A few weeks ago, I was asked at a party what my new year resolutions were. I found the very idea laughable. I’ve never made any – because I’m perfect, and delusional. I also didn’t think anyone did. I straw polled my friends, who were equally dismissive. “Nobody chooses to do anything,” pronounced Charlie, “they just happen.” Mimi, an artist, does make them – but only at solstice. “Ghastly to have everyone doing the same things at the same time.” James’s only resolution was “the Mountain Goats one.” He’s referring to the song This Year by the band of that name, which pledges: “I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.”
This left me thinking a few things. First, I have very intense friends. Second, what are resolutions? Are they now a legacy pastime, like Auld Lang Syne? Something we joke about, rather than actually do?
Resolutions fail, we know that. A YouGov survey at the end of 2022 found that just 28% of people managed to stick to all of their resolutions last year. But people do self- evidently still make them, and 53% managed to carry out at least some of them. Perhaps what we don’t take as seriously is the classic formulation: a bullet point list, written on 1 January.
“There’s definitely a more consistent conversation, rather than people waking up once a year and realising improvement is needed,” says Gretchen Rubin, host of the wildly popular Happier podcast. Rubin’s bestselling books are a font of productivity tips, habit-formation methods and motivational insights. It makes sense that for life-hack devotees, self-improvement is a rolling programme, and they employ more sophisticated strategies.
My most put-together friend, Victoria, checks in on herself via a dedicated journal, broken into four categories: personal, career, financial and wellness. (I once saw her making a spreadsheet of her favourite nuts.) I’ve heard of others who focus on decluttering, consolidation and self-expansion. Rubin sets herself a word of the year, a personal challenge and, finally, writes a varied list of things she wants to do. “For people who don’t like resolutions, it’s a way to play with the idea.”
I’m not that organised. I have a rebellious instinct and resist much of self-help. I believe making individuals responsible for improving their lives, and accountable for failures thereof, obscures social forces beyond their control. Yes, I am fun at parties, why do you ask?
“Maybe they’re a cover for looming anxiety,” suggests Anna Cutteridge, a psychotherapist with the School of Life in London, who shares my reluctance. Resolutions are often made in a spirit of guilt about festive indulgence, she notes, and can mask a deeper, existential horror: starting another year as ourselves. “It’s a weird switch to flip – in January, I don’t drink alcohol and I go to the gym and I’m a different person.”
If you’re upping exercise or cutting carbs, the middle of winter is the worst time to start. Yet experts, including Cutteridge, believe the symbolic threshold of a new year can lend energy to new habits. In behavioural science, the “fresh start effect” describes the motivation we feel with certain milestones. They create a sense of separate chapters in our experience – a helpful boundary between the “old” us and who we wish to be. January 1 is an arbitrary date; that doesn’t mean it isn’t powerful.
As a disorganised person who wants to be less pessimistic and judgmental, maybe it’s time I took a fresh look at the futile to-do list of the goody two-shoes brigade.
New year resolutions date back 4,000 years, to ancient Babylonians vowing to pay their debts. The first recorded use of the phrase, however, appears in a Boston news-paper from 1813. The article lambasts readers who sin all through December before making mealy-mouthed promises, “with the full belief that they shall expiate and wipe away all their former faults”. (We’re still looking at you.) In its first outing, the phrase is already dripping with shame, self-delusion and hot takes.
It’s a very western phenomenon, says Cutteridge. “A tickbox of the perfected self, very individualistic.” Where we exert our will, other cultures have fun. Nowhere more so than South America. At new year, Brazilians jump seven waves while making seven wishes; and neighbouring Colombians eat a grape for every chime of the clock at midnight. Argentinians leave the past behind, shredding old documents and flinging them like confetti. Peruvians, meanwhile, settle scores with an end-of-year fist fight. But they always hug it out.
Should we make resolutions less self-centred? In Buddhist countries, bells are rung in the streets to wish good luck to all. The Japanese laugh as midnight rolls in, a generous offering to those around you. I’m charmed by the Romanian and Belgian custom of talking kindly to one’s livestock at New Year. Yet to paraphrase Bart Simpson: I don’t have a cow, man!
Rubin insists there is no dilemma in prioritising our own happiness. “Research shows happier people are more interested in the problems of the world and other people,” she points out. They are more likely to vote, donate money and volunteer time. They have the emotional wherewithal to turn outwards. “If it’s selfish to want to be happier, we should be selfish, if only for selfless reasons,” she concludes, like a zen koan.
OK, I’m sold. Let’s make some resolutions. How to know what to want? Even at this point, things are not so simple.
Cutteridge relates a tradition among the friends with whom she spends 31 December. They each write a note to themselves, containing a wish. This is then handed to someone else and forgotten about; until next year, when the note is handed back. The idea is to see if it came true without conscious effort. Frequently, there’s another effect. “You open up the envelope, and you laugh. ‘This is what I wanted? This is what mattered to me?’” The lesson is perturbing. “We’re not good at knowing what will make us happy.” We develop throughout our lives, she explains, and frequently make choices barely recognisable to us even a short time later. She quotes her colleague, philosopher Alain de Botton: “If you’re not embarrassed by the person you were last year, are you really growing?”
All sorts of strange ideas capture the zeitgeist, too, persuasive in their ubiquity. Think of the currently popular “hustler” mentality that draws fatuous inspiration from the habits of mad CEOs, and negs us all into thinking we should get up at 4am to do intermittent fasting. Even a glance at the evidence suggests the most effective habit any aspiring millionaire should focus on is being born into money.
Even if we resist trendy thinking, we may be making resolutions with a fantasy self in mind. I could decide I want to become a professional dancer, as I love to dance. My vulnerable achilles, inability to pick up choreography and general ancientness will have their say in the matter. Conversely, we may decide a particular resolution sounds too much like hard work – forgetting that growth is rarely comfortable.
OK, park that – let’s talk about the how to actually follow through. Here, Rubin is my good angel, overflowing with practical tips.
“Don’t break the chain” is one of her most popular tools. Doing something every day is the best way to form a habit. It creates momentum, lowers the difficulty threshold and eliminates the effort of making a decision. It’s the same reason why abstention – from say, sugar – can be easier than “everything in moderation”.
Let’s put some skin in the game. I don’t think I actually want to be less judgmental, when I think about it. It’s part of my job. So what do I want? I’m not proud of this, but I’m sick of being sensitive and tattered. I want lots of money.
“That doesn’t mean anything!” objects Rubin. Resolutions should be concrete. What does my path to money involve? Do I want to switch careers, get a degree, invest in new tools? “It’s like saying, ‘I want to learn Italian.’ You can’t wake up one morning and learn Italian.” Abstract wants are wishes. Her advice is to focus on daily actions we can control, not outcomes.
Identifying steps that can be taken every day lets us apply a frame of: “Did I do it, or not?” Yet Cutteridge says we should also avoid being overly prescriptive. “Turning a desire into a tickbox makes it lose all meaning.” She gives the example of someone who wants to be a better parent. Defining the achievement narrowly might make them grow rigid. “It may be more about staying open, communicating with your kids about how to do better. The bar can shift.”
“Pairing” is another way to up one’s motivation. Allow yourself your favourite podcast only when you’re in the gym, for example. I’ve used this poorly in the past, pairing a two-minute run with a slice of lemon drizzle cake. This is the heart of my problem with resolutions: they seem so joyless.
They are often a way of being hard on ourselves, agrees Rubin. But there’s no reason they can’t be pleasurable, such as diarising more time for reading, or other things I enjoy. I’d never thought this. A resolution can be delicious. She also recommends topping up one’s motivation with a “halfway there” day on 2 July; a chance to look back at what we’ve achieved so far. “Too often we focus on the to-do, not the ta-dah!” What are some of her fun pledges? “I want to take more naps,” she smiles.
Deciding on a good resolution, and meeting it, ultimately share the same root: self-knowledge. Figure out your tendency, says Rubin, in particular how you respond to expectations placed on you, by yourself and others. Do you like the social accountability of a group? Or do you respond better to individual motivation and a customised routine? Reflect on what has worked for you in the past. If a resolution isn’t sticking, trust that – and try a different approach.
“When an activity aligns with your core values, you are more likely to stick with it,” says Cutteridge. Find meaning in the change you’re making, and a fuller you will emerge. An awareness of your temperament, and striking a balance between concrete steps and core values seems to be the key to a good resolution. Sadly, I don’t think “golden toilet-level wealth” makes the cut, though it would be nice.
And so this year I’m making a list, and checking it twice. I’m armed with good intentions and sound advice. I’ve arrived at seven rules that feel manageable and exciting. Or perhaps I just wish I was on a Brazilian beach. There’s always next year.
Rhik’s seven resolutions
Keep it simple and you just might stick to them
1. Write one sentence, idea or observation each day just for you. Keep creative.
2. You don’t need snacks or sugar. Your mouth is simply bored. Instead, get into herbal teas, tisanes, infusions and decoctions. Bore people with it, if you must.
3. Walk 10,000 steps, five days a week. Good for the stomach, inside and out.
4. Go out of your way to pet animals. Two legs good, fur legs much better.
5. Don’t take people in your life for granted. See them anew and keep telling them good things about themselves.
6. Brush your teeth after supper, so when you’re tired, you can simply slip into bed.
7. Get in the sea.
