One Small Thing Podcast Season 1 Episode 3: Stacking

In this week’s episode of One Small Thing, I spoke about stacking. The idea is simple, but I think it is also quite powerful. When we look at something we want to do, we often see the whole thing at once. We see the walk, the new routine, the return to work, the study, the interview, the job application, the confidence we wish we had, or the version of ourselves we are trying to become. But most of those things are not one action. They are many smaller actions stacked together. In the podcast, I used the example of wanting to go for a walk. The walk itself might feel like the goal, but before the walk comes getting out of bed, putting on shoes, opening the door, and taking the first step. Little things, placed one on top of another, begin to make the bigger thing possible.

I have been thinking about this in relation to mature-aged people who are returning to work after illness or injury. Because from the outside, returning to work can sound like one big decision. Are you ready to work? Can you apply for jobs? Can you manage the hours? Can you go back to what you were doing before? Can you retrain? Can you start again?

But for the person living it, returning to work is rarely one single step.

It is a stack.

It is a collection of smaller actions, decisions, adjustments, conversations, and moments of courage that build on one another over time.

Sometimes the mistake we make is that we look at the whole staircase and then wonder why the first step feels so hard. We imagine the final outcome before we have built the pathway toward it. We think about the interview before we have rebuilt confidence. We think about the job before we have understood capacity. We think about full-time work before we have tested energy across a week. We think about being employable before we have remembered that capability can return gradually, and sometimes differently.

For someone who has been out of work because of illness or injury, this matters. The pathway back can feel overwhelming, not because the person is unwilling, but because the goal has become too large to hold. Returning to work may carry practical questions, but it can also carry emotional weight. There may be uncertainty about health. There may be fear about whether the body or mind will cope. There may be anxiety about explaining a gap in employment. There may be grief about not being able to return to the same role in the same way. There may be concern about age, confidence, technology, stamina, pain, fatigue, or whether an employer will understand.

When all of that is bundled together under the phrase “returning to work,” it is no wonder it can feel too much.

This is where stacking becomes useful.

Not because it makes the big thing disappear, but because it helps us stop treating the big thing as though it must be achieved all at once.

If the goal is to return to work, the first step may not be applying for a job. It may be getting up at the same time three days in a row. It may be sitting at a computer for twenty minutes and noticing what happens. It may be updating one section of a resume. It may be making one phone call. It may be walking around the block to understand current stamina. It may be speaking with a doctor about work capacity. It may be writing down the types of tasks that still feel possible. It may be asking, honestly, “What can I do now, and what might I build toward?”

That question is different from, “Can I go back to who I was?”

And I think that distinction is important.

Illness and injury can interrupt identity. They can change the rhythm of a person’s life. They can change what feels predictable. They can change confidence. A mature-aged person who has worked for many years may suddenly find themselves in a position where they are no longer sure what they can offer, or how they will be seen by others. That is a difficult place to stand. It is not only a practical employment issue. It is a human one.

Stacking gives us a way to work with that reality rather than against it.

It asks us to begin with what is already there.

In the podcast, I spoke about choosing something you already do and stacking the next thing onto it. That is the heart of habit stacking. You do not begin from nowhere. You begin with an existing pattern and attach one small action to it. If you already get out of bed, perhaps the next step is putting on your shoes. If you already make a cup of tea in the morning, perhaps the next step is opening your laptop for ten minutes. If you already attend a medical appointment, perhaps the next step is asking one question about work capacity. If you already speak with a support person, perhaps the next step is saying out loud that you would like to explore returning to work, even if you are not ready yet.

It sounds small because it is small.

But small does not mean insignificant.

Small is often how confidence is rebuilt.

For mature-aged people returning after illness or injury, confidence may not come before action. Often, confidence comes after repeated experiences of manageable action. A person does one thing and survives it. Then they do another. Then another. They begin to gather evidence that movement is possible. Not dramatic movement. Not perfect movement. But movement.

That is important because when people have been away from work for some time, they can begin to measure themselves against the final version of the goal. They compare themselves to the person who is already working, already confident, already trained, already interview-ready, already able to manage a full week. That comparison can be discouraging because it skips the building process. It forgets that the final version is made from smaller pieces.

No one returns to work in one movement.

There is the physical preparation. There is the emotional preparation. There is the rebuilding of routine. There is the understanding of capacity. There is the conversation about restrictions, supports, and adjustments. There is the practical work of resumes, applications, training, and interviews. There is the quiet work of beginning to believe that there may still be a place for you.

Each of those pieces can be broken down again.

A resume is not one task. It is finding the document, reading it, tolerating the discomfort of seeing the gap, updating one role, changing one sentence, asking for feedback, and coming back to it again.

Training is not one task. It is enrolling, logging in, learning the system, asking questions, managing frustration, trying again, and allowing yourself to be a beginner in one area without deciding that this makes you incapable.

A return-to-work plan is not one task. It is a conversation, then a review, then an adjustment, then a trial, then another conversation. It is not a test of whether everything is fixed. It is a way of understanding what is possible and what support is needed.

This matters because when we treat the return to work as one large outcome, we can easily misread hesitation as resistance. A person may not be avoiding work itself. They may be overwhelmed by the number of steps that appear to sit between where they are and where they think they are supposed to be. They may not know which step comes first. They may be trying to hold the whole future in their mind at once.

That is too heavy.

Stacking lightens the load by asking, “What is the next small thing that belongs on top of what already exists?”

Not the perfect thing.

Not the impressive thing.

Not the thing that proves everything.

Just the next thing.

There is also something respectful about this approach. It does not assume that a person must leap back into their previous life to be making progress. It allows for the reality that recovery can be uneven. Energy can fluctuate. Confidence can rise and fall. Pain can change. Mental health can shift. Family responsibilities can interrupt. Some days the stack may be small. Some days the most important thing may be maintaining the routine that has already been built.

That is still part of the process.

Little things stacked with care can be part of something bigger.