Cheers to another year

By Sheree Hoddinett 

Every new year, on the stroke of midnight, we often perform the same ritual. Fireworks crackle and pop, glasses clink and somewhere between the usual “Happy New Year” chorus and the first regret of the year, we make promises to ourselves that would impress even the most optimistic life coach. 

This year will be different, we say. This year, I will wake up at 5am, drink lemon water, meditate, run 10 kilometres and still arrive at work glowing with inner peace. I will eat clean, spend less, save more, scroll less, read more and finally understand how superannuation works. I will be calm. I will be organised. I will be a new person by the time we get through the first month of the year. It’s funny how a night of relaxing and having fun brings out the “best” in everyone! 

New Year’s resolutions are the adult equivalent of writing a letter to Santa. They are hopeful, ambitious and quietly ignore all available evidence from the past 12 months. Because if discipline were truly contagious, gyms wouldn’t be empty by February and that half-used yoga mat wouldn’t be living permanently under the bed. 

By the time we realise what could have been, reality arrives. It usually turns up in the form of a stinking hot 40-degree day, a work deadline or a packet (possibly three in my case, haha!) of Tim Tams that ‘accidentally’ falls into the trolley. The 6am alarm is silenced with the reflexes of a professional gamer. The run becomes a ‘rest day’, which becomes a ‘busy week’, which becomes a vague intention to walk more sometime when it’s not so bloody hot.  

And yet, we persist. We buy planners, download apps and announce our goals publicly, as if shame is a sustainable motivational tool. We track steps, calories, spending and sleep, until the sheer admin of self-improvement becomes exhausting. At some point, we realise we need a nap to recover from trying to better ourselves. But here’s the thing no one really tells you: there is something far better than trying to stick to New Year’s resolutions. It’s called living. I know, right?! 

Living is making the choice to get up and move your body because it feels good, not because an app told you to do it. It’s cooking a good meal most nights and also eating hot chips at the beach without mentally calculating how long you’ll need to ‘burn them off’. It’s saving money where you can and spending it where it brings genuine joy, even if that joy is a last-minute weekend away or some really good cheese with a delicious wine. 

Living is setting intentions instead of ultimatums. It’s swapping “I will never do this again” for “I’ll try to do this a bit more often”. It’s understanding that progress isn’t ruined by one missed workout, one late night or one dessert (okay maybe more than one) that was absolutely worth it. It’s also knowing when to laugh at yourself. Because nothing bonds humanity quite like the collective experience of abandoned resolutions. We are united by dusty gym memberships, unused journals and water bottles designed to remind us to drink more water, which now serve as emotional support accessories on our desks. 

The irony is that the best changes rarely arrive on January 1. They sneak in quietly, on a random Tuesday in March, when you decide to go for a walk because the weather’s nice, or cook at home because you feel like it or go to bed early because you’re tired. No fireworks. No declarations. Just small, sensible choices that don’t require a countdown clock. 

So this year, by all means, have that resolution. Write it down. Dream big. But also give yourself permission to be human. To change your mind. To start again. Or not start at all. Because better than sticking to New Year’s resolutions is enjoying your life while you’re busy making it. And if that includes a few broken promises, a second slice of chocolate cake and a nap instead of a run, you’re probably doing it exactly right!