Stop Making New Year’s Resolutions That Ultimately Make You Feel Bad

What do you really think about New Year's resolutions? I ask because I genuinely love a year-end reflection. I have probably given myself too much time for that lately. Weeks, not hours. But what is it about turning the calendar page that suddenly makes us vow to live differently? Why does a clock striking twelve feel like an invitation to reinvent ourselves?

Maybe it is because we love grand gestures. Trust me, I know the thrill. I’ve spent a lifetime producing over-the-top spectacles. Scale is my native language. When you work with elephants and monster trucks, everything else looks miniature. We are wired for the bold. A resolution feels like a cue to step into the spotlight for a dramatic reveal that will leave your audience gasping.

But the truth is most of us do not live in those heightened scenes. We live in quiet pockets, the in-between moments. Yet we keep making resolutions that are sweeping and vague and impossible to measure. We say things like "I am going to be on my phone less." Less than what? For how long? I mean probably until Tuesday.

We do not need another promise to ourselves that sets us up to feel like failures. We have enough to be accountable for in our lives already. We do not need guilt disguised as motivation. Resolving toward growth without judgment is far more sustainable. Choosing intention over punishment is kinder. We do not need resolutions that make us feel smaller. We need ones that help us expand.

So what if the goal is not restriction but intention? Use the phone more, not less. But use it for more tactile communication. Text the friend you keep meaning to check on. Send the silly meme that gives someone a good giggle. Drop a voice note in the middle of a busy day. You never know who needs that moment of connection. These tiny gestures carry more weight than we give them credit for.

Every year, I make the same resolution. Be a little bit better. That is it. No promise of some giant, dazzling transformation. No lofty goal I will pretend is on track in April. Just a simple intention. Be a better listener. A better friend. A better supporter.  A better human. Not in a perfect way. Just in a real one, the smallest bit of better has a way of echoing outward.

Maybe that is the point of a new year. Not the reinvention. Not the spectacle. Not the fireworks. But the quiet invitation it offers. I’m going to try to be a little better than I was yesterday.

From your biggest champion,
Nicole