Opinion: I’m Tired of Reinventing Myself Every New Year
It started as an annual assignment in grade school, when I was around five or six years old. We had to write a New Year’s resolution. Every year, we turned in a reflection paper about how we wanted to start our year, including a bulleted list of specific things.
But if I were to write one today, it would start with an apology: “I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”
I can’t, for another year, pretend that I’m going to have my life fixed as soon as the clock strikes midnight on December 31. Sure, it was fun, maybe 20 years ago, when all I needed to fix were my bedtime, my grades, and a misunderstanding with my grade school best friend.
Somehow, I carried this annual homework into adulthood. It was still fun when it gave me genuine hope that I could change for the better. Yet, along the way, the list became longer and, frankly, more insufferable—especially in this age of curated social media personalities where everyone seems to live a perfect life: just got married, just bought a new house or car. A new pet!
ALSO READ
Something’s Gotta Give: The Killing of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson
The posts are supposed to be motivating, but why am I tired of seeing them in ads and every reel and TikTok video? Why do I feel like throwing up when I hear influencers, life coaches, gurus, fitness coaches, entrepreneurs, businesses, brands, and tarot card readers try to tell me what to do and not to do next year?
What I realized this year was that most of my resolutions don’t stick because they come from a place of pressure, not genuine motivation or hope. I realized that, maybe, my life is not some homework that needs to be completed by the first week of January. And unlike most TikTok content creators, I’m not a personality that can be reinvented and relaunched every week. I can’t simply dress up, change my hairstyle and personality, and reintroduce myself like a Sims character.
But know this: I tried. Even after high school, I made my lists. Every time I mustered the motivation to force myself to be a morning person, I failed. I signed up for a gym membership, only to miss my sessions. I tried to be more motivated at work and eat healthier. I did my homework. I made my lists. I really tried.
However, all my life, my lists have always been about what the world needs from me, not what I need from myself. This may be coming from a place of privilege, but why does next year have to be completely different or better? Why do I have to preempt what it has to offer? I don’t want to plan my whole year—the tiniest step, my next move, my travels. I don’t want to write a script and try so hard to stick to it.
But here’s a confession: I still made my list this year. I couldn’t help it.
But I’m not turning it in. I’m scrapping all the items and bullet points that the internet told me to include, along with the hyper-curated vision board of what 2025 should look like. I can’t promise to use that planner I got as a gift or to religiously write daily affirmations in a journal. I’ll probably miss a few gym sessions, but I’m not going punish myself for it. I will definitely not be doing oil pulling (please!), and I will skip the 10-step skincare routine. I won’t even dare to try detox juices and intermittent fasting (again). I’m also not going to follow some 70:30 money management rule (especially not in this economy). Instead, I’ll focus on making sure I can afford what I need, reward myself when I feel like I deserve it, and treat myself from time to time.
This year, there will be no room for fault-finding and fixing of things that were never broken to begin with. Maybe this year, I might even go a little insane if that’s what it takes to survive. Maybe this year won’t be as meaningful or fulfilling, but I’ll try my best to be a good person who has more realistic goals and pay more attention to what my heart needs. I’m just going to be human.
So, to my homeroom teachers, I’m sorry I’m not aiming for the perfect mark this year. I’m not writing my usual “New Year, New Me” resolution this time around. And that’s okay.
