New Year, Old Me

Another year has passed, another one begins. In these first few weeks, it's almost scary to log into any social media portal, read newsletters, or simply head to the pool or the gym. A wave of New Year's resolutions will sweep across the internet, and on this wave, many people will decide to do something anew – build a new habit, start new activities, plan something different.

I used to try to catch this wave myself. I made plans. I dreamed of being part of this movement. This year, I want only one thing – to escape the pressure of creating New Year's goals. And I mean truly escape, not just contest New Year's resolutions in a text only to quietly try to carve out a list of my own goals for this year.

Evolution in the perception of New Year's resolutions

Looking through previous blog posts, I saw how many different ways I’ve already tried to tackle the topic of resolutions. Once, I planned to create a challenge according to the scheme: 365 – 52 – 12 – 4. For 365 days, I wanted to perform a small habit, e.g., keep a gratitude journal; read 52 books; watch 12 classic films (like "The Seventh Seal" and the like); and learn to bake 4 new cakes (one per quarter). The plan usually ended in failure as early as January. It was only recent years and the discovery of my neurodiversity that allowed me to understand why. Before that happened, however, I experienced the pressure of creating New Year's goals and the disappointment of not achieving them more than once.

When I concluded that such an approach didn't make much sense, a few years ago I started writing about New Year's goals differently:

A new year has begun and, in the opinion of many, it would be appropriate to start it with New Year's resolutions in store. When I hear about it, I feel myself cringing inside. This cringing is a mixture of anger, some kind of regret, reluctance, maybe a bit of defiance. And a desire to somehow shed the necessity of doing something that I don't associate with anything good. (Source: New Year's Resolutions)

At that time, I was discovering how often I pursue goals imposed by others: family, friends, trends, circumstances. Back then, I thought I just wanted to fit in, that I couldn't set boundaries. Today, I see that I also lacked a vision for myself, which meant that instead of pursuing my own goals, I pursued the goals that life brought me. I reacted to events instead of proactively influencing them.

And what were the results? Exactly these:

The last days of December usually pass in an atmosphere of certain anxiety. I feel drawn to sit down and plan something. To come up with something I could do for myself in the new year. Traditionally, I excuse myself with Christmas exhaustion and wake up on the first of January with no idea what to do next. So, I construct something hastily and then experience disappointment related to not achieving those goals. (Source: New Year's Resolutions)

Later, in an unfinished post from a year ago, I wrote with bitterness:

There is no "New Year, New Me," although there is some planning to tame the chaos at least a little. I fill out the calendar, plan activities for the next quarter, and just hope that I’ll somehow survive the first weeks of the year.

After all, this is the "ideal" time to introduce changes, so... all the places where "non-holiday" change-seekers signed up in the old year, without fireworks, wanting change in life for the sake of change, will now be filled with people waiting for a special date to change something in their lives. Which, for some people, statistically has the right to end in success.

Going to the pool regularly, I found it hard to endure the short-lived, yet real, siege of the swimming facility in the post-New Year period. I couldn't find alternative justifications at that moment; the crowd itself took a toll on me and made me feel bad at the pool for a while. This, in turn, influenced my even more negative perception of the turn of the year.

Now, wiser from previous experiences, I intend to plan the first month or two – depending on when I want to start a quarter of planned activities, without the New Year's pressure.

Different paths to the goal

Years ago, in a psychology of willpower class, the instructor presented research according to which, if I remember correctly, roughly 30% of people (varying by study and type of resolution) will be able to stick to their goals and introduce the desired changes. That’s quite little, and yet quite a lot. Regardless of how this percentage looks in newer studies – those who succeed will be happy they did, and the rest have a chance to gain invaluable experience to – if they reflect on their actions – build the foundations for a less flashy but more effective change in the future. And a fraction – like me – taught by experience, will no longer try something that doesn't work.

Of course, on the sidelines of these reflections remain those who make no New Year's resolutions at all. Is that good or bad? It depends on the context. An organized person won't need resolutions. A person of action is already acting anyway. A person tired of life has other things on their mind than New Year's resolutions.

For a long time, I thought the basis of such planning was a well-defined goal that could be formulated using, for example, the SMART model. I thought motivation could be ensured either by persistent daily action and building consistency, or by deeply reflecting on what I need in life, where I want to go, and what will bring me closer to the goal. Then I started planning based on whether I have the energy for something (instead of considering if I have the time), which worked for me in setting short-term goals but still didn't help in planning the whole year ahead.

Then I realized that even if my goal is to change something over the course of a year – finish a course, a bootcamp, learn Java, and heaven knows what else – I don't have to limit myself to this or that unit of time. I don't have to plan goals for a year. I can adapt my planning to how I function as a neurodivergent person, taking into account certain adversities resulting from that neurodivergence.

Understanding that I can do things differently – and that it's okay – was key for me to discover something even more important than all plans and resolutions combined.

Planning what isn't planned

From every side, I hear about planning goals at work, about self-development, about exercises (physical, breathing, psychological), about hundreds of other good goals. However, to plan such goals, something fundamental is needed: resources to implement them.

When I started building new habits related to digital hygiene, I noticed it was difficult for me to limit the number of times I checked social media during the day. Yes, the time had shortened significantly, but I still checked instinctively, sometimes more often, sometimes less, and sometimes even every five minutes. For a long time, I blamed this on my lack of consistency. I was ready to metaphorically "tighten the screw" just to get rid of this habit.

Sobering thoughts came when, just before Christmas, I was barely able to complete a coding task as part of a bootcamp. It wasn't anything complicated, but my body refused to appear in the chair at the desk, and my head was racing, unable to focus on what dishes I should make for the Christmas Eve gathering, let alone closing out work before the holidays.

In building new habits, I took care of the entire intellectual framework – I knew what I was doing, why I was doing it, and what I wanted to achieve. My head was ready for the challenge. However, my tired body demanded attention and found two ways to get it. First – by catching every virus available in my environment and trying to put me to bed. And second – by giving me a signal that something was blocked in another part of this complicated machinery and that working with thoughts wasn't enough – namely, by not allowing me to get rid of the annoying habit of checking socials. The habit weakened when I was more rested and intensified when fatigue intensified.

I possessed the intellectual resources, but I lacked resources at the physical level. Although I started getting enough sleep, apparently other resources that help with regeneration and better realization of goals set by the head were missing.

And so I stood on the threshold of 2026 knowing that planning goals may be important, but I need to include something that is usually not planned – the restoration of resources necessary for planning.

Charged batteries work better

When a device doesn't work, I usually check if it's plugged in, mindful of the technical interpretation of one of Murphy's Laws – if a device doesn't work, plug it in. The same applies to the resources we have or lack – if they are lacking, we must take care of their renewal. This rule is known in the form of the saying: "a car without gas won't go far," but the latter has its limitations.

Gas can be in the tank or tank can be empty. A battery, even with little energy, can still work – though worse than after being charged to 100%. And even knowing that this energy is getting lower and lower, it’s still hard to predict when it will run out – and the human psyche has a lot of creativity when it comes to saving energy or charging it in a less effective but still level-maintaining way. Not to mention that it is precisely batteries that can surprise us by finding a little more energy after a few hours or a few days, even though they seemed completely discharged.

That’s why it’s sometimes so hard to realize that our mental batteries are on the verge of discharging. After all, sleep, a good movie, and a bath recharge them slightly, much like a calmer day at work. So maybe there’s no reason to worry? In this way, one can function for a long time at a reduced energy level, even getting used to it. The whole system falls apart, however, when life presents us with challenges where such residual battery charge is not enough.

Fundamentally, charged batteries work better. And to charge them, it takes conscious effort, making their charging a goal, and consistency in action. This, in turn, will help – indirectly – to achieve other goals.

The art of resting

My "goal - non-goal" for the near future is therefore to take care of basic things. To worry less and relax more. To take care of the nervous system, its proper regulation – which favors charging physical and mental batteries. Of course, my defiant soul is already poking me in the ribs, saying that I’d still like to publish 52 blog posts this year... And yes, I am ready to jump into battle again.

The art, then, will be both relaxation and taking care of a neuroatypical mind that will gladly race forward at breakneck speed – so as not to get bored with the subject too quickly. The art will be the kind of rest that isn't monetized, isn't shown on social media, isn't bragged about to others – in a word, ordinary, maybe sometimes boring, rest. Without pressure, without expectations, without setting "rest goals." Focused on the process, not the goal, though helping to strive toward certain goals.