New Year Resolutions are a Trap (Let's do it differently)

Michelle Turpin
Jan 5
5 min read

It’s the first week of January. The tree is either still up looking tragic, or it’s come down and now your living room feels like it’s missing a wall.

And now… you’re back.

Back to work.

Back to school runs.

Back to emails that apparently bred over Christmas.

Back to routines, alarms, packed lunches, deadlines, meetings, and that slightly offended feeling your body has when you try to put on “proper trousers” again.

Meanwhile, social media is still banging on about New Year resolutions like we’re all just floating around with unlimited energy, time, and motivation.

New year.

New me.

Gym era.

Salad era.

“ Watch me become an entirely different person by Tuesday.”

Now… I don’t want to be a killjoy (okay, I do a bit), but it’s always felt strange to me that we’ve collectively agreed 1st January is the day we must become improved versions of ourselves, as if personal growth works like a light switch.

Because here’s the thing: the first week of January isn’t a blank page. It’s more like… the same book, slightly damp, with a few extra crumbs in it.

Resolutions are easy to make when everyone’s caught up in the “fresh start” hype.

They’re also easy to break when real life walks back in and goes, “Hi. Remember me? I’ve brought laundry.”

And when they break?

Oh, here she comes… your inner critic.

Mine’s called Naggy Nora. She LOVES a failed resolution. One wobble and she’s on it like a seagull on chips:

“See? You never stick to anything.”

“Told you you’d give up.”

“Honestly, why do you even try?”

Charming!

Let’s be real: it’s wet, dark, and cold. Some brave souls decide a daily run is a great idea… and I genuinely salute them. But for many people, after a few days of being soaked through and questioning every life choice at 7am, that running kit gets promoted to “bottom-of-the-wardrobe archaeology.”

So here’s my blunt truth: Becoming a new, better version of yourself takes real work.

Not “buy a notebook and reinvent yourself” work.

Not “announce it loudly online” work.

Real, sometimes uncomfortable, habit-building, nervous-system-settling work.

And you can’t do that properly if you’re using shame as your coach.

So I’m not doing resolutions. I’m doing intentions.

Intentions don’t rely on hype.

They don’t demand perfection.

They don’t need an arbitrary date to be valid.

You can set an intention on a random Thursday.

Or on the day you go back to work and immediately want to throw your laptop out the window.

Here are the intentions I’m taking into this year:

Every day is a new start.

Yesterday doesn’t get to run today.

If yesterday was messy, today is still a fresh page.

Be present to now.

This moment is the only one we actually get.

Once it’s gone… it’s gone.

And because I like things to be practical (not just poetic), here’s how I’m making those intentions stick when January starts doing what January does:

The “Back-to-Real-Life Reset” (60 seconds)

When you feel yourself getting swept up in the first-week-back chaos — the inbox, the school run, the to-do list, the why is everyone asking me questions — try this:

1) Plant your feet.

Both feet on the floor. Feel the contact. Don’t overthink it.

2) Drop your shoulders.

Unclench your jaw. Unfurrow your brow.

Yes, your brow. I see you.

3) Breathe low and slow (3 rounds).

In through the nose for 4…Hold for 2…Out through the mouth for 6…(Like you’re fogging up a mirror.)

4) Name it, don’t become it.

Quietly say:

“I’m noticing stress.”

“I’m noticing pressure.”

“I’m noticing overwhelm.”(You’re reminding your brain: this is a feeling, not a life sentence.)

5) Choose one tiny next step.

Ask: “What’s the next kind, sensible thing?”

Not the whole plan.

Not the rest of the year.

Just the next step.

Examples:

“Make a cup of tea before I answer anything.”
“Reply to one email, not twelve.”
“Get the kids sorted, then reassess.”
“Five minutes of fresh air.”
“Write a list so my brain can stop holding it all.”

6) Finish with this line (because it works):

“I can do hard things… one small step at a time.”

The “Intentions that stick” method (simple and doable)

Intention: What kind of person am I practising being?

Tiny action: What’s the smallest version of this I can do on a busy day?

Reset phrase: What will I tell myself when I wobble?

Examples:

Intention: “I want to feel calmer.”
Tiny action: 3 slow breaths before I open my emails.
Reset phrase: “I’m allowed to begin again.”
Intention: “I want to move my body more.”
Tiny action: 10 minutes. Not an hour. Ten.
Reset phrase: “Something counts.”
Intention: “I want to be kinder to myself.”
Tiny action: Speak to myself like I’d speak to my best friend.
Reset phrase: “Naggy Nora isn’t in charge.”

A quick script for when your inner critic starts up.

When Nora (or her cousin, Captain Doom) pipes up, try this:

“Thanks for your opinion. I’m not taking advice from shame today.”

Then do the next tiny action anyway.

Because growth isn’t an all-or-nothing event. It’s a practice — especially when you’re tired, back at it, and running on leftover Quality Street.

One more thing I love (and it’s ridiculously good for the brain) - A Good Stuff Jar.

Each week (or whenever you remember), write down one good thing that happened, pop it in a jar, and include the date.

Big wins count.

Tiny wins count.

“Didn’t cry in the staff room / car park / Tesco” absolutely counts.

Then, later in the year, you empty the jar and spend a delicious hour reading the evidence that your life contained good things — even in the weeks your brain tried to delete.

Bonus idea: start it on your birthday instead of New Year. Imagine opening it the next birthday like a gift from Past You.

And of course we all need some mini journaling prompts: