By Joe Byerly
Before I retired from the military, everyone told me the same few things:
“You’ll struggle with purpose.”
“You’ll miss the mission.”
“You’ll miss the people.”
And they weren’t wrong. I’ve felt all of that to some degree. As I’ve recently written, I’m learning to live a half-way interesting life.
But the one thing no one talked about? What to do when the routine is gone. Especially when you leave the military for the entrepreneurial life.
At first it was great! It felt like leave, an extended vacation.
But after a while, with the early morning physical fitness sessions gone and the crushing work hours a thing of the past, shit got weird.
Without the 0500 wake-ups and 14-hour days, I found myself face-to-face with a blank calendar—and a strange stillness.
All of a sudden I had 60-70 hours of my life back that I now owned. That’s a huge responsibility!
I felt like I had been driving down the autobahn at 200mph and then jarringly brought the engine to a complete stop.
Silence.
Don’t get me wrong—I had plenty to do. I was writing every day, reading, recording episodes of the podcast, and digging into research for work.
But the days felt more like chaos than progress.
I was busy, but unanchored. Productive, but not grounded.
Something was off.
I should’ve seen the discomfort coming.
I’d read enough to know the importance of routine—and I’d lived it firsthand, leading Soldiers. Humans don’t do well without structure. Especially those of us trained to live by it.
Polar explorers knew this. The successful ones always built daily routines to keep their crews from going crazy during the deep, dark arctic winters.
Prisoners of war in Vietnam experienced it, too. At the Hanoi Hilton, they endured brutal conditions—torture, isolation, interrogations. But they also found sanity in routine
Even the sound of keys jingling outside a cell at the wrong time could trigger anxiety. Routine was one of the few thin threads holding their minds together.
I saw the same thing in my own career.
When we were deployed and had too much time on our hands, our minds drifted to who and what we were missing back home. And when that happened, you could feel the inner dark clouds start to move in.
So we adapted. Even on days off, we built routine into our lives: eating at the same time, working out together, doing maintenance.
Anything to create rhythm.
Anything to keep the mind busy and the morale steady.
Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the famous psychologist who coined the term “flow”, noted that our thoughts tend to follow random, often negative patterns: “Unless a person knows how to give order to his or her thoughts, attention will be attracted to whatever is problematic in the moment.” In other words, if we don’t direct our focus, our mind drifts—usually toward pain, resentment, or frustration.
This makes sense why so many veterans struggle when they get out. They lack the routine that provides them the focus they once had when serving on active duty.
“When you have all the time in the world,” writes Steal Like and Artist author Austin Kleon, “a routine helps you make sure you don’t waste it.”
Now, for the first time in my adult life, I was challenged to do the same. To create routine and structure—not because the Army told me to, but because I needed it.
We all need structure. We all need routine. It gives us predictability—a vital counter to the uncertainty that follows military life.
I quickly learned that without a routine, I wasted time. Doing what? I don’t really know. I can’t account for most of it.
I started to build one.
Coffee.
Journaling and reading.
Carpool.
Long walk.
Meetings, podcasts, interviews, and writing.
Workout.
Lunch.
Another stretch of writing.
Another carpool.
My life began to develop a rhythm.
And that rhythm is what anchors me now.
I didn’t expect to struggle after I left the military—but without structure, I drifted. What I’ve come to realize is that routine creates stability in the face of uncertainty. It’s how we reclaim ownership of our days when the mission is no longer handed to us. The rhythm I’ve built grounds me. And maybe that’s the real lesson: after a life of being told where to be, what to do, and leading others—we each have to learn how to lead ourselves.
Joe Byerly is a retired U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel with 20 years of service, including tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, and command of a cavalry squadron in Europe. He earned numerous awards, including multiple Legion of Merits, Bronze Stars, the Purple Heart, and General Douglas MacArthur Leadership Award. In 2013, Joe founded From the Green Notebook.
A passionate advocate for self-knowledge through reading and reflection, he authored The Leader’s 90-Day Notebook and co-authored My Green Notebook: “Know Thyself” Before Changing Jobs, a resource for leaders seeking greater self-awareness. If this post resonated with you or sparked any questions, feel free to reach out to him at Joe@fromthegreennotebook.com.
