When New Year’s Resolutions Fail: A Gentler Way to Create Lasting Change

We are several weeks into January as I write this, and my Instagram algorithm is buzzing. Discounted gym memberships. High-protein recipes that technically resemble meals and are somehow all loaded with cottage cheese. Products that brightly promise this is YOUR year. The year you finally become who you’ve always wanted to be.

Or at least, that’s what they’re selling.

Each company claims to have the process, the solution, or the product that will magically transform you into a disciplined, fit, calm version of yourself. One you might barely recognize twelve months from now. And honestly? It works. I find myself captivated by mental images of me succeeding with their product, and suddenly I want to give them all my money.

As I scroll past these flashy promises and carefully curated photos, I’m left with a mixture of irritation, curiosity, and exhaustion.

Could this work?

Would this really make me a new me?

Part of me knows these are marketing efforts aimed directly at our dreams and vulnerabilities at the start of every year. And still, I’m lured in by the taglines and the daydreaming imagining how this thing might finally change me.

At the same time, I feel weighed down. Tired. Because we’ve all been down this road before.

We know that in a few weeks, many of us will be hitting snooze instead of hitting the gym. Running through the drive-thru instead of prepping hard-boiled eggs. Scrolling TikTok rather than ending our evenings with journaling, breathwork, or a red light. And yet, it’s hard to resist marketing that speaks so directly to our longings to be healthier, steadier, more whole.

There’s a reason the health and wellness industry is a $2.3 trillion industry in the United States. We are deeply hungry for growth and change. If a pill, a monthly injection, a new journaling method, or a workout regimen promises to get us there, we’re ready to add it to the cart.

Many of us repeat this cycle every January, only to find that by the time spring flowers bloom, the habits, and the hope attached to them, have quietly fallen away. I know I have.

A few weeks in, I’m often left with the same familiar thoughts:

“I just couldn’t make it stick like her.”
“I don’t know why I try.”
“What is wrong with me?”

But what if this flashy, over-marketed version of growth isn’t how we grow at all?

We don’t abandon new habits because we don’t care. We abandon them because something inside of us feels threatened…exhaustion, pressure, disappointment, fear of failure, or the loss of comfort. Our nervous systems respond long before our minds catch up.

What if we shifted the question from “What is wrong with me?” to “What’s happening inside of me right now?”

This subtle shift moves us from shame to curiosity and that shift matters. Shame pulls us inward, spiraling our thoughts and disconnecting us from courage and resilience. Curiosity, on the other hand, invites us to slow down, notice our internal world, and take small, meaningful steps toward the life we want to build.

And that makes all the difference.

Instead of shame-filled identity statements, what if we practiced asking gentler questions? Questions that increase curiosity and reduce self-criticism?

• What changed in my body before this habit fell away?

• What pressure did I add without realizing it?

• What did this habit represent emotionally (hope, control, self-worth)?

• What was I longing for when I decided to make this change?

When a habit doesn’t stick, it may be an invitation to listen more closely … not try harder.

Growth begins with curiosity and self-compassion, not rigid force. To grow in this way, we have to slow down. We have to pay attention to our thoughts, our bodies, and our emotions. And we have to learn to ask ourselves kinder, more honest questions.

This year on the blog, I’ll be writing a year-long series called Growing From Within. It feels fitting to begin in January, when so many of us are reflecting on who we want to become and how we want to grow.

This year, I want us to slow down. To honor the complexity of our lives. To dig deep. Not rush ahead.

I hope you’ll join us as we learn to grow from within.