult life.
This realization didn't completely change everything—he probably drains his glass about half the time. But it helped my mom and everyone in our family better understand his quirks and made them less bothersome.
That's the thing about human psychology—we don't always know why we do what we do.
Sometimes our behaviors are shaped by experiences so distant or traumatic that we've buried them deep in our subconscious. They surface as habits, quirks, or inexplicable preferences that even we can't explain until we take the time to really examine them.
We all have habits that unknowingly annoy others. And sometimes, those habits tell stories we didn't even know we were carrying.
There's a lot of conversation about the need for empathy in marketing, sales, and leadership. Empathy is trying to understand the other person's of view, and I would argue you need empathy for yourself when you find yourself doing something that bothers you or others around you.
When we take the time to understand our own behaviors—to practice this self-empathy—we often discover that what seems like an annoying habit or irrational fear actually has roots in something meaningful from our past.
Like my father's habit with leaving his drinks unfinished, these behaviors might have once served as survival mechanisms or coping strategies. Understanding this doesn't mean we have to keep these habits, but it does help us approach changing them with more patience and compassion.
So next time you catch yourself judging someone's peculiar behavior—or even your own—take a moment to wonder about its origins. What story might be hiding behind that habit? What experiences shaped that quirk? The answer might surprise you, and more importantly, it might transform your frustration into understanding.
It turns out every habit has a history—even the ones that only leave traces at the bottom of a glass.