Why New Year’s Resolutions Are Rubbish
After countless failed attempts at the whole new year, new me thing, I’ve finally decided that New Year’s resolutions are rubbish.
This year, I’ve resolved not to make any at all — irony fully acknowledged.
It’s not that I lack motivation or willpower. January simply doesn’t fill me with drastic-change energy. In fact, January has never filled me with much energy at all.
In the past, I’ve felt disappointed in myself for failing. Now I believe it was never the right time to begin with, and that isn’t my fault. It’s nature by design.
If we look at the cycles of the year, they mirror the rhythm of a single day.
Winter is the night.
Spring is the morning.
Summer is the afternoon.
Autumn is the evening.
Winter Is for Rest, Not Reinvention
When you think of it this way, New Year’s resolutions start to seem bonkers.
Who gets up in the middle of the night, joins a gym, and starts a strict new diet? Not many people, I’d imagine. We wait until morning — until we’ve rested, until the light returns, until our energy naturally rises.
Right now, we’re still in our time of rest — slippers and dressing gowns all the way.
Nature knows this instinctively. The garden is sleeping. Trees are in slumber. The days are shorter, the air is colder, and everything has drawn inward. Energy is low because it needs to be for survival — and that isn’t a failure, it’s a season just doing its thing.
I, for one, am not going to fight the natural rhythms of life. One thing menopause has taught me is to listen to my body, or it will force me to listen. So I’m metaphorically putting my pyjamas back on and getting back into bed — and I’ll think about fresh starts when the light returns. When I’ve had a cup of tea. And if I feel like it.
If new year’s resolutions are rubbish, what works instead?
So what am I going to do instead of joining a gym and throwing out all the ultra-processed food in the house?
I’m slowing down and allowing myself to properly rest after the Christmas festivities. I’m thinking about the year ahead in a gentler, more positive way — and I’m indulging in a bit of hygge.
If you’ve no idea what that is:
Hygge /ˈh(j)uːɡə, ˈhʊɡə/
noun
A quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or wellbeing (and is regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).
Choosing Hygge Instead of Hustle
This concept slots perfectly into January, and as a natural-born introvert it feels very much up my street. Candles light the room and my oil burner fills the air with the scent of oranges, cinnamon and fennel. A bunch of red roses and trailing ivy sits on my desk, looking slightly enchanted in the candlelight. There are soft, creamy blankets and cushions to snuggle into, and a growing pile of new books waiting to be read.
Don’t get me wrong — this isn’t total hibernation. The dogs would never allow that, and I’m not really an indoorsy sort of person anyway. The Christmas period has been wonderful for getting out walking. Wrapped up against the cold, we’ve ventured into woodlands and along coast paths, feeling thoroughly invigorated and quietly pleased to be walking off all the mince pies.
Finding Hope in the Winter Garden
Cold mornings see me checking on the inhabitants of the greenhouse; my salvias and succulents seem to be doing fine so far. Outside the kitchen window there are still snapdragons and nasturtiums — with a few brave little flowers clinging on. There are even seedlings popping up in the flower beds: cerinthe and poached egg plants, seemingly confused by the seasons. I wish I could scoop them all up and bring them inside to wait safely for the return of warmth.
It’s fascinating to see how many of last year’s blooms have scattered their offspring, quietly carrying on their legacy. I hope they survive and get their chance to flower in the sun.
Perhaps not all New Year’s resolutions are rubbish
Okay, maybe not all New Year’s resolutions are rubbish. Resolving to plan for pollinators and other creatures feels like a good one to me. It’s something I can genuinely get on board with, and it fills me with a sense of purpose and joy this January.
Winter isn’t a hugely popular time for pollinators, but down here in Cornwall there have been sightings of the odd bumblebee recently. I even spotted a butterfly in the woods a few days ago and felt a pang of worry about it finding food. That’s sent me off investigating what I can plant in my own patch to provide nectar during the colder months.
The answer, it turns out, is winter aconites, snowdrops — the simple varieties that are better for bees — and some single-flowered hellebores, which will soon be finding a home here. A few crocuses too, I think. The RHS says that bees of all kinds love crocuses and will sometimes shelter in them overnight. Fabulous — I do love an excuse for a trip to the garden center.
I have a 2026 plant wish list about eight miles long, and narrowing down my flower fancies to a realistic amount has become the perfect pastime for long winter nights. Slow, hopeful planning. Dreams of sunlight and warmth.
Rest, Readiness and the Year Ahead
This is the first year I can remember when the months ahead haven’t filled me with a sense of dread. In fact, I actually feel positive about winter! I wonder if this permission to rest is what I’ve always needed — and never gifted myself.
Mark, on the other hand, is all about action this January. He’s prowling around, looking for projects to start, and is currently very enthusiastic about replacing the garden fence — which the rosebush has pulled down. In fact, he’s announced that this is the year of “getting shit done.” Exciting stuff.
Between us, with my plans and his action, I’m hopeful for a successful year. Here’s to the tiny ones who live in the garden. To wildlife and wonder.
Some further information about my wildlife gardening project
https://www.rhs.org.uk/garden-inspiration/seasonal/bee-friendly-winter-plants