A survival guide for people who’ve already broken three promises to themselves this year
Every January, we participate in the same annual ritual: we lie to ourselves with confidence.
We call these lies resolutions. They sound noble. Structured. Responsible. They arrive dressed like authority figures—stern, clipboard-holding adults who believe discipline alone can fix complex human behavior. They tell us this is the year we will wake up earlier, eat better, spend less, exercise more, answer emails faster, and finally become the kind of person who owns matching containers.
And then, somewhere around January 17th—statistically known as Quitter’s Day—we quietly abandon the entire performance. The gym membership becomes a donation. The planner becomes a coaster. The resolution becomes a memory we’d rather not discuss.
The problem isn’t you.
The problem is the resolution.
Resolutions Are Built Like Corporate Mission Statements
Resolutions assume humans operate like malfunctioning machines that just need better rules.
“From now on, I will…”
“Every day, I must…”
“This year, I will never again…”
That language is not aspirational—it’s punitive. It presumes that the main thing standing between you and your best life is insufficient self-control, not exhaustion, context, uncertainty, fear, or the fact that you are a living organism and not a spreadsheet.
Resolutions are obsessed with outcomes. They fixate on end results while ignoring the messy, nonlinear process of actually being alive. They are allergic to ambiguity. They demand certainty from creatures who thrive on improvisation.
And when you inevitably fail to meet them, they don’t adjust. They judge.
Creative intentions, on the other hand, don’t yell at you. They invite you in.
What Creative Intentions Actually Are (And Why They Work)
A creative intention is not a goal wearing a softer sweater. It’s a fundamentally different approach to change.
Resolutions say:
“I will write a book this year.”
Creative intentions say:
“I will create space for writing and follow my curiosity wherever it leads.”
Resolutions are rigid. Creative intentions are directional.
They don’t dictate outcomes; they establish orientation. They answer the question:
How do I want to show up in my life?
Instead of forcing behavior, they cultivate conditions.
Instead of demanding consistency, they encourage responsiveness.
Instead of punishing deviation, they expect it.
And most importantly, creative intentions recognize something resolutions never do:
progress is rarely linear, and growth almost never looks like discipline porn.
Why Resolutions Fail the Moment Life Happens
Resolutions depend on a fantasy version of you—the one who sleeps perfectly, never gets sick, isn’t affected by world events, doesn’t experience grief, doesn’t get distracted, and definitely doesn’t spiral at 2 a.m. over something that happened in 2014.
Real life immediately ruins that fantasy.
Creative intentions are designed for real life. They don’t collapse when things get messy; they adapt. They are resilient precisely because they don’t pretend chaos is optional.
When you miss a day, a week, or a month, an intention doesn’t accuse you of failure. It simply waits.
And when you return, it doesn’t say “you’re behind.”
It says, “welcome back.”
The Tyranny of Self-Improvement Culture
Resolutions thrive in a culture that treats rest like a moral weakness and productivity like a personality trait.
We’ve absorbed the idea that if we’re not optimizing, we’re wasting time. That if we’re not improving, we’re declining. That our value must be justified through output.
Creative intentions quietly rebel against that logic.
They allow for seasons. They accept that some months are for expansion and others are for survival. They recognize that creativity doesn’t operate on quarterly targets.
You don’t “crush” a creative intention. You live with it.
Creative Intentions Don’t Care If You’re Impressive
Resolutions want witnesses. They want apps, trackers, streaks, before-and-after photos, and at least one humblebrag.
Creative intentions don’t need applause.
They’re internal agreements. Private compasses. Subtle recalibrations.
They don’t require you to announce anything on social media or declare a new identity. They don’t need a rebrand. They just ask you to pay attention.
And ironically, that’s why they tend to lead to deeper, more lasting change.
Examples of Creative Intentions That Actually Respect Your Humanity
Instead of:
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“I will exercise six days a week”
Try:
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“I will move my body in ways that feel supportive, not punitive”
Instead of:
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“I will stop procrastinating”
Try:
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“I will get curious about why I avoid certain tasks and respond with compassion”
Instead of:
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“I will be more productive”
Try:
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“I will protect my energy and work with my natural rhythms”
Instead of:
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“I will finally get my life together”
Try:
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“I will create systems that make my life feel less heavy”
Notice the difference?
One set is obsessed with control.
The other is focused on relationship.
Intentions Are About Identity, Not Performance
Resolutions treat behavior as the starting point. Creative intentions start with identity.
They ask:
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Who do I want to be while I’m doing this?
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What values do I want guiding my choices?
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How do I want my days to feel, not just look?
When you shift identity first, behavior follows naturally. When you force behavior without addressing identity, you’re just negotiating with your nervous system—and it usually wins.
Creative Intentions Play the Long Game
Resolutions assume change happens on a calendar.
Creative intentions understand that change happens in cycles, setbacks, pauses, and unexpected breakthroughs.
They don’t expire on December 31st. They don’t require yearly renewal. They evolve as you do.
You can carry an intention for months, years, or decades. It can grow quieter or louder. It can shift focus. It can rest.
It doesn’t panic about time. It trusts it.
Why Creativity Belongs in Every Area of Life (Not Just Art)
Calling them creative intentions doesn’t mean you need to paint, write poetry, or learn pottery.
Creativity is not a hobby—it’s a way of engaging with uncertainty.
You need creativity to:
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Navigate career changes
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Redefine relationships
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Heal from burnout
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Adapt to loss
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Build a life that actually fits you
Resolutions assume the path is known.
Creative intentions assume discovery.
The Subtle Confidence of Intentional Living
There’s a quiet confidence that comes from intentions.
You stop constantly asking:
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“Am I doing enough?”
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“Am I behind?”
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“Should I be further along by now?”
And start asking:
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“Does this align with what I care about?”
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“Does this support the person I’m becoming?”
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“Is this sustainable for the life I actually have?”
That shift alone is transformative.
Letting Go of the Finish Line
Resolutions are obsessed with completion.
Creative intentions understand that many of the most meaningful things in life are ongoing practices, not boxes to check.
You don’t finish:
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Being curious
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Being kind to yourself
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Paying attention
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Creating meaning
You participate in them.
The Relief of Not Needing a Perfect Streak
One of the most damaging ideas baked into resolution culture is the obsession with streaks.
Miss one day, and suddenly the whole thing feels ruined.
Creative intentions don’t believe in streaks. They believe in return.
They normalize starting again. They expect interruption. They treat recommitment as a strength, not a failure.
How to Set a Creative Intention (Without Overthinking It)
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Notice what’s been nagging you
Not what sounds impressive—what feels unfinished, heavy, or quietly persistent. -
Name the quality you want more of
Ease, curiosity, steadiness, courage, patience, play. -
Phrase it as an orientation, not a demand
“I intend to…” not “I must…” -
Let it be vague on purpose
Precision comes later. Direction comes first. -
Check how it feels in your body
If it tightens you up, it’s probably a disguised resolution.
What Happens When You Stop Making Resolutions
You stop treating yourself like a project that’s always behind schedule.
You stop measuring your worth in compliance.
You stop confusing discipline with self-respect.
And slowly—almost imperceptibly—you start building a life that feels more honest.
Not perfect.
Not optimized.
But yours.
A Final Thought for the Chronically Self-Improving
You don’t need a new year to justify change.
You don’t need a dramatic declaration to begin again.
And you don’t need to threaten yourself into becoming someone worthy.
Creative intentions don’t promise transformation by February.
They offer something far better:
A way to move forward without abandoning yourself along the way.
And honestly, that might be the most radical intention of all.