I Don't Do Resolutions

I’ve never really been one for New Years resolutions. I think it’s because in the past, as I’ve been making the resolution in my mind, I’ve already predicted (and in some cases, accepted) my own failure. Some ineffective attempts at Whole30 and other health kicks come to mind, but there have been other, simpler (yet still unachieved) goals, such as "Stop spending so much money on takeout," "Stop spending so much money on wine," and "Stop spending so much money on things that you'll only wear once before you inevitably ruin them in the dryer." Last year, however, I tried to outsmart myself: I resolved to get up early and work out before I went to the office each day. In my head, this was an achievable goal, because it’s what I did most days of the week while I was living in New York City.

When I lived in New York, I would wake up around 5:30 a.m., walk to the gym, work out, shower and get ready in the locker room, leave the gym, and walk the rest of the distance to work to arrive by 8:30 a.m. If I could do it then, why couldn’t I do it now, when I was considerably more mature and infinitely wiser? On top of this, my gym was now actually in my apartment building, so I had no excuse not to get out of bed. And bonus, the gym was located two floors below my apartment, so gravity was already on my side! I could quite literally just roll myself down the two flights of stairs each morning if I so chose! And so, armed with the facts and a blissfully optimistic attitude, on the eve of Sunday, January 5th, 2020, I gleefully set my alarm for 5:30 a.m.

Guess if I made it to the gym before work the next morning.

Guess if I made it to the gym before work any day the rest of the week.

Guess if I made it to the gym before work at any point during 2020.

...I didn’t.

Here’s the problem with that resolution, which (interestingly enough) ends up being the same problem that causes the vast majority of people to give up on their resolutions just a few weeks into the new year: My resolution was rooted in shame. I was shaming myself for not being in better shape after the holiday season, I was shaming myself for not maximizing the potential of each hour in the day, and as if that wasn’t enough, I was shaming myself for the sheer fact that I had been able to do something before, so I must still be able to do it now. If not, it meant that I was lazy, inefficient, undisciplined, and irresponsible, all things that I deserved to feel even more shame for.

Shame is a complicated emotion because it is an incredibly personal feeling, and yet it still manages to be entirely universal. Everyone has felt shame at some point in their lives, but everyone's unique experience of shame is different. It has served an important evolutionary purpose for humanity: back in the early days of civilization, shameful actions would be punished by isolation from the rest of the group. Isolation from the group would lead to increased vulnerability to danger, and eventually death. I ask you to call to mind something in your past that caused you to feel shame; this process may trigger feelings of discomfort or anger, because shame doesn’t use a soft touch to get its point across. Shame speaks very loudly, but it is not a motivator for meaningful and lasting change. You simply cannot shame or belittle yourself into changing.*

As I look back on it, maybe my New York City routine was more disciplined. It was also more convenient for my roommates, as I shared an apartment with two friends but with only one shower. It was efficient, because my gym was located almost exactly halfway between my apartment and my office. It was also more self-indulgent, because my gym offered a custom line of Kiehl’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, which was dispensed in each of the locker room showers. But if I was to remove each of those key variables from the equation, what would I be left with? And more importantly, did that routine really make a measurable amount of difference in my daily happiness?

I no longer share an apartment with roommates. The length of my daily commute is now 5 minutes at most (and that’s if someone is hogging the elevator in my building). And, perhaps most devastatingly, I do not have a special partnership with Kiehl’s that allows me to enjoy custom bath products. The truth is that I don’t have the same motivating factors in my life that propelled me to work out between 6 and 7 a.m. each morning anymore. That’s a fact. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And yet still there is a voice inside my head that looks at all of this and goes, “Yeah, your circumstances have changed, but you should still want to work out in the morning because exercise itself should be enough of a motivator and other successful people get up early to do stuff so you should too.” (Hint: You can usually recognize shaming statements, such as these, by the presence of the word “should").

Exercise is good for you, I know that. It doesn’t mean that it feels great every single time. It also doesn’t mean that exercising is its own reward. If it was, everyone would be on the treadmill 24/7, and they wouldn’t be trying to distract themselves with TV or music. Instead, they would constantly be shouting, “WOW, isn’t this great? I’m having the TIME OF MY LIFE over here!” And there would be no obesity and we’d all look like the cast of Baywatch. But that’s not the reality. Sometimes, the things that are good for us aren’t always fun or enjoyable on their own. That still doesn’t mean that we need to shame ourselves into doing them.

I made a lot of changes in 2020, and few of them were easy. I made an effort to cut back on my negative self-talk and to tone down my perfectionistic tendencies. I started meditating and practicing mindfulness. And yes, I eventually did start exercising more, and I even decided to take up yoga recently (shoutout to my girl Jess Timsit, and I would highly recommend 30 Days of Yoga to a New You on Amazon Prime). But perhaps the most important change that I made was the decision to practice self compassion towards myself. Self compassion made all of the other changes possible, because instead of approaching these new practices with a sense of shame, I was doing these things because I actually cared about myself enough to commit to something that would make me happier in the long run. That’s the difference between changes that are motivated by self compassion instead of shame; when the desire to make positive changes in one’s life comes from a place of self-love rather than self-hate, you’re exponentially more likely to see progress and lasting results.

So no, I don’t make New Year’s resolutions anymore, and yes, on average, I would say that I am now happier (and healthier) than I was when I lived in New York. I no longer believe in making changes to my routine, my diet, or my appearance out of a sense of shame. I don’t mean to bash New Year's resolutions as a whole - if you’ve made one that you’re proud of and willing to stick to, then more power to you. My hope for you is that your resolutions come from a place of genuine self-love, appreciation, and acceptance, rather than from a belief that you’re inherently “bad” and therefore deserve to be punished (because you’re not and you don’t). At the end of the day, we all deserve to grow and change in ways that make us feel good about ourselves. Just make sure those changes are taking place on your terms.

*These are all but direct quotes from Dr. Brené Brown during her interview with Dan Harris on the Ten Percent Happier podcast. The episode is called "Vulnerability: The Key To Courage" and was released in December 2020. Definitely worth a listen if you're interested in learning more about the power of shame.