Fuck Your New Year’s Resolution (Be That Person Every Day)
Fuck Your New Year’s Resolution (Be That Person Every Day)
TL;DR
- A “New Year’s resolution” sounds like discipline, but the word resolution is literally about loosening and undoing—not becoming some new upgraded version of you.
- “Re-solution” is a tell: it implies you’re back to re-do what didn’t stick last time.
- The calendar isn’t authority. January isn’t a coronation.
- Stop treating yourself like a problem to engineer. Start practicing identity like it’s a daily discipline.
- If you want a real standard: be that person every day—especially on random Tuesdays when nobody’s watching.
There’s something hilarious about the most socially accepted form of self-deception being a party.
Champagne. Fireworks. Group chats.
And right in the middle of it, you announce to the universe (and your short attention span):
“This year I’m going to change.”
No you’re not.
Not because you’re incapable. Not because you’re broken. But because the ritual is designed to feel like transformation without requiring transformation.
A New Year’s resolution is a culturally-sanctioned way to buy the feeling of change on credit.
And if you want the punchline?
The word itself tells on you.
“Resolution” is already an admission
People say “resolution” like it means strength.
Like it’s a sword.
But the word has a quieter, older meaning: to loosen, untie, undo.
According to Etymonline, resolution comes from the Latin resolvere: re- (“back/again”) + solvere (“to loosen, unfasten, set free; undo”). Resolution – Online Etymology Dictionary
So at the root, resolve isn’t “I’m finally going to be disciplined.”
It’s closer to:
- “I’m going to untie this knot.”
- “I’m going to dissolve this tension.”
- “I’m going to break this down until it stops bothering me.”
That’s why the “re-solution” wordplay hits.
Because when you say you need a re-solution, what you’re really saying is:
“My last solution didn’t work, so I’m back to solve the same shit again.”
And you’re announcing it like it’s progress.
New Year’s resolutions are time-based identity theater
Underneath the confetti, the structure is always the same:
- I’m not that person now.
- I will try to become that person later.
- The calendar gives me permission to start over.
It’s not transformation.
It’s procrastination with fireworks.
You’re using time as a scapegoat.
As if January has some spiritual firmware update that drops at midnight.
As if the universe goes:
“Ah yes, the Gregorian calendar has turned. Here are your new habits.”
Be serious.
The calendar doesn’t crown you
January doesn’t anoint you.
Midnight doesn’t upgrade you.
The year changing doesn’t change you.
What changes you is what you do when it’s not cute.
When it’s not public.
When it’s not a vibe.
When nobody’s clapping.
When it’s a random Tuesday and the only witness is your own nervous system.
That’s why the standard is simple:
Be that person every day.
Not “I’m going to fix myself.”
Not “I’m going to re-solve myself.”
Be.
You’re not a problem to solve
This is the part that people don’t get because we’ve been trained to talk about ourselves like projects.
Your life becomes an endless engineering cycle:
diagnose → plan → fail → guilt → “new plan” → repeat
And here’s the trick: if you start from the assumption that you are fundamentally unfinished, you will always find evidence.
There will always be another flaw.
Another metric.
Another upgrade.
Another “next version.”
That mindset doesn’t create freedom.
It creates a permanent sense of being behind.
But if you start from a different premise—I’m already complete—then the mission changes.
The goal isn’t self-repair.
It’s alignment.
Not:
- “How do I become disciplined?”
But:
- “What does the disciplined version of me do today?”
- “What does the honest version of me say in this moment?”
- “What does the strong version of me do when it’s boring?”
Completeness doesn’t mean you stop growing.
It means you stop growing from self-hatred.
The hidden function of a resolution: loosening guilt
Remember that Latin root again: solvere—to loosen.
A lot of people “resolve” in January the way they “detox” on Monday.
Not because they’re committed.
Because they’re uncomfortable.
A resolution is often just a pressure valve:
- You feel guilty.
- You promise you’ll be different.
- The promise loosens the guilt.
- You feel relief.
- You don’t change.
You didn’t commit.
You relieved.
You loosened the tension of being disappointed in yourself.
That’s literally solvere.
And it explains why people love announcing resolutions.
The announcement itself gives them the emotional payoff.
They get the feeling of a new life without the labor of a new life.
Abolish the calendar as your authority (a small manifesto)
You want a different year?
Stop waiting for one.
Stop outsourcing your standards to a holiday.
Stop letting a date on a screen decide when you’re allowed to be serious.
Here’s the swap:
- Practice, not promise.
- Embodiment, not announcement.
- Daily identity, not annual identity theater.
Because if you can only be “that person” when the year is fresh, you’re not that person.
You’re playing dress-up.
And if you are that person—if it’s real—then it shows up on January 4th.
On February 12th.
On a random Tuesday.
When you’re tired.
When nobody’s watching.
When the fireworks are gone.
So yeah.
Fuck a New Year’s resolution.
Be that person every day.
Sources
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If you’re building something big and you’re done performing “discipline” instead of operationalizing it, start here: