Several years ago, I swore off New Year’s Resolutions. Resolutions, for me, had become toxic. Improvement had become synonymous with perfectionism, and I was setting myself up for failure. The New Year was not an exciting new chance, but a terrifying test that I would inevitably bomb. And even though I’ve stepped away from resolutions, diet culture, and a culture of constant progress, I still struggle when a new year starts.
Capitalism doesn’t help. Companies have seized on the chance to use New Year’s to cash in on everyone’s insecurities and dissatisfactions. Advertisements everywhere generously offer enticing deals on gym memberships, diet plans, skincare regimens, and self-improvement journeys, each one telling you are not enough and never will be unless you spend money on their products.
The highly religious culture I grew up in doesn’t help either. After all, it’s easier to broadcast your own godliness via prosperity theology than actually focusing on kindness, selflessness, and goodness. “I am nothing without God” gets skewed to become “I am nothing, unless I project my own godliness and perfection via physical beauty, monetary success, and aesthetic living.”
So, no, I don’t do Resolutions.
And yet, though maybe this is all semantic, I do like to set some low-stake intentions. For example, last year I planned to graduate (which was essentially inevitable) and read 12 books (low number, achievable). I graduated, and I read 24 books.
But I also traveled to Boston and Paris, started an Etsy business, began freelancing more consistently, and moved in with my boyfriend. None of those things happened because of resolutions— instead, I just prioritized the happiness of myself and my loved ones, and worked on the things I am passionate about.
That brings us to this year. Again, no resolutions. But, this year I do intend to learn how to make sushi. I think it would be fun to know how to make my favorite food.
That’s all, and that’s enough.