Each morning, I fill a mug with water and microwave it for my soon-to-be peppermint tea. As the water heats, I gather my nebulized meds. I move my therapy vest to my location of choice—lately in front of the fireplace. I grab my journal and a pen, then head back to the kitchen to prepare my tea.

I return to the living room, tea in hand, and place it on the coffee table. I put on my vest, press go, and start shaking, which loosens up any junk in my lungs. I add a med to my nebulizer cup and turn on the machine, then inhale the aerosolized magic. With respiratory therapy under way, I open my notebook.

I write the day of the week, the date, and the time, then get to rambling. I talk about the previous day’s activities and what I’ve got on tap for the day ahead. Occasionally I take a break from puffing for a sip of tea.

Sometimes, while I write, I want to look at my phone—to check the time of an appointment, refill a prescription, look at the class schedule at the Y. At times I accomplish what I sought out to do, then set my phone back down. But, other times, I find myself 4535 points into a puzzle game, asking myself how the hell I got there.

I can’t find an original source for this, but it’s believed that about 95% of our brain activity is made up of subconscious programs—i.e., we’ve practically memorized our beliefs, behaviors, reactions, and the like. This means most of what we do is by default, not by conscious choice. I can attest to this every time I realize I’m holding a handful of pretzels. Where did they come from?

When I performed improv, I often felt like my best shows came after some time off. If I was in two or three shows a week, I’d fall into patterns. For example, if the emcee said to continue the scene as a soap opera, I’d slip into the same overly dramatic gestures I did the previous time—when I could have instead alluded to amnesia or an evil twin. Subconscious programming is so deeply rooted that it can even hijack improv.

As I try to build my best life—a life I’ve consciously designed—it’s important to catch myself before I do what’s familiar. And I can start by paying more attention.