According to US Government studies, 45 to 50 percent of Americans make New Year resolutions. But 25 percent of these have been broken by the end of the FIRST week; 46 percent will be broken by the end of the first month and by the six-month mark, forget about it. So, with these odds, why do we continue, year after year, to make them?
Where did this exercise in futility come from? Why don’t they stick? And, what’s a reasonable person to do?
Why do we make them?
Vestiges of Puritanism — of striving for improvement through self-examination and self-discipline — reside deep within the American psyche. Layer onto that the also profoundly American tenet of being the shining example, the “city on the hill” and we arrive at a self-involved national ethos that values perfection, self-control and moral superiority. Last I checked, though, we’re human and perfection is a moving target. Making resolutions gives us a false sense of control over our innately human natures and feeds into our need for big gestures.
Whose idea was this anyway?
While making New Year’s resolutions seems uniquely American, it seems we have the Babylonians to thank for initiating this now quaint custom. Back in the day (600-500 BCE), the ancients set aside the advent of the new year to wipe the slate clean. And because their cultural contributions often came from their need to delineate property, they used the day to settle accounts and return borrowed farm equipment. Ironically, the Puritan-esque ritual of self-improvement was, for the Babylonians, infused with some pagan superstition: they believed that as the first day went, so went the year.
Why don’t they stick?
Change is just plain hard. If it were easy, we wouldn’t have to make resolutions that rely on an annual psychic kick in the pants in the first place. And we wouldn’t have hot and cold running professionals trained to midwife the process. And we wouldn’t be supporting a flourishing self-help industry.
If we have the societal norms, the personal interest and the opportunity, why isn’t good, old-fashioned willpower enough to get the job done? Because change is difficult for a reason: everything in our being is hard-wired for survival and our ever-vigilant pre-historic selves perceived change as threatening. Nature always prefers a steady state so effecting real and lasting change is like defying gravity.
As with crash dieting, shocking the system with an annual “cleanse” rarely results in sustained change. Sure our willpower will work for a while and we can drop some pounds quickly but don’t they usually come back, and then some? The reason? Willpower is tough to sustain — deprivation and that survival thing just don’t jibe — and again, the natural order conspires against us.
Man-made resolutions just can’t stand up to the powerful imperative of survival.
And, to add insult to injury, if we’re intent on designating one moment in time as the day we set about changing, we’ve chosen the exact wrong one, as the first day of our New Year is in the heart of Winter. Not only is the metaphor of new growth anachronistic but winter is a time of short days, of hibernation, of hunkering down, of conserving not expending energy. Why did it work for the Babylonians? Aha! According to their calendar, the first day of the New Year fell in the Spring, a genuine time of new beginnings. At least that makes some sense.
What’s a reasonable person to do?
Change is possible but it takes more than an annual resolution to make it so.
As we said before, if change were easy to effect, we would have done it already. So we procrastinate because the task is daunting and it takes gravity-defying effort to overcome the status quo. Besides, just “resolving” doesn’t help us figure out what’s been in our way.
Neuroscience says that if the change is too big (threatening) we resist and shut down in the name of survival. Lasting, measurable change can only take root with strong commitment, incremental modifications and an element of accountability. By proceeding gradually, we can accommodate shifts in circumstance, allowing us to reframe and recalibrate along the way. And while we’re at it, why think about change only at the beginning of the calendar year? Instead, each sunrise is an actual new beginning, with its inherent promise and opportunity.
Large scale, immediately gratifying change is the stuff of myth. If we’re serious, smaller cumulative victories over time are both attainable and definitely preferable to the disappointing fall-out of failed resolutions.