Don’t be conned by ‘New Year, New You’
The first week of the year brings so much pressure. You can feel it in the air – a nervous energy, a deep longing, a collective anxiety that compels us to do better, to be better.
This is the year we shed the weight, the year we drink less and exercise more. It’s the year we finally achieve work-life balance, overhaul our love life, cut out carbs and stop putting our dreams in the too-hard basket.
And we must change. Because, ‘‘New Year, New You!’’
It’s a slogan that has helped line the pockets of the advertising industry and kept weight-loss companies in business for decades. And it has all but broken me in the past.
I can’t count how many times I’ve spent the first day of a new year frantically compiling a list of all the ways I must change, in the hope that by committing them to paper my failings will magically disappear. It’s an exercise in self-flagellation fuelled by a consumerist machine that has cleverly commodified our guilt.
But I refuse to participate any more. ‘‘New Year, New You’’ is a con. It’s a lie built on one of the most destructive human emotions – shame. It implies that there’s something wrong with the ‘‘old you’’.
You’re not thin enough, rich enough, attractive enough, relaxed enough. But if you just lose five kilos, buy this luxury car, sign up to this bootcamp, or order these breathable yoga pants, you could be.
It’s no wonder that about 80 per cent of New Year’s resolutions fall by the wayside by February. When shame is our main reason to change, it doesn’t motivate – it paralyses. We set radical goals, telling ourselves that only by meeting them will we have value. And when we inevitably fail to reach this impossibly high bar, shame becomes even more corrosive. It’s that self-defeating feedback loop that says, ‘‘You ate one slice of cake, you loser. You might as well eat the whole cake.’’
For me, the pressure of ‘‘New Year, New You’’ was a lens through which every backwards step was magnified, obscuring all my wins from view. This year, I made no resolutions because I’ve come to realise I am not a problem that needs to be fixed. I’m flawed and there are things I could improve but I’m not broken. I’m a survivor.
I could view the extra kilos as evidence of my shortcomings. Or I could remember that when I was at my ‘‘ideal weight’’, I was struggling with a mental health crisis that nearly killed me. My curves tell me that food is something I can enjoy again. They’re a reminder that I have come back to life. And what I know through hard-earned experience is that if I really want to exact the kind of soulsearching change that lifts me up, I have to be kind to myself.
Amid all the selfimprovement clamour, it’s worth remembering that progress is a measure of increments over a lifetime, not
When shame is our main reason to change, it doesn’t motivate – it paralyses.
an overnight transformation. You don’t have to be reborn like a phoenix rising from the ashes. You don’t have to suddenly have everything worked out or never make a mistake again.
This week, I wrote down the values by which I strive to live my life – kindness, compassion, honesty, integrity and an openhearted willingness to listen and learn. This is what I will measure myself against at the end of the year – not a number on the scales or the balance of my bank account.
I also wrote a list of the books I’d like to read, the places I’m keen to visit, work goals that would be nice to reach. It’s aspirational. I will not berate myself if items go unchecked. It’s a list to inspire not punish.
And finally, I wrote a list of all the things that I’d achieved in 2018 – every small triumph. Reading it back, that ‘‘New Year, New You’’ slogan no longer held power. The old me is fine just as she is. – Sydney Morning Herald