Beyond Resolutions
By February, gym memberships gather dust, meditation apps sit unopened on our phones and that savings plan just went out the window with an impromptu weekend away. We typically interpret this as failure – another data point in the spreadsheet of our shortcomings. But perhaps we're missing something profound in this annual ritual of resolution and abandonment. What if our abandoned New Year's resolutions aren't evidence of our weakness, but rather testimony to our fundamental freedom?
When we make resolutions, we often treat them as rational calculations about optimal behaviours, backed by productivity hacks and habit-tracking apps. We approach personal transformation as if it were a math problem waiting to be solved. But authentic transformation isn't just about deciding to change our behaviors – it's about choosing who we want to become.
This is where existentialist philosopher like Simone de Beauvoir, offers insight. Freedom isn't just a right we possess or a privilege we enjoy – it's the fundamental condition of human existence. We are "condemned to be free." Each moment presents us with the possibility of choosing ourselves anew, and this radical freedom can create what existentialists call "anguish" – the vertigo of realising that we are wholly responsible for creating ourselves.
This anguish often manifests in our relationship with resolutions. When we pledge to exercise more, eat better, or master a new skill, we're not just deciding to modify our schedule – we're choosing a different version of ourselves into existence. The weight of this responsibility explains why we often retreat from our resolutions. It's easier to blame circumstances, time constraints, or lack of resources than to face the profound freedom we have to reshape our lives.
Yet here's where the existentialist perspective offers both challenge and comfort. The challenge is clear: we must accept that our choices – including our choice to abandon our resolutions – are expressions of our freedom rather than failures of our will. The comfort lies in understanding that this very freedom means each moment offers a fresh opportunity for authentic choice.
Moreover, these choices never occur in isolation. Our freedom is inherently intertwined with others'. When we choose ourselves, we simultaneously choose a vision of what humanity could be. The writer who commits to sharing their voice isn't just choosing personal expression; they're choosing to contribute to the collective human conversation. The activist who resolves to engage more deeply with their community isn't just deciding to attend more meetings; they're choosing to participate in shaping our shared future.
What if the next time we find ourselfs facing a broken resolution, we paused before reaching for the familiar comfort of self-judgment. Asking instead: What does this moment reveal about my freedom? What kind of person am I choosing to be? Because in the end, our relationship with our resolutions isn't about success or failure – it's about how we choose to exercise our fundamental freedom to create ourselves anew.