Every January, we make promises we already don’t trust
By January, most of us already know how this goes: we make all the new year resolutions, again.
We make the list.
We feel the surge.
And somewhere, quietly, there’s a part of us that’s not fully convinced.
Because this isn’t the first time we’ve promised ourselves change.
It’s just the first time this year.
There’s a subtle grief in New Year resolutions —
the grief of wanting to believe in ourselves again.
This grief makes sense — especially if you’re still carrying the belief that you need to become someone else to begin again.
And instead of listening to that grief, we override it with bigger promises, stricter plans, higher expectations.
As if intensity could replace trust.
Why discipline is the wrong place to start
We’ve been taught that if change doesn’t last, it’s because we weren’t disciplined enough.
Not committed enough.
Not serious enough.
But discipline is a terrible place to start when your life is already stretched thin.
There were years when my days didn’t end at night — they ended around 3 a.m.
I worked long hours, went to construction sites early in the morning, had technical meetings at night, and did payroll in the quiet hours of the madrugada because that was the only time I could focus.
There was no margin.
No spaciousness.
No extra energy lying around waiting to be optimized.
So of course I’d sign up for the gym.
That’s what disciplined people do, right?
And of course, that story ended the same way it does for so many of us:
Today there’s no time. I’ll go tomorrow.
Or I’d run into someone on the way and detour.
Or life would simply win.
It wasn’t a lack of discipline.
It was a mismatch between the plan and the reality of my life.
The hidden emotional contract behind new year resolutions
Most resolutions carry an unspoken emotional contract.
If I do this, then I’ll be worthy.
If I succeed, then I’ll finally respect myself.
So we choose goals that reflect who we think we should be —
not what our nervous system can actually support.
Exercise became one of those “nice-to-have” things.
Almost indulgent.
Massages? Forget it. Those were luxuries for people with time.
And that’s the trap.
When self-care is framed as something you earn later,
it never quite arrives.
Motivation fades, identity remains
One day, in the middle of all that busyness, something shifted — quietly.
I came across a woman on YouTube who shared one-minute and three-minute yoga videos.
One minute.
And yes, part of me thought, This won’t do anything.
Because in the body, objectively, it wouldn’t create visible change.
But another part of me knew something else:
I do have one minute.
So I started there.
No outfit.
No mat ritual.
No identity shift.
Just one minute.
Over time — and it really did take time — one minute became three.
Three became five.
Five became ten.
Sometimes I’d mix them.
I already did three; maybe I’ll do another.
Much later — much — it became half an hour.
Not because I forced it.
But because my system learned something new.
Not that I was disciplined.
But that I mattered enough to be met where I was.
And that changes everything.
Why one minute actually matters
Here’s the part most people miss.
One minute of movement won’t transform your body.
That’s true.
But it does something far more important at the beginning:
it creates internal space.
Space that says:
You matter.
You have time for yourself.
You don’t need to disappear from your own life to move forward.
That’s not a fitness result.
That’s a relationship shift.
And lasting change is always relational before it’s behavioral.
Research on tiny habits shows that small, safe actions create lasting change
When goals are born from self-rejection
Most goals fail long before the behavior does.
They fail at conception.
When a goal is born from the belief that who I am right now is not acceptable,
it carries that energy all the way through.
The gym wasn’t the problem.
Exercise wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that the goal was designed for a life I wasn’t living.
And when your goals don’t honor your reality,
they don’t motivate you — they pressure you.
Pressure doesn’t create consistency.
It creates avoidance.
The nervous system doesn’t respond to pressure
Your nervous system isn’t inspired by ambition.
It’s organized around safety.
When your days are already packed, your nights already short,
and your mind already overloaded,
adding another demand doesn’t register as growth.
It registers as threat.
So the system does what it’s designed to do:
it resists, delays, detours.
Not because you’re lazy —
but because you’re protecting yourself.
Once I stopped asking my body to become something else
and started inviting it into what was actually possible,
everything softened.
And from that softness, repetition became possible.
Consistency fails when safety is missing
Consistency is not a personality trait.
It’s a response to safety.
When your system trusts that showing up won’t cost you more than you can give,
it shows up again.
One minute was safe.
Three minutes were safe.
Five minutes were safe.
Half an hour came much later —
not as a requirement, but as a natural expansion.
Safety creates repetition.
Repetition creates consistency.
Consistency creates change.
In that order.
Why intensity feels productive (but isn’t)
Intensity feels good at first.
It gives the illusion of control.
Of seriousness.
Of being “all in.”
But intensity skips relationship.
It bypasses the question:
Can I actually sustain this without abandoning myself?
And when the answer is no, intensity collapses — usually into guilt.
Real growth doesn’t ask for everything at once.
It asks for something you can return to.
Again.
And again.
The real reason resolutions collapse
Most resolutions don’t collapse because you failed.
They collapse because they were built on contradiction.
You were trying to move forward
while standing against yourself.
You wanted change,
but the way you asked for it required self-erasure.
So eventually, something had to give.
And what gives is usually the resolution —
not because it wasn’t important,
but because it wasn’t kind.
From goals to self-relationship
This is the shift that makes everything else possible.
Instead of asking, What should I do?
ask, How am I relating to myself while I do it?
Goals are external.
Relationship is internal.
When your relationship with yourself is built on presence,
your goals stop feeling like demands
and start feeling like directions.
You don’t need more goals.
You need a relationship that can sustain them.
What actually creates lasting change
Lasting change rests on three simple pillars:
Honesty — about where you are.
Direction — about where you’re going.
Consistency — that doesn’t punish you for being human.
This is where most approaches fail.
They ask for direction without honesty,
and consistency without compassion.
But change works when all three exist together.
Building habits from where you are
You don’t lower the standard when you start small.
You change the point of support.
One minute wasn’t settling.
It was strategic.
It told my system:
You’re included.
You’re not being overridden.
From there, expansion became organic.
You can’t build a future from a starting point you refuse to acknowledge.
Honoring where you are is not giving up.
It’s choosing a foundation that won’t collapse.
Discipline isn’t the reason changes last — and research shows why willpower alone doesn’t create lasting behavior change.
Small promises you can keep
Trust with yourself isn’t built through big declarations.
It’s built through promises you actually keep.
Small ones.
Ordinary ones.
Ones that don’t require heroics.
One minute you can show up for.
One decision you don’t override.
One moment where you choose repair instead of quitting.
Every kept promise tells your system:
I can rely on myself.
And that trust is what allows you to expand.
When progress looks quieter than expected
Real progress is rarely loud.
It doesn’t announce itself.
It doesn’t come with instant gratification.
Often, it looks like less drama.
More presence.
Fewer internal negotiations.
And because it’s quiet, we mistake it for not working.
But quiet change is usually the kind that lasts.
This is why most resolutions don’t survive February
By February, the initial motivation is gone.
What’s left is the relationship you built in January.
If that relationship was harsh, demanding, or conditional,
your system will eventually opt out.
Not out of failure —
out of self-preservation.
Resolutions don’t survive February
because pressure can’t replace safety.
What to choose instead of resolutions
Instead of resolutions, choose direction.
Direction allows flexibility.
It adapts without collapsing.
Instead of rigid goals, choose intentions
that can be practiced even on imperfect days.
Instead of intensity, choose consistency that respects your reality.
These choices don’t feel dramatic.
But they are powerful.
Change works when you stop working against yourself
Change doesn’t require you to become someone else.
It requires you to stop standing in opposition to who you are.
When you build from where you are —
when you honor your reality
and move forward with consistency instead of force —
change stops feeling like a battle
and starts feeling like alignment.
That’s why this time can be different.
Not because you tried harder.
But because you finally chose yourself as the starting point.