Why I Don’t Make New Years’ Resolutions Anymore

By Sammie Yen

The start of the new year feels like a blank slate or the perfect opportunity to rewrite the script of our lives. For years, I embraced the spirit of the New Years’ resolution, partly because it was a popular grade school post-recess activity and partly because I genuinely enjoyed believing I would be a different person in the next calendar year.

My lists would look a little different every year but would still be brimming with the same ambitious flavor. Read one hundred books, get over eight hours of sleep, write a novel (and be a bestseller, too), learn a new language (Duolingo-standard), and go to the gym four times a week. One year, I unironically wrote in my journal, Be happy. 

By early February, these same lists were conveniently forgotten, put to the wayside of other timely responsibilities. I felt guilty rather than inspired. 

Eventually, I had to ask myself: why was I so committed to a practice that left me feeling like I failed? Somewhere along the way, I stopped — not just writing resolutions but also feeling like I needed to be someone new in the new year. Here’s why.

To start, the calendar is arbitrary. Why January 1st? Waiting for a specific date felt counterproductive to me. Instead of relying on a static moment in time to make changes, I’ve learned to reflect and recalibrate throughout the year. If I only decided on striving for change at the beginning of each new year, I would be stuck stagnant relying on that time to come. 

Every week, every day and even every hour presents an opportunity to pivot and grow. Rather than expecting perfection, and being frustrated when it doesn’t come, I have come to understand the nonlinear nature of progress. It’s up, down, sideways at times, and allows for stumbling.

Next, my New Years’ resolutions generally focused on grand, sweeping changes (Be happy? What would that even mean or look like? When would I know when I have achieved that, and how would I know to maintain that feeling?). In reality, change is much more sustainable when it is built on smaller, incremental steps. 

Instead of overhauling my life in January, I can celebrate the micro-changes and small victories that I make each day. Maybe I won’t have finished an entire novel by the end of the year, but if I can write 200 words and feel good about it, that counts in my book.

Resolutions also tend to be reactionary and performative. Often they stemmed from shame or societal pressure rather than authentic self-reflection. Maybe I would promise to work harder because I felt inadequate to others’ work ethics. Would I read one hundred books because I wanted to read one hundred books in 365 days? Or was it because I wanted to show other people that I have read one hundred books? 

Giving up New Year’s resolutions doesn’t mean giving up on self-improvement. In fact, it’s the opposite for me. By rejecting this annual ritual, I’ve embraced an internal, holistic and compassionate approach to growth. Instead of asking myself “What should I change this year?” or “How can I be better next year?” I now ask, “What’s working for me, and why?” This shift has been transformative.

Intentional living doesn’t demand perfection or hinge on an arbitrary date. It is staying present, making conscious choices and honoring the ebb and flow of life. By focusing on values rather than resolutions, I’ve found the best way to strive to be my best self.

In 2025, you won’t find me making a list of resolutions. I’ll be taking a deep breath, reflecting on what matters and taking one small, joyous step forward.