Every January 1st, after the ‘last’ night of giving into my inhibitions, I sit down with the same audacity as someone who’s just bought a gym membership, swearing this is the year I’ll stick to my New Year's resolutions. Spoiler: It’s a bald-faced lie. As I sat with my friends, listening to them declare their new livelihoods in the name of the "new year," I couldn’t help but ask myself: why do we keep making New Year’s resolutions when we know they’re often more fantasy than reality?

New Year’s resolutions are like highlight reels of our ambitions: shiny, inspiring, and entirely disconnected from the fact that we’re just trying to make it through the week without forgetting to take the trash out. By February, the daily journaling routine you swore you’d adopt has turned into a doom scroll through TikTok, and your meticulously planned meals have devolved into eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s at 11:30 p.m.

We treat resolutions with the same overconfidence as signing up for a year-long gym membership. It’s not that we don’t try; we just forget we’re human. We’re optimistic to a fault, convinced that this year will somehow be the one where we get it all together.

Take, for example, the classic “self-care” resolution. The first week, you’re journaling and sipping herbal tea. Fast forward a few weeks, and self-care is door-dashing fast food at 11 p.m. while binge-watching the exact show you’ve already seen five times—all while simultaneously procrastinating your schoolwork. The intention was there, but the execution? Ironically flawed.

And then there’s the school-life balance promise we make to ourselves. “No emails after 8 p.m., more breaks, fewer late nights,” we declare with so much resolve it feels like we’ve already accomplished it. Until reality sets in—deadlines loom, assignments pile up, and suddenly, it’s 12:30 a.m., and you’re eating leftovers while proofreading your paper. We try to set boundaries to relieve stress, but we forget that the reality is: a new year doesn’t come with a lighter workload.

Even the simple “spend less, save more” goal gets derailed the moment you walk into Target for a notebook and leave with a new throw blanket, a scented candle, and $50 worth of makeup you definitely didn’t need. But hey, who can resist justifying it all with a little “new year, new me” rationale? After all, you survived last year—you’ve earned a treat.

But maybe that’s what makes resolutions worth making. They’re not about achieving perfection; they’re about embracing possibility. They remind us to hope, to dream a little bigger, and to laugh when life inevitably gets in the way. Because life’s not about flawless execution; it’s about showing up, trying, and figuring it out as you go.

So, this year, I’m leaning into what already makes me happy, messy and imperfect as it might be. Maybe the best resolution isn’t about becoming someone new but learning to love the person you already are. 

And if that doesn’t pan out? Well, there’s always next year. Because when it comes to resolutions, the only guarantee is this: we’ll keep making them, breaking them, and laughing at ourselves all the way into the end of February. And maybe that’s the best tradition of all.