New Year, Same You?

I'm a sucker for the New Year, New You messaging that appears every January. I want to believe that this will be the year I'll make healthier food choices, get back into an exercise routine, start meditating consistently, quit doomscrolling. I imagine you have a similar list.

Like most people, I have a pretty clear idea of what doesn't work for me, and what would work better. So in an annual triumph of hope over experience, I optimistically set a new goal, author yet another plan, and implement a new, improved system to make my new habits stick.

It's such a set up for disappointment. It's hardly news that most new year's resolutions fail (88% within the first two weeks, according to Baylor College of Medicine). Temporary improvements revert back to the previous status quo at a similar rate.

This year, I'm trying something different. I'm no longer going to treat my existing habits as problems, mistakes, or poor choices which must be corrected.

There's a maxim in therapy that clients don't show you their problems, they show you their solutions. In my case, sugar calms me when my nervous system is overloaded. When I stay on my couch rather than going to the gym, it's a solution to my tendency to overwork, allowing me time to rest and recover. I doom-scroll in search of stimulation for my dopamine-starved ADHD brain.

I'm not defending these behaviors, or claiming they're better than eating healthy food, exercising, or meditating. But I'm no longer willing to make myself wrong for deploying my tried-and-true solutions, because I'm tired of going to war with myself. I'm setting aside the weapons of self-criticism and self-control to subdue my so-called negative patterns.

In their place, I'm choosing to re-interpret my old impulses as signals. When I head to the fridge, it's a signal that I need comfort. When I scroll mindlessly, I need stimulation. When I binge Netflix, I need rest.

My existing solutions will remain available to me forever. I can't imagine a future in which I don't crave sugar when I'm upset. A therapeutic cookie will continue to be the right solution for me in certain moments. Sometimes I'll pause myself as I reach into the cookie jar, recognize my real need, and attend to it in other ways. But I will honor both as solutions, unconditionally.   

Those of you who know Inner Team Dialogue will recognize one of its core premises in this approach: the parts which produce your most deeply ingrained behaviors, reactions and habits are lifelong companions. They'll always be with you. Each is a one trick pony, with only a single strategy to solve a problem. Pushers push. Pleasers please. Critics criticize. They cannot be otherwise.

What if, instead of working to get rid of my sugar-loving, numbness-seeking part, I fully accepted it as a permanent member of my Inner Team, a lifelong protective ally?

What if I could meet my impulse to numb out less like encountering an enemy to be overcome, and more like greeting an old friend, doing what it knows how to do to keep me safe?

This year, I'm choosing a non-violent path to growth.