Thirty-six months later, the weekly averages still steady me

I marked thirty-six months this week, and what I notice most is how unremarkable the maintenance has become. I weigh on Sunday mornings, then average those four readings at the end of the month. That number has drifted down about 84 pounds from where I started, though the last several months have been mostly a flat, gentle line. I still wrte down two things daily: whether I got a protein-first breakfast and whether I took a twenty-minute walk after dinner. Neither is dramatic, but together they keep me from treating every hungry afternoon as a verdict. I have had seasons where the scale was noisy and seasons where it was almost silent; the weekly average has been the only thing I trust to tell the truth slowly. For those who are several years out, how do you keep your patience when progress is quiet and the routine is working?