F*ck New Year’s Resolutions
Fuck New Year’s Resolutions. I feel a sense of guilt writing that — like, oops, Natalie, you’re letting your anger show. But I’m learning to love my anger. It lets me know when something feels wrong to me. And something feels so wrong about New Year’s Resolutions.
I am over society’s obsession with constant productivity and self-improvement. This relentless hustle culture we live in is never as obvious and off-putting to me as it is at this time of year. The pressure to come up with goals for a new calendar year and the idea of “New Year, New You” feels exhausting.
Rejecting Hustle Culture and Embracing the Wisdom of Winter
New Year’s resolutions also feel counter to what this season of winter invites us to experience — stillness, rest, and reflection. Here in Seattle, where the sun seems to set at 3:30 pm (it doesn’t actually, but damn, does daylight feel scarce), it’s dark and cold. Plants have died back, animals hibernate, and the Earth itself seems to pause and rest. Nothing about the natural rhythm of winter tells me to push harder, achieve more, or grind my way to the “next level.” And yet, it feels like society is screaming at me to set resolutions, to strive, and to hustle.
I’ve been wrestling with this pressure to improve versus the permission to be gentle with myself — to go slow and rest. If I’m honest, I want to hibernate like a bear. I want to curl up in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, reading a book, sipping hot cocoa, and napping. I want to love myself deeply, exactly as I am — not guilt myself into some “better” version of me.
The Inner Critic’s Role in New Year’s Resolutions
I feel suspicious of New Year’s resolutions. I think they might just be our inner self-critics disguised as self-improvement. As a therapist friend recently reminded me, anything can be a defense mechanism. And that’s exactly what constant self-improvement and most New Year’s Resolutions feel like to me: a defense mechanism. A way of saying, “I’m not good enough as I am.” A way of avoiding the hard but necessary work of sitting with and accepting ourselves as we are—messy, imperfect, and human.
And while I have a lot of love for my inner critic (she just wants to make sure I achieve my dreams, but her methods often leave something to be desired), I also don’t want her to run the show. So I think it’s important for us all to look at any goals, resolutions, intentions, etc., that we’re setting for the calendar year and ask:
Is this rooted in self-love or in not-enoughness and insecurity?
Does this feel self-accepting or self-critical?
Does it come from a place of love or of fear?
Do I think that if I achieve XYZ, I’ll be more worthy of love?
Things To Do Instead of New Year’s Resolutions
Because I think it’s important to practice holding multiple truths at the same time, I also want to acknowledge the desire to mark the change of a new calendar year in some way. I am aware of the urge to use this notable societal, calendar marker as the start of something new and fresh. So here are two things I’m considering:
1. Focus on Desire, Not Insecurity
Recently, at a Women Entrepreneurs Networking event, I heard something that shifted my perspective on goal-setting: “Don’t set goals from your fears and insecurities. Instead, set goals from your desire and yearning.”
We could apply this to New Year’s resolutions. For example, instead of setting a resolution like “In 2025, I will lose 20 pounds,” you might reframe it to something like, “In 2025, I will discover joy in and through my body.”
Goals rooted in desire feel expansive and nurturing, not punitive. They invite curiosity, pleasure, and self-compassion into the process.
Let’s all ask ourselves: What do you truly desire? What are you yearning for?
2. Pick a Theme Word for the Year
At a Women’s Circle I regularly attend here in Seattle, we talked about setting a word for the year — a guiding theme rather than a rigid resolution.
I’ve decided that my word for 2025 is cocoon. I picked this word because I spent the last year trying to be a butterfly when, in reality, I think I was still in a caterpillar stage.
I’ve realized it’s silly to insist that I should be a butterfly when that’s just not the stage I’m in. I learned recently that when caterpillars form a chrysalis, there’s a stage where they completely liquefy — they’re essentially bug goo — before they continue their metamorphosis into a butterfly.
I think that’s the current stage I’m in: liquid caterpillar, bug goo held in my cocoon. At first, that seems gross and unsatisfying — who wants to be bug goo instead of a butterfly? But we wouldn’t have any butterflies without the bug goo.
When I accept that this is the messy stage I’m in, I feel relaxed, and my whole body softens.
Turning Towards Ourselves with Compassion
In my work with perfectionistic, anxious women, I’ve seen how self-improvement often masks deeper insecurities. We’re so busy striving to fix or change ourselves that we miss the opportunity to simply love and accept who we are right now.
What if we stopped using goals as a way to run from the parts of ourselves we feel insecure about, and instead, turned toward them with compassion? What if we loved the messy, unfinished, imperfect parts of ourselves?
As we move into 2025, I invite you to pause. To rest. To reflect on what you truly desire, not what society tells you you should achieve. Embrace the cocoon stage. Embrace the bug goo. Give yourself permission to hibernate and to be held by the rhythms of winter.
You are enough, exactly as you are. You are held, supported, and deeply worthy of love.
Lastly, and as always, if you are struggling with symptoms of anxiety, stress or trauma, professional help can be invaluable and I’m here to support you. My practice is based in Seattle and serves women in the state of Washington, with specialties in anxiety & perfectionism and sexuality & pleasure. I’d love to hear from you.