Why I’m Not Making New Year’s Resolutions

After two years of a global pandemic, with many suffering as a result, perhaps we could be kinder to ourselves come January?

So another Christmas has come and gone, and despite the precarious times we find ourselves in, many of us were fortunate enough to see loved ones and partake in the festivities. Perhaps, for a moment or two, we were able to lose ourselves in the good cheer, briefly forgetting the masks, divisions, restrictions, and large swathes of people who suffer so acutely during this time of year, pandemic or no. Now, a few pounds heavier, and with what is certain to be a more subdued New Year’s eve on the horizon, the pressure to impose resolutions looms.

Like clockwork, the internet will be abuzz with the theme of renewal: quitting what’s holding us back, striving for lofty aspirations, and making unrealistic goals. There is nothing inherently wrong with the desire to improve ourselves (I myself have written extensively on the subject) but what is abundantly clear is that the last two years have been severely taxing. Are we able to ask ourselves:

Do I have to make resolutions this year?

Is now the time to be giving my superego the reins, potentially setting myself up for self-criticism and dissatisfaction?

Is it enough to simply be?

I feel as if, by even asking these questions, I am bucking a time-honored trend. What little we know of recorded history shows that humans are naturally drawn to breaking up time’s continuum; of imbuing the cold movements of celestial bodies with imagination and significance. For better or worse, we live in a human world and nothing escapes our anthropocentric bent—from the moment of birth, we are programmed to ascribe meaning to certain days, feasts, and festivals.

Far from being cynical, I understand why a functioning society has these annual celebrations. A chief reason is the need to punctuate, and make bearable, the monotonous drudgery many people around the world endure. Indeed, during the Roman festival of Saturnalia (many of whose traditions we still celebrate at Christmas) the social order was upturned: senators who usually wore ornate robes displaying their status donned ordinary clothing, slaves and masters reversed roles, and everybody became very loud and drunk. By allowing its citizens a slither of liberty and permissiveness during the dark, cold days of Winter, the Romans were able to prevent the lingering discontent that fosters revolt.

It is to the ancient Romans we owe our calendar, with Julius Ceasar adjusting it in 46 B.C to have January 1st be the start of the new year. The first month of the year was named after the two-faced God Janus who symbolized looking backward into the previous year and ahead into the future. But the practice of New Year’s resolutions goes back even further than ancient Rome.

Roughly 4000 years ago, the ancient Babylonians held their own New Year’s celebrations — though for them the year began in mid-March when the barley was planted. What occurred was a huge 12-day religious festival called Akitu and, while the purpose of the festival is still debated among historians, what is generally agreed upon is its pivotal role in the regular framing of an agenda, along with a collective reaffirmation of loyalty to the reigning king. The Babylonians also made vows to the gods to pay their debts and return any objects they had borrowed, and there is a case to be made that these promises are the precursor to our own New Year’s resolutions.

While we may only be cognizant of the tip of the iceberg (our long and complex history lying beneath the surface) the need and inclination to impose structure on the universe is not something so easily dismissed. In a sense, by abstaining from making New Year’s resolutions we engage in an act of quiet rebellion; relinquishing millennia of conditioning and the incessant pressures of our own culture: the ideologies of late-capitalism

It is undeniable that success — its means, methods, and actualization — sells. Far from being contrarian, my reason for writing this was not to bash self-improvement outright but to speak to those who may not be best placed to march to the beat of society’s drum. I want to encourage those who suffer from mental or physical health issues; those who have been forced to isolate during Christmas; those who have recently lost a friend or family member to know you are not alone. Despite the clarion call to “be better”, or social media’s constant stream of manufactured happiness, all this pressure is nothing but a convincing illusion. Yes, like all of us, you may have flaws, creases that could be ironed out, goals you want to achieve, but this can all happen at any time. Perhaps, despite the whims of Julius Ceasar, now is not the most opportune juncture to become your “best self”.

So, knowing that personal development cannot always be enforced, I won’t be making any New Year’s resolutions. I will permit myself to improve at my own pace when the time is ripe, perhaps in June, September, or several years. Of course, it could very well happen now, but it also may take a while until I find myself in a situation more conducive to positive change — and that’s okay. The last two years have been incredibly difficult for a lot of us, and it may take time to adjust, to integrate, to feel grounded once again. So I urge you to pay little heed to the noise that ushers in yet another year, nor the critical voice in your head that scolds your lack of ambition—you are perfect as you are.

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