How to keep a resolution
The secret is...be yourself
It is a VERY well (embarrassingly well….) documented fact that I love me a New Year’s resolution.
Uh…..
I’ve written about choosing my word for the year.
And my journal prompts for the end of the year.
And my year in failures.
And another year in failures!
And a new way to see a new year.
And a new year theme!
Geez louise.
I need a new hobby.
In fairness to me, the New Year provides an opportunity to indulge in a few of my top obsessions: making goals, creating rituals, reminiscing, being overly nostalgic, being unwarrantedly hopeful, and—most of all—admiring a blank slate and wondering what could possibly fill all that glorious nothingness!!
I don’t know nearly as much about the Myers-Briggs Personality Types as I do the Enneagram, but the internet seems to suspect I am an INFP—the “P” referring to a preference for flexibility, spontaneity, keeping options open, and preferring to adapt to situations as they arise rather than rigidly sticking to a plan.
(I have married a definite “J” whose need for planning and structure leads him to believe this is who I am at the airport.)
My fellow Ps: Do you, too, see the New Year as your own personal art project??
I imagine it as a white empty room stocked only with paints, clay, markers, and craft supplies for me to CREATE in. It puts me in a fun and unusual position of power; I am the Victor Frankenstein of my own year ahead.
How will I make it, what will I make, what will it become, and who will I become in response?
I am SHIVERING in excitement just typing that out!
Since I have decades of experience making entire mural-wide matrixes of goals and intentions and themes and motivating visuals (somehow, this is different from a “vision board,” but I can’t tell you how…), I’ve learned what works when it comes to sticking with resolutions.
A few of them, ten years ago, quite actually changed my life:
I’ll just go ahead and tell you right now, and this is one of my big secrets to life:
The resolution that works is the one you’ll actually do.
I shall explain.
Some January evening in my early 20s, I came home to find four liters of beet juice taking up 90% of my small refrigerator.
“Uhh…Beth,” I called to my roommate, “Do you have a massive B9 vitamin deficiency I should know about?”
Beth explained: “My goal this year is to eat more vegetables. But I don’t know how to cook them, and I probably won’t get around to learning. So, I’m going to have a glass of some kind of vegetable juice every morning. I’m starting with beets.”
A laser light show turned on in my head.
At the time, I was studying nutrition and loved cooking and eating vegetables, but I was just beginning to accept the horrible fact that not everybody on earth is exactly like me.
Beth had like 14 jobs and found no joy in learning about the plants of earth. If her resolution was to “Make vegetable dishes for optimal nutrient absorption and learn to love the varied textures and flavors of local produce,” it would probably last one day.
But I still know her to pick up a green juice on her way to her (one) job today.
My big revelation:
A goal becomes real when it meets the person you actually are.
Here is how goals have met the person I actually are. I mean, am…
Goals have to feel good.
I’m not talking about feeling good about myself as a person while working toward my goals.
I’m talking about….they actually have to feel good to me, physically.
We are embodied creatures, not floating brains with planners.
Basic example:
I had to start taking vitamins when I found out I was pregnant, but I don’t like the physical sensation of swallowing vitamins, or the way you can accidentally chew on them and then you have an acrid chemical taste on your tongue the rest of the day.
My workaround: mild-flavored powdered superfoods and a multivitamin that tastes like mint (which was a lifesaver when I was too nauseated for any other flavor of anything!).
At first I tried making crazy kale smoothies and ordering every vitamin listed in the brochure the doctor gave me, but it soon became very clear that I would only take the nutrients I actually liked taking (or, at least didn’t mind taking), rather than the ones that taste like ass.
Astounding realization.
Another example: Someone must have stuck a needle in the mouth of the Voodoo doll they have of me, because my teeth are a wreck. I get my dumb teeth cleaned all the time and they’re always telling me to do more at home, like floss after eating anything. (Hello? I have a life???)
Side note: Evolution’s biggest flop is human teeth. A body part should not be this intricate to take care of!! Putting this complaint in God’s suggestion box.
I can handle flossing, but I will ONLY do it after every meal if my dental floss feels like a fluffy loofah and tastes like an affogato.
When I’m tired at night and the last thing I feel like attempting is a seven-step routine, I will ONLY tend to my skin if I get to spray this fabulous-feeling fancy acid on my face…and do literally nothing else.
When I reluctantly answer the authoritative voice in my head, “Yeah yeah, I know, I’ll put on sunscreen…” I will ONLY obey if I have a super sheer easy peasy good-feeling non-gloopy SPF conveniently staring at me from my cupboard.
Otherwise, forget it!
I have to enjoy the physical sensation of a chore or I just know it’s not going to happen.
The philosopher Epicurus—wildly misrepresented as a hedonist reclining on grapes—actually believed that simple, sustainable pleasures are the foundation of the good life.
Comfort isn’t indulgence; it’s strategy!
When vitamins taste like mint instead of actual poison, I’m living out an Epicurean truth: Pleasure helps you persist!
Floss-as-affogato? Epicurus would applaud.
Basic psychology agrees too: We repeat behaviors that feel good and avoid behaviors that feel bad! (Not morally good or bad—sensorially good or bad.)
The dopamine system is shockingly literal.
If your floss feels like flimsy wire: avoid.
If your floss feels like a tiny sponge: repeat.
Even tiny inconveniences dramatically reduce follow-through. Even mildly gross textures register as micro-threats!
Aversion to chalky vitamins? Oh, just my nervous system saying: “Hi, yes, we have not updated this software since the Pleistocene. Please stop trying to poison us!!”
Pleasure is how our species survived. If my vitamins taste like mint and my floss tastes like dessert, I’m actually being quite pragmatic! Goals must cooperate with the body that carries them.
And goals need the right environment to live in.
Pleasure opens the door; the environment holds it open.
Mr. Mari admits that he judges people who show up at the gym with all the pricey clothes and fancy gear, while the hardest workers are more often in ratty old t-shirts and none of the glamorous equipment.
After all, he writes literal poetry about the beauty of no-frills basement gyms where the resonance is in the encouraging grunts and shoulder-pats between men who wouldn’t be caught dead in a spin class. In fact, it’s a sacred place for him.
I argue with him that sometimes it takes the fancy stuff to get motivated in the first place! It certainly does for me.
I go to a gym that smells nice, I wear cozy workout clothes that feel like butter-drizzled heaven, I carry my extremely cute little giraffe water bottle, and I take classes where the teacher plays my kind of music (the second I hear industrial drum beats, I shrivel up and simply can’t move anymore!).
Research shows that context cues drive more behavior than intention does, and I happen to like a context with cheery lighting and pop music!
One of my favorite books ever is The Architecture of Happiness, which I read during one of those insecure times of life when I was questioning my draw to frivolity—or at least to aesthetics over function. (It was pre-poptimism and nobody told me yet that you can be a smart and morally-sound person who also loves celebrity gossip and Nelly Furtado bangers.)
The book introduced the idea that place shapes the soul, and there are ethical arguments for aesthetically-uplifting environments.
We think we are creatures of willpower; we are actually creatures of surroundings.
Metalcore playing during my weightlifting class? Zero reps!!
Billie Eilish in the background, crooning that she wants me to stay til she’s buried in her grave, while I’m doing step aerobics? I’m an Olympian now!!
Fancy tools and good music and nice-smelling places are scaffolding, not vanity.
Of course, this is totally subjective. A basement gym feels sacred to Mr. Mari. A well-lit studio with Charli XCX remixes feels sacred to me. Both are spiritual ecosystems that support our desires.
I’ve belonged to a few gyms in my day, but the only one I go to consistently is the one with the sandalwood hand soap. A fun part of goal-setting is imagining an environment that supports your dreams, and either finding that sacred place, or creating it yourself.
I had to create my own art corner when I first started illustrating, which meant that I had to replace the adorable desk I got for free years ago with a functional drawing surface that didn’t cause me debilitating back damage. Sometimes, a supportive environment is one that literally supports you.
When the goal is doing less, strive for kind constraints.
Every single year on my New Year’s resolution list:
*stop playing with hair
*drink less
I thought the latter would be a piece of cake post-pregnancy. Nine months of sobriety would temper my tolerance, adjust my taste buds, and dampen my desire, yes?
“Hhahahaaaaa….” laughs my body, as she picks up exactly where she left off! High tolerance, high desire, high-shelf taste, sigh.
And I don’t even know where to begin with the hair twirling habit from hell.
However, from my therapist, I do have some “tools in my toolbox” (phrase also from my therapist).
When it comes to managing OCD and anxiety, she frequently has to remind me, “I’m not taking anything away from you” when we explore together how I can better live with it.
(People with such mental afflictions are usually attached to their obsessions, and it’s disorienting to envision getting rid of them!)
I repeat that phrase when I tell myself to curtail bad habits. Reduction isn’t punishment; it’s redesign.
“I’m not taking anything away from you,” I tell my inner child who pulls her comforting habits tighter when my adult self threatens to confiscate them.
The psychology term is harm reduction, but I prefer “kinder constraints,” “softer limits” or “supportive guardrails.” After all, my goal is balance. Less wine, not no wine; less hair-twirling, not a vow of follicular purity.
Usually, the things we want to quit or reduce are the exact things that get us through a damn day! The world can be so harsh; of course it makes sense that we’d all create our own little private retreats: alone time being entertained by a phone, a cheeky gulp of Beaujolais, an extra scoop of Ben & Jerry’s, a hair-pulling attack in the name of self soothing.
These are the adult versions of carrying a blankie around with a thumb in our mouths. So even the suggestion of eliminating these can feel untethering and even a little scary, like losing your teddy bear as a toddler.
Research (and my own life) shows that binary goals (“never again!”) fail far more often than flexible ones. Our brains revolt at absolutism, but relax into achievable tweaks. You don’t have to slam the door on a habit; sometimes you just need to crack the window!
For example…
*I had to take over a year off Instagram as a reset, but now I’m allowed to visit social media on my laptop. My “desktop-only Instagram” rule transformed a once-compulsive reflex into a librarian-level intentional ritual. Harm reduced, dignity restored!
*I can twirl my hair, but I limit my twirling area to a designated few hidden strands, so the damage effects are tucked away under an untouched messy mop.
*I can drink alcohol, but only on certain days of the week, and always along with this magical liver potion just to give my accessory organs a little boost.
I also allow myself to spend money on very high quality non-alcoholic wines, (or sneaky social tonics!) which guarantee much easier urge-surfing.
(I once tried the cheap N/A wines and they tasted like expired vinegar, so of course that resolution didn’t stick. With the good stuff, moderation feels glamorous, and the splurge is well worth it for the love of my pancreas!)
When the brain knows when pleasure is coming, it stops obsessing about it. Predictability reduces craving.
Mr. Mari has a very sophisticated co-worker with very sophisticated children who only get to watch movies (or anything on screen!) on Friday nights.
The sophisti-kids will whinge during the week about wanting to see a certain show, and Mama Sophisticate responds, “It’s not Friday yet!” which means they:
a) get what they want…at a designated time
b) get something to look forward to.
I do the same thing with myself when it comes to my own screen time, cocktails, staying up late, trashy TV shows:
“You can, sweetie…but not yet!”
My therapist also reminds me that pleasure is not only a big part of life, but a big motivator in life! Biologists might even say that we are designed for pleasure.
As Annie Dillard wrote, “How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.”
Not…“how we eliminate everything fun from our days.”
My days get richer when I remove just enough of something to create breathing room: Less scrolling, fewer dry gin martinis with a twist, hidden hair-twirling.
Not because I’m broken and bad, but because I’m curating my life like an editor trims a paragraph!
Which I can clearly do more of in 2026!!!!
And growth comes from tending what you already have, not longing for what you don’t.
When creative souls who KNOW they have something to say to the world ask me how to grow their audience, I gave the advice that I used myself:
Write for the audience you have, not for a hypothetical stadium full of strangers who haven’t found you yet.
For YEARS, I wrote for five subscribers. (One was my mom, one was a fake email address.)
I wasn’t writing for anyone else. Five readers aren’t “just” five readers; they were five (err, four) real humans inside my circle of influence.
And I wrote my little heart out for them as though they couldn’t wait to read a new post, as though they were hanging on every single word, as though they were reflecting on my essay and nothing else for the following week.
The Stoics insisted that the only domain we truly control is the present moment and the present relationship. Everything else: Outside the circle of control. Invisible audiences don’t open newsletters; real humans do. Who are those real humans, and how can I serve them?
Positive psychology agrees, and shows that attention amplifies whatever it’s directed toward. When we nurture something—even something tiny—it expands: “Don’t chase the crowd; tend the garden.”
Practical examples:
*If your goal is to “make more friends,” don’t worry about becoming a social butterfly with 20 invitations a week! Start by texting one friend you already have and asking how they’re doing. Friendship expands from tending the relationships already alive, not chasing hypothetical new ones.
*If your goal is to “be more creative,” don’t wait to start a massive art practice. Love the small thing you’re already doing: your doodles, your junk journaling, your tiny watercolors. Deepen that, rather than fantasizing about becoming a full-time painter by April. Rilke changed the world by writing letters to one poet! Depth over scale is the most rewarding way to create (take it from someone who’s tried both! :)
*If your goal is “save more money,” don’t start with an extreme budget overhaul; just increase your monthly savings by $25. A 10% increase in a habit you already do is statistically far more sustainable than a 100% overhaul. Small additions compound beautifully!
*If your goal is to “be more mindful,” don’t aim for 45-minute meditations. Just add one minute at the end of your shower to breathe and notice the water (this aromatherapy spray definitely helps!). A tiny mundane practice, repeated daily, becomes its own doorway. Buddhism teaches that practice—not transformation—is what changes us.
*If your goal is “cook more meals at home,” elevate the experience: Buy one beautiful pan, the best knife ever, or one spice blend that makes you feel like a royal chef. Suddenly you want to cook—not because you’re disciplined, but because the environment (see above!!) feels special.
*If your goal is “get more organized,” don’t try to declutter the entire house. Organize one drawer. Add one new system. More comes from touching one corner of your life with love—not from burning the whole thing down and starting over! (Telling this to myself as I continue to try and organize every inch of my apartment that insists on cluttering itself every time I turn around.)
*If you want to grow your readership, audience research shows that the most sustainable creators often grow from deep engagement with a small early group, not viral attention. Your strongest future advocates are the people you have right now, not the imaginary masses.
*If your goal is to read more, remember that you are you, and not a completely different person. For me, that means remembering that I’m more likely to finish books on audio (though I love starting them in physical form!). I’ve been meaning to get around to reading ‘James’ for ages, but now that I’m listening to it (and the audio version is a WORK OF ART!), I’m completely hooked and know I’ll be finishing it this week.
*If you want to volunteer, take it from me and commit to something you actually want to do!! For me, it’s also crucial that a regular commitment has an easy way to cancel or swap shifts, or it just won’t be sustainable. Two volunteer programs I find enjoyable to do and easy to commit to: occasionally baking a lasagna for a neighbor, weekly walking a dog.
Growth happens when we build on what already feels alive, not when we chase something we haven’t tended yet.
After all these Januaries of trying to become a shinier, tidier, more spiritually optimized version of myself, here’s the summary of what I’ve learned:
The resolutions that last—the ones that actually change my life—are always the ones rooted in reality, pleasure, kindness, and THE PERSON I ALREADY AM.
Not the fantasy version of me who wakes up at dawn charging into the day with discipline, not the monk who thrives on deprivation, and not the superhero who quits every vice and magically adopts twelve new habits by January 5th.
Just little ol’ Mari me: Minty-vitamin me, desktop-social-media me, responsible-hair-twirler me, giraffe-water-bottle-at-the-nice-smelling-gym me, one-drawer-at-a-time me.
(Dancing into 2018!)
Here is my revolution of adulthood:
I get to build a life that works with my nature, not against it!
I get to choose vitamins that taste good, and workouts that make me wiggle with delight, and environments that feel like a reward. I get to gently reduce the habits that nibble at my joy, and soften them with kinder constraints instead of exiling them to the underworld of shame. I get to grow more of what already feels alive, rather than chasing a fantasy life that doesn’t even know my name.
You get all this too! You get to tend the garden you’re actually in, not the one in your imagination.
Why did your soul choose your body?
Why did your soul choose your skills and gifts?
Why did your soul choose your desires?
I don’t believe it was random, and I believe all of these are beautifully connected.
Start where you are, build from what’s already working, let pleasure carry you the rest of the way.
And may your resolutions be deliciously doable, may your habits cooperate with your body, and may you meet yourself with enough tenderness to let your life grow in the direction it’s already leaning…because the best resolution you’ll ever make is the one that honors the person you actually are.
And the most beautiful part: That person (YOU) has everything they need to begin!
Doing more doesn’t have to feel like performing for your own expectations; it can feel like tending a flame that’s already lit. You don’t have to chase a bigger life—just feed the magic that’s already growing in yours!
Please don’t get a new hobby because this is the shoulders down / unclenched jaw / giant exhale I need every December. I’m INFJ and all the planning and scheming that final week of December is my personal Christmas… “making goals, creating rituals, reminiscing, being overly nostalgic, being unwarrantedly hopeful, and—most of all—admiring a blank slate and wondering what could possibly fill all that glorious nothingness!!” A thousand times yes.
This is EXACTLY what I needed to read this morning, Mari! THANK YOU 💖 Sometimes I feel guilty for pursuing so relentlessly the things I want to do in the way I want to do them when structuring my life but this is the perfect reminder that I’m working with my system not against it when I listen to my body and spirit and do what feels good to me! I also really appreciate the emphasis on being creatures of environment - where I’ve lived the last 18 months has felt like a very big struggle / I took a month to do street interviews in NYC in September/October and felt so energized just being there & realized how important it is for me to be in a place that makes me feel alive & not like I want to die all the time (bc I have a savior complex/martyr mentality I can convince myself I need to suffer for the greater good so I get stuck in these states till someone or something reminds me God wants us to have joy & that includes me!) Now I’m making the jump to move to NYC and will be there in the new year & my body and nervous system feels so relieved & happy about that. Thank you!!