Well, I've failed several of my New Year's resolutions already

Thank goodness for my safety net of self-compassion catching me, in my otherwise 'may as well write-off the whole year then' free-fall!

How has 2025 started for you?

Is it a Happy New Year? Or a less than happy New Year?

Or did it just flick from Tuesday to Wednesday this week, for you, without you thinking too much about it being a ‘New Year’ at all?

Despite the only message we hear at this time of year being ‘Happy New Year’, it is in fact the case that every and ALL experiences of the New Year are valid. I am certainly wishing you the acknowledgement and validation you need at this time of year, however it looks and feel for you.

I wrote recently about making some New Year’s resolutions, from a grounding of self-compassion. Among the resolutions I was making for myself, was a recommitment to: Doing something that incorporated movement & alone-time each day (like for example, going for a walk every day); Going to bed earlier, with as little screen use as possible after 8pm; & Trying to remain as regulated as possible when parenting my son - more pausing to breathe, less lightening-fast rage reactions, when we are both melting down.

I had, by January 2nd, failed on all three of these counts.

Let me set the scene:

On January the 1st, I woke up with a ‘fresh start energy’, and I went with it - I started ‘spring cleaning’ around the house, sorting out a few things that had been left undone for months, changing all the bed sheets, opening up all the windows to let the fresh new year air in, putting loads of washing on, watering all the house-plants that I had neglected for weeks over Christmas, and I pottered around doing many more things than this for hours (I know it was hours, because all of my odd-jobs took me so long that I ended up ‘not having time’ to go for a walk in the morning on my own) although now I can’t even remember what most of those odd-jobs even were.

So yep, by midday on 1st January, I had failed to follow through on my New Year’s resolution to make sure I do some solo movement in the mornings.

‘Hey ho’, I thought, ‘it’s only one missed walk, on one day - we can all go out together this afternoon’. And we did. So not a total loss on the movement stakes.

Except this wasn’t a solo walk - it was walk with my partner and our four year old, and a slow walk is far more calming for my nervous system than a family walk.

I didn’t get to switch off the whole time, and instead I remained constantly in ‘mum mode’ - watching and cautioning and playing and chasing.

And it was also a walk at a four year old’s pace - either racing ahead and out of sight (causing worry), going so slowly he’s nearly at a standstill, or indeed going backwards. All totally normal behaviour for a four year old, and I celebrate all of that - for him.

But for me, I needed something different, and I had missed my opportunity for what I needed earlier that day, when I filled the time with jobs around the house.

Still, I made the most of the walk, for what it was - a really lovely, nourishing family trip outside. This, to be fair, is also very much a need of mine, but I have found I enjoy such trips even more when I am doing it in addition to having had my own alone time in the early hours of the day.

Fast forward now to the end of the day … It is 8pm, and our son is finally asleep. According to my resolutions, I should go straight to bed, to read a book in room with minimal blue light. But do I do this… ?

You guessed it - I do not.

I come downstairs, I climb onto the sofa and I begin to scroll. I catch up on replying to a few comments on my Instagram, and then I check the other socials apps ‘quickly’ (it never really is as ‘quickly’ as we think is it? These devices are such a time suck for me - do you find this too??), and I reply to a few WhatsApps.

Then I remember one of my other resolutions is to begin to cook with pots and pans that are non-toxic - this is apparently a whole thing for perimenopause detoxing, and hormonal system support, but I had felt it was a step too far for 2024 when I was already making so many lifestyle changes, so I had kicked that can right into 2025 - so it was now suddenly felt like time to start this new non-toxic cooking project!

I check some Facebook groups for advice about whether cast iron or stainless steel are the best way to go. I also explore these Facebook groups for clues as to whether certain brands which advertise themselves as ‘non-toxic’ truly are, or whether they just have savvy marketing teams working for them (sadly, my research suggests it’s mostly the latter). Finally I check some options & prices on Amazon.

Suddenly I feel tired and I look up - it’s 10pm. It’s officially my bedtime. I feel frustrated that I’ve done more than one hour’s research into this and I’m still not sure which option is best, and I’ve added some anxiety about whether I will even be able to cook well enough on a surface without a non-stick coating, if I can even afford these ridiculously priced healthier options.

I go up to bed feeling this irritation, and no doubt (on a more subconscious, nervous system level) also feeling the effects of over-stimulation on my brain - of manically switching between online shopping, online reviews and social media pages, not to mention feeling overstimulated from the blue-light that has been coursing through my eye-balls, long after the sun has gone down (and therefore wreaking havoc on my circadian rhythm).

I am tired. But now I am also wired. It takes me ages to get to sleep. And I toss and turn A LOT that night. And now I am annoyed at myself for this, because I know better - I know that my behaviour in the hours leading up to bedtime always affects my sleep - I know how to support myself to sleep better, and I have simply not done the things I know help me.

Fast forward again … this time to the afternoon of 2nd January. My son is in the midst of an epic melt down, that has come up seemingly out of nowhere - We’ve actually had a fairly lovely morning until this moment.

There is absolutely an adult part of my brain that knows he is dysregulated, that things have suddenly become too much for him, and that he needs me to stay calm, regulated and empathic. Unfortunately, in that moment, it all feels too much for me too.

I start melting down too. I yell, I walk away from him, and I feel rage. I do not remember to breathe until a good few minutes later. Luckily, my partner has just come home from an enjoyable morning out, right at that moment, and he can take over - offering the regulation and soothing to our son that I could not.

So now, by just after midday on the 2nd January, I have failed in all counts of these these three resolutions: Have alone time movement every day; go screen free after 8pm; and remain calm with my son.

I am not feeling great about myself.

Then I remember - thank goodness - when all else fails, there is always self-compassion.

The model I use for my self-compassion practice is from Kristen Neff, and includes three complements - mindfulness, common humanity, and self-kindness.

I start with mindfulness - noticing that I am not feeling great about myself. Noticing my rage, and my shame, and my overwhelm, my tiredness and my wiredness. Now that I can see it clearly, I can also clearly see that I am person in need of some compassion - I would absolutely think so of anyone else going though all of these feelings all at once, and why should I be any different?

This brings us to the second component of self-compassion as described by Neff - common humanity. I remember that I am not alone in feeling rage in the context of parenting. I remember that in fact ALL humans find everything harder went they have not slept well - I remember that as well as a poor night’s sleep the night before, I didn’t sleep well for a week before that, due to all of us having a cold that came with a side of all-night coughing for our son. I remember that this tiredness is cumulative, and not just about last night. I remember that I’m also perimenopausal and that it is very common for women of my age to experience poor sleep, and to be more sensitive to overwhelm, and to feel rage in at this time of our lives.

Remembering I am not alone, is SUCH a compassionate act for myself, and I often find that this the most powerful of the practices of self-compassion. I feel a bit better already.

Still, I move onto self-kindness. I talk to myself in a way that feels compassionate and kind, and that has a longer-term view of myself - a view that can see far beyond how I have behaved in this one moment of a meltdown. I talk to myself, just in my mind, how I might talk to a friend who described a similar situation to me, that they had experienced: “of course you’ve not got the bandwidth right now, that’s ok, that’s normal, that’s human”; “it makes so much sense that you’ve reacted like this - you are tired, and you are coming out the Christmas period, where you have orchestrated the vast majority the magic that has occurred in your home in the last month, all while keeping the daily chores ticking over, and growing you business, and managing perimenopause”; '“you absolutely don’t melt down every time with your son, he has far more regulated responses from you than dysregulated ones over all!”.

By this time I’m no longer feeling shame, and actually more feeling like I deserve a fricken medal.

But I don’t entirely let myself off the hook - I hold myself accountable with compassion: “Your feelings are perfectly understandable, but it’s truly not ideal that you yelled at him - it’s okay though, we can apologise for that behaviour - you’re a good parent who behaved in a less-than-ideal way today”.

In truth, it will take me about 4 hours before I have been consistently calm enough to apologise with any sincerity. I very deliberately do not go to early with these sorts of apologies to my son, because I believe that an apology followed immediately by another meltdown or more yelling (because I’m actually still in a dysregulation zone myself) feels pretty hollow to me. No - I always very deliberately wait to say sorry to my son - until I can feel in my bones that I am truly in a more regulated space, and have been for a little while, so that I can trust that I’m well in my ‘regulation zone’, and well clear from the edges of where this might tip into ‘dysregulation’.

Then my mind turns to my ‘failure’ of executing my resolutions. I again consciously choose a self-compassionate route. I acknowledge, with mindfulness, that I am feeling a sense of failure, and that I am feeling shame about this situation - not least because I’m a psychologist who helps people better align their behaviour with their intentions for a living, and I’m not exactly mastering it myself.

Then I zoom out (another self-care technique from a related practice called ‘shame resilience’, from Brené Brown): I deliberately try to see a wider perspective than the automatic narrow view of ‘self-blame’ - I acknowledge that it’s not my fault that it’s so hard to find non-toxic cooking utensils in this capitalist world that I have to scroll on my phone for hours, in the evening no less - because I prioritise not being on my phone while my son it awake and wants to play.

I acknowledge that, rather than this being all being ‘my fault’, this world actually makes it really hard for all of us to ‘do all the right things all the time’, because (a) so many dehumanising systems (like capitalism) are stacked against us, and (b) the ‘right things’ are often in conflict with each other (e.g. find non-toxic options, and don’t look at your screen after 8pm, but also try not to be on your phone with your child present).

I also remember that I’m not alone in finding it hard to actually put into regular practice the New years’ resolutions that we so easily make in our minds at the turn of the calendar. I also remind myself of my own advice, from the last Substack I wrote - Resolutions don’t have to start on the 1st January, and they don’t have to be consistent every day of the year - in fact they probably shouldn’t be either of things, to be meaningfully sustained throughout the year.

With this foundation of shame-resilience and self-compassion, now I can consciously construct a different thought, instead of getting stuck on the automatic thought of ‘well, I’ve failed so spectacularly already, I may as well just give up’.

My new, intentional thought is: ‘Okay, so not a great start, I’ll grant you that, but there are lots of reasons why this start as been hard, and a lot of those reasons are outside of your control Jenny - what you can control is whether you want to try again, starting from now’.

So that night, last night, I did choose to try again.

I chose not to scroll on my phone at all after my son’s bedtime. I tidied the kitchen and then read a book, until 8pm while my partner put our son to bed. I then watched TV with him until 9pm, and then I went upstairs, got ready for bed and I read a book in bed, with no blue-lights turned on, until 10pm.

And I do sleep better - not great though, mind you, which is actually good, because it reminds me that my sleep is not entirely in my control, especially in this perimenopausal time of my life, so I shouldn’t ever come down too hard on myself when I struggle with it. With that reminder, I add another string to my shame-resilience and self-compassion bows.

This morning, I say - “I need some alone time this morning, I’m going for a long walk and I’m staying out to eat breakfast on my own, I’ll be back in two hours” - my partner says ‘okay’.

And just like that I’m out the door and back on track with two out of the three resolutions. Time will tell if I can achieve more regulated responses to my son over the year … but I believe wholeheartedly that remaining on track with these first two can only help with that one!

I am beyond grateful every day for my self-compassion practice - Ever since I started to consciously practice it, a few years ago, it truly is like a safety net that quite literally catches me and saves me from my shame-filled, failure-feeling free-falls. And we are perhaps never more prone to such free-falls as when we are deep in the over-lapping context of juggling parenting, perimenopause and pressure of New Year’s resolutions.

With self-compassion as my safety net, I have never actually failed. No, instead - I have always tried, and I have faltered and I have learned. I’ve learned what is important (in this case, the resolutions I set myself), and I have learned what works and what doesn’t work in terms of me remaining committed to what is important. And, I always learn, in these situations that feel like failure, more deeply how to bring compassion to myself - this is a life-long practice - the more practice I get, the better I get at it.

How about you? Are there New Year’s resolutions you feel you’ve ‘failed’ at so far already? I’d love it if you could confirm to me that I’m not alone!

Do you, or can you, bring compassion to yourself too, in this context?

Might a compassionate approach help you get back on track with what is important to you?

As always, I’d love to hear from you.

Jenny x

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Thank you so much for reading!

I am Dr. Jenny Turner, Clinical Psychologist and founder of Mind Body Soul Psychology - a private psychology practice in which I offer face-to-face psychology assessment and intervention to individuals and couples in Ripon, Yorkshire (UK), as well as UK-wide online psychology services, via Zoom.

I am passionate about assisting people to alleviate their suffering, by helping them to better understand, compassionately embrace and honour their human needs & their humanity - as well as the humanity of their children, and anyone else they are in relationship with.

And I wholeheartedly practice what I preach.

You can find out more about the psychology services I offer via my website.