Every January, the same ritual seems to unfold. Gym memberships spike, planners are filled with
neat handwriting, and many conversations begin with, “So, what’s your New Year’s resolution?”
It’s a tradition so familiar that we rarely stop to ask an even more interesting question: what do
we actually think about New Year’s resolutions?
For some, New Year’s resolutions are a reset button—often filled with hope. As the calendar
turns, the idea of change feels possible, even exciting. There is a good deal of comfort in
believing that a single date can divide who we were from who we want to be. It is a similar
paradigm shift to how many religions view the world. Namely, the present here and now equates
to who we are and the hereafter if you will be to who we will become for all eternity. Unlike the
hereafter, a new year offers a clean page, free of last year’s mistakes, half-finished goals, and
missed chances and a time to start fresh. In that sense, resolutions aren’t really about January 1st
at all—they’re about giving ourselves permission. The permission to try again to accomplish our
goals.
But for others, the word “resolution” carries a sense of dread. It can feel like a setup for failure, a
promise you already know you won’t keep. Statistics about abandoned gym routines and
forgotten goals don’t help. By mid-February, many resolutions quietly disappear, replaced by
guilt and self-criticism. If that’s the case, are resolutions motivating, or are they just another way
we pressure ourselves?
It’s worth asking why resolutions often focus on what’s “wrong” with us. Eat better. Be more
productive. Lose weight. Spend less time on your phone. Read more books. Stop and smell the
roses a bit more. Get more balance in your life. The list can sound less like a hopeful vision and
more like a personal complaint sheet. Instead of celebrating growth, resolutions sometimes
highlight dissatisfaction. Do they push us forward, or do they reinforce the idea that we’re never
quite who we want to be?
At the same time, there’s something powerful about reflection. The end of the year naturally
invites it. We look back at what went well and what didn’t, what we’re proud of and what we
regret. In that moment, setting intentions can feel meaningful. Maybe the issue isn’t resolutions
themselves, but how we approach them. Are we making them because we genuinely want
change, or because it feels expected?
Another question to consider is timing. Why January 1st? Change doesn’t operate on a calendar,
yet we often treat the new year as the “right” time to start. If we miss that window, we might feel
like we’ve missed our chance altogether. That kind of thinking can be limiting. What if we
allowed ourselves to begin again at any point—March, July, or on an ordinary Tuesday?
On a personal level May and July of 2025 were times when I took on new resolutions. May,
because I lost my older sister Bobbi to cancer and it was a time of self-reflection that only losing
a loved one brings. July was a milestone birthday which again brought about more reflection and
in both instances new resolutions that have largely held for the balance of 2025.
There’s also the social side of resolutions. Sharing them can create accountability, but it can also
invite comparison. When everyone around you seems to be chasing ambitious goals, it’s easy to
feel behind or unmotivated. Not every year needs to be about drastic transformation. Some years
are about maintenance, rest, or simply getting through. Is it okay to resolve to be gentler with
yourself?
Increasingly, people are shifting away from strict resolutions toward looser intentions or themes.
Instead of “I will go to the gym five times a week,” it becomes “I want to take better care of my
body.” Instead of “I will be more productive,” it becomes “I want to create more balance.” These
approaches leave room for flexibility and growth without the all-or-nothing pressure. They
suggest that progress can be uneven and still meaningful.
So maybe the real conversation isn’t about whether resolutions work, but about what we want
from them. Do we see them as rules to follow or as guides to explore? Are they rooted in self-
improvement or self-punishment? Do they reflect our values, or just cultural habits?
As this new year begins, it might be worth pausing before making a list. Ask yourself how you
feel about resolutions. Do they inspire you, stress you out, or leave you indifferent? And if you
do make one, whose expectations are you meeting—yours, or someone else’s?
I hope that if you have made New Year’s resolutions that they are about growth and personal
fulfillment. May we all continue to strive to be better to each other and to ourselves. May 2026
be a wonderful year where we actually fulfill our resolutions. In the end, the most valuable
resolution might simply be to stay curious: about our goals, our motivations, and our relationship
with change itself. Whether you make a long list, a single intention, or none at all, the question
remains open. What do New Year’s resolutions mean to you?
