“New Year’s resolutions are the January equivalent of a half-price gym membership—optimistic, overhyped, and destined to quietly expire by mid-February.”
Ah, New Year’s resolutions. The annual tradition where we collectively trick ourselves into believing we’re only one heroic declaration away from becoming flawless human beings. This year, this will be the year we shed those bad habits like a moulting snake. Right? Wrong!
Some of us love a bit of renewal. The time of year draws a marker in the sand. The arbitrary flipping from one year means a brand new you! Look I don’t want to be a pessimist as some of you are going to be jumping in feet first. I think being a realist is better. But being a realist doesn’t mean you can start shovelling five bags of Haribo down your gullet on January 3rd.
But come on, let’s be honest: New Year’s resolutions are the January equivalent of a half-price gym membership—optimistic, overhyped, and destined to quietly expire by mid-February. They’re like trying to build a house during a hurricane: bold, impressive even, but utterly delusional when you remember the wind, rain, and life itself are always against you.
The Turbulent Truth About Change
Here’s a story that might make you feel slightly better about your perpetual failure to stick to a resolution. In the late 1960s, psychologist John Grinder studied how pilots learned to fly. Instead of coddling them with smooth, sunny conditions, he hurled chaos at them—simulated turbulence, engine failures, the works. It was less “welcome aboard” and more “brace for impact.” And guess what? They became better pilots.
Turns out, training in perfect conditions doesn’t prepare you for reality. Life, much like flying, is inherently turbulent. Resolutions, on the other hand, are designed as if you’ll glide through the year with zero headwinds. Spoiler alert: there will be headwinds.
Why Resolutions Are Basically Cruelty Wrapped in Hope
Think about it. Resolutions are rigged from the start. They require you to behave as if you’re suddenly a different person—an idealised version of yourself that doesn’t actually exist. Miss one workout? Might as well cancel the gym membership. Skip one meditation session? Clearly, inner peace wasn’t for you.
It’s the same in business. How many teams draft ambitious annual strategies, only to watch them unravel by Q2? Because here’s the dirty little secret: change doesn’t happen because you declare it. Change happens because you adapt. And adapt. And adapt again.
How The IDEA Model Can Help You Navigate the Chaos
Let me introduce a better way to approach this mess: the IDEA Model. Yes, it sounds a bit self-help-y, but bear with me—it’s not trying to sell you a mindfulness app. It’s a method for navigating chaos with a bit more… sanity. It’s a model I worked up to help me think about communication, but it can be applied to other things. Here, let’s plug in resolutions.
Inform: Start by admitting you don’t have it all figured out. That’s half the battle. Want to be healthier? Admit that you’ll never enjoy kale and find a better route.
Develop: Focus on small, manageable changes. Instead of “run a marathon,” start with “walk around the block without wheezing.”
Enable: Set up systems to help you succeed—like scheduling workouts you can actually do or creating a visual roadmap for your next big project.
Animate: Bring it to life by sharing your progress with someone. Nothing motivates like a bit of public accountability—or mild humiliation.
Embrace the Burnt Pancake
I’m not sure about this as a title but hopefully, you’ll get the idea. You know the first pancake? The one that’s always burnt, and uneven? That’s your life right now. But here’s the thing: that pancake isn’t failure; it’s the necessary precursor to the good stuff. No one perfects the art of pancake flipping on their first attempt. The trick is to scrape off the burnt bits and try again.
Your burnt pancake might be an awkward first draft of a presentation, a clumsy attempt at journaling, or your fledgling efforts to meditate while not secretly checking your phone. Whatever it is, let it be ugly. Let it be burnt. Just don’t give up.
So, What Now?
This year, ditch the resolutions. They’re the glitter of self-improvement—flashy, fun for about five minutes, and completely useless after the party. Instead, try a habit experiment. Pick one tiny, almost embarrassingly small thing to change. Then adjust, adapt, and keep flipping those metaphorical pancakes.
And if you’re feeling ambitious, take our Presentation Pulse Scorecard Quiz. It’s like holding up a mirror to your communication skills—except this mirror is far less judgmental and way more helpful.
The year ahead will be messy, full of turbulence, and, let’s face it, occasionally terrible. But that’s fine. Because in the mess, the turbulence, and yes, even the burnt pancakes, that’s where the good stuff happens.
Ah, New Year’s resolutions. The annual tradition where we collectively trick ourselves into believing we’re only one heroic declaration away from becoming flawless human beings. This year, this will be the year we shed those bad habits like a moulting snake. Right? Wrong!