When the world has treated your life like it’s disposable, one of the most revolutionary things you can do is reclaim a rhythm.
Stability. Routine. Predictability. To most people, those words might sound dull; like a beige calendar or a boring planner. But for those of us directly impacted by the justice system, they become the foundation of survival.
For many, coming home from incarceration isn’t just a transition; it’s an earthquake.
The aftershocks hit every area of your life: housing, employment, relationships, health. Reentry programs often throw people into a maze of appointments, check-ins, and paperwork with little regard for the trauma or disorientation they’re experiencing. And then society expects you to build a “new life” overnight.
Healing takes repetition. Routine becomes resistance. And a stable environment isn’t a luxury; it’s a human right.
Why Routine Matters After Incarceration
As many people can attest, a steady routine reduces anxiety and reaffirms agency. Knowing that things are stable, predictable events will occur, no matter how mundane, is comforting. It helps people feel in control after living in a system that, for too long, made every decision for them.
Daily practices, whether it’s waking up at the same time, attending a support group, or having a designated time for job applications, equate to small wins; one step closer to a “new normal.” And those small wins build momentum.
Research finds that structure is directly linked to reduced recidivism, especially when it entails mental health support, meaningful work, and safe housing. This is why so many reentry programs seek to invest in the long-term infrastructure that allows routine to stick and stay around.
Systemic Change Requires Predictability, Too
We can’t ask individuals to build stable lives while offering unstable services. But somehow, that’s exactly what we force people to do each day.
Cuts to reentry funding (like we’re seeing in Michigan) erode that stability. We need policymakers to stop playing politics with people’s futures and start funding systems that work: housing-first models, job placement with trauma-informed coaching, and consistent mentorship programs that build trust over time.
What You Can Do
There’s some practical steps you can take no matter what your role is in the system:
If you’re justice-impacted: You are not a failure if your life feels chaotic. Start small. A bedtime, a morning walk, a meal prep ritual; those are radical acts of care.
If you’re an advocate: Push for policies that treat stability as essential. That means real funding, real infrastructure, and community voices in the design.
If you’re a policymaker: PLEASE, Listen to directly impacted people. Stability isn’t a checklist or a nice to have; it’s a right that needs protection, not probation.
In a world that expects us to constantly pivot, reclaiming routine is a protest. It’s a way to say: “I deserve to feel safe, and I deserve to heal.” And that’s something worth fighting for.
