The Points System (Part 5): Why Anchor Habits Matter So Much
aka: the little rituals that held the whole thing together
At the beginning of this year, I started tracking my daily habits inside a spreadsheet I built from scratch and affectionately dubbed The Points System. It wasn’t a productivity hack. It wasn’t a January-resolution-fueled frenzy. It was an experiment in self-witnessing.
Each habit had a weekly target. If I hit it, I got a point. Some earned bonuses for consistency. The rules were simple, but the purpose ran deeper: I wasn’t trying to optimize my life—I was trying to observe it. To track what moved the needle. What helped me feel more present, more capable, more me.
I set a weekly goal of 80% completion—not perfection, not burnout. Just enough to keep momentum going without spiraling into rigidity. And over 18 weeks, one thing became clear: it wasn’t the whole list that made that possible. It was five small, steady habits that quietly shaped the week.
What’s an anchor habit?
An anchor habit is the thing that holds when everything else gets loud. The ritual that creates rhythm when the rest of the day is static. It doesn’t ask for motivation. It doesn’t need to feel good. It just shows up—and brings you with it.
For me, those five habits were:
18 oz of water before coffee
30g of protein before coffee
Send Megan a podcast clip
PT sessions
Walk three miles
Each had a completion rate above 74%. Some, like water and protein, hovered near 97%. They weren’t impressive—they were dependable. And that’s what made them powerful.
Repetition beats motivation every time
These habits didn’t rely on mood or momentum. They worked because they were embedded. I didn’t have to hype myself up. They were already part of the rhythm.
Sometimes I walked while listening to Doechii. Sometimes I dragged myself through PT whispering “this still counts.” And it did. Every time. Because the habit wasn’t about performance—it was about presence.
What the data says
The impact wasn’t just emotional. It was measurable.
When I completed 3 of 5 anchor habits at least six times in a week, my average overall habit success rate was 80%—the exact benchmark I set for myself.
When I hit only 2 of 5? That dropped to 70%.
That 10-point swing wasn’t about working harder. It was about which few behaviors created the scaffolding for the rest of the week. Anchor habits weren’t just habits—they were the frame.
Even the messy weeks held
Take May 19. I was low-capacity, behind on projects, and dragging myself through the motions. But the anchors? Still there. Water. Protein. Walking. Megan. I hit 4 out of 5. And my habit success for the week? 82%.
Not because I was thriving. Because the structure held.
The Megan Habit
(Here’s Megan and I, don’t I look taller?!)
The one that surprised me most was Send Megan Pod Clip. It had a 98% success rate. Every week, three times a week, I’d send my sister a (typically long and rambling) audio note.
It wasn’t about the quality or substance. It was about the rhythm of keeping in touch. Keeping the text thread alive lol. The emotional connection. The quiet reminder that I’m still here, still connected, still curious.
That small, consistent connection became a form of regulation. Not in the “biohack” sense—but in the real, human, “I feel seen and tethered” sense.
Not all habits matter equally
Tracking 95 behaviors gave me data, but the most powerful insight was this: only a few truly mattered.
You don’t need a perfect system. You need a handful of practices that work for you—ones that regulate your nervous system, create structure, and hold you steady when things get weird. Because things always get weird.
These habits weren’t optimized. They were lived. And that’s why they lasted.
Why anchor habits matter
They don’t care how motivated you are.
They don’t ask for peak performance.
They don’t require sparkle.
They just give you something to return to.
They create momentum when you’re drifting. Stability when you’re off-balance. A soft place to land on the days when the rest of life feels harder than it should.
That’s what makes them anchors.
And in the long run? That’s what makes them magic.