Until my early 20s, my primary goal or resolution was survival. We had loving relatives, but we needed cash to pay the bills. My mom was a single parent who had to struggle to complete high school after I was born and prepare to support herself and me, so our “goals” were pretty simple. Roof over our heads, food to eat, clothes to wear, and work that paid the bills. Mom taught at the school I attended, and my fees were waived.
My uncle encouraged me to make a list of resolutions on the last day of the year during my school days. The amusing thing was that all of it was redundant stuff that got done anyway. I did well academically, was self-motivated, had good habits, and enjoyed doing chores.
Lists and deadlines are my survival tools, rather than resolutions, and I work best when the pressure is from within. Doubts creep in with the dreaded what-if, because my inner critic is always alive and well.
But let me take you back a few decades in time.
At 24, I worked in an advertising agency that transferred me to a different city. When Mom and I moved, our belongings consisted of a sewing machine, some cooking utensils, a couple of mattresses, a carton of books, and a suitcase of clothes.
Home was a one-room accommodation and a shared bathroom with another tenant. That’s all we could afford at the time. We spent the next few months balancing our budget with my tiny salary while Mom looked for a job.
When New Year’s Eve arrived, we were nearly broke. However, we needed things, so we made a list.
- An almirah
- A bike
- A refrigerator
- A mixer grinder
- A TV
- A string of pearls (My mom laughed because it didn’t quite go with the rest of the things on the list, but I knew she always wanted one, so I added it)
Things we now consider the bare necessities of life. Anyway, at the end of that year, I only managed to save enough to buy a small refrigerator and a mixer grinder. The almirah looked impossible even for the next year, so I rented a couple of chests of drawers.
I convinced myself that the bike was not that important because my office was just two kilometers from where we lived, so I walked, saving commute costs, which added to the savings. Little drops of water make the mighty ocean, after all. I was young, healthy, and the exercise kept me fit.
We gave tuitions to supplement our income. Eventually, Mom joined a nearby school as a teacher. I got a better-paying job, and life improved even as our “wants” increased along with our needs.
Three months into the New Year, there was a mega sale, and I proudly brought home a black and white CRT 14” TV. In those days, we only had a few hours of national TV. We loved our little TV even though I had to hold the antenna to watch anything continuously.
So, rather than make resolutions, I prefer to make lists. I maintain a notebook, where I write down all the things I want to do, and review it often.
Goals change depending on what stage of life we are in. The process of setting them is wonderful. It gives us that feeling of hope and optimism, that sense of “yes, I can.” Everything seems possible.
In my career as a sales and marketing manager and a soft skills trainer, making annual plans was a given. We talked of SMART goals. I blended these with my own lists.
But here’s what I’ve learned. “New Year, New Me” is a myth propagated by ads, social media challenges, and perhaps well-intentioned conversations. As if by flipping the calendar page, we can reinvent ourselves, lose weight, overhaul routines overnight, and fix everything that we did not accomplish last year.
Realistic resolutions
So, I try my best to only make a resolution I’ll stick to, something that’s realistic.
Take health, for example.
In Feb 2014, when I was diagnosed with diabetes, I resolved to reverse it. For people living with diabetes like me, there is extra pressure thanks to all the diet messages and advice from clueless people. Add to that the anxiety about meeting blood sugar goals.
I work hard to show diabetes who’s boss every day because it never takes a day off. But it influences every area of my life and is well worth the effort. I made a routine for myself, planned my meals, and set alarms for doing things on time. This has helped me stay on track.
I suppose I could say: I’ll sleep by 11 pm. I’ll do this, I’ll do that. But I know that won’t happen.
While the New-Me myth sounds motivating, it creates real pressure around food, body image, and lifestyle changes, not to mention unrealistic expectations along with all-or-nothing thinking. It ignores how complex health is and leads to shame and burnout.
So, I choose to pick New Year, Same Me, Growing. Stronger habits, more self-compassion, and clearer goals, like: I’ll walk for 15 minutes after dinner three days a week. Because that’s doable.
I really don’t have to become a different person. All I need are goals that respect who I am, my lived experience, and my unique health journey. Small, consistent changes beat big, dramatic resolutions every single time.
My Mom taught me something important that I’ve engraved in my psyche. She said,
“Do not mistake pleasure for happiness. There’s a big difference.”
Today, at 62, I resolve to just BE. This year, I’ll declutter my home, travel a lot, spend time with family and friends, and take care of my health. I’ll do things that make me happy. At the end of the day, when I get to bed, if I am smiling, I will consider it a great day.
