It’s the first week of January, and I want to ask you something.
How do your 2026 goals actually feel right now?
Not how they look—I’m sure they look great. Ambitious. Reasonable. The kind of goals a woman like you should have.
But when you really sit with them—when you get quiet and honest about what it feels like to carry them—do they feel like something you’re excited to move toward?
Or do they just feel like another to-do list you have to survive?
Or maybe—and this is the version nobody talks about—you don’t even have goals for yourself. Just an endless list of what everyone else needs from you. The idea of wanting something for yourself might feel almost foreign. Maybe even selfish.
If the honest answer is heavy—if your 2026 plan already feels like a performance review you’re failing before you’ve even started—I want you to know something.
There’s nothing wrong with you.
Something else may be going on. And it’s worth understanding—before you spend another year white-knuckling your way toward goals that may never have been truly yours to begin with.
So here’s what the research tells us.
Only about 6-9% of people who make New Year’s resolutions actually keep them. Nearly a quarter quit by the end of the first week. By the end of January, 43% have walked away.
We treat this like a willpower problem. A discipline failure. Evidence that we just need to try harder.
But here’s what may be happening on a deeper level.
It may not be that you lack discipline. It may be that your goals are coming from a place that was never designed to sustain you—from fear, not desire. From should, not want. From a nervous system that might still be activated from December.
And that can change everything.
But let’s back up for a second. Because this didn’t start in January.
Ram Dass said it decades ago:
“If you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family.”
It still hits—because it names something so many of us recognize.
There’s just something about going home—or not going home, or managing the whole complicated mess of family during the holidays—that has a way of unraveling us. Of poking all our oldest bruises. Of making us feel like we’re twelve again, no matter how many degrees we have or how many people report to us.
I know that might sound dramatic. But the numbers back it up.
Nearly 80% of American adults spend the holidays with family. And according to the American Psychological Association, 41% of us felt more stressed this holiday season than last year—a sharp jump from 28% just twelve months ago. Over a third say challenging family dynamics are a major source of that stress.
So many of us may have just spent December navigating something emotionally complicated. Maybe it was overt conflict—the kind you can point to. Maybe it was the quieter kind. The performance of being fine. The managing of everyone else’s feelings. The familiar exhaustion of slipping back into roles we thought we’d outgrown.
And then January arrived. With all its clean-slate energy. Its cheerful invitations to become someone new.
Do you see the setup here?
I think of it like this: imagine your whole life as a house. Your career, your relationships, your health, your goals—those are the upper floors. The rooms everyone sees. But underneath all of that is your psychological foundation. The nervous system patterns laid down in childhood. The beliefs about your own worth. The old wiring about what you’re allowed to want.
When the foundation is shaky, the upper floors may never feel stable—no matter how impressive they look from the outside. And you can’t renovate the kitchen when the basement is flooded.
That’s what January might be asking so many of us to do: set ambitious goals for the upper floors while the basement is still underwater from December.
And here’s the thing about that flooded basement: we didn’t flood it ourselves.
There’s this line I love from Elizabeth Gilbert: “In AA they always say, ‘How come your family knows how to push your buttons? Because they installed them.’”
I think about this all the time—especially in January.
Because for so many ambitious women—especially those of us who grew up in complicated family systems—our drive may not have come from nowhere. It may have been installed. It may have been a strategy. A way to be seen, to stay safe, to earn belonging in environments where those things weren’t freely given.
For some of us, that strategy may have looked like achievement. Being the impressive one. The one who proved her worth through performance and accolades.
But for others—maybe for you—the strategy may have looked different. It may have looked like service. Like caring. Like becoming the one everyone called when things fell apart. The emotional first responder. The one who held it all together so no one else had to.
So many of us may have grown up learning—whether anyone said it out loud or not—that our worth was connected to our usefulness. Our ability to anticipate needs. To keep the peace. To not have too many needs of our own.
And honestly? That wiring may have made us remarkable. It really might have. It may have made us competent and capable and the kind of people others can rely on—whether that’s running a team, a nonprofit, a family, or just being the friend everyone calls in a crisis.
But it also means that when we sit down to set goals, we may not be asking, What do I actually want?
We might be asking, What will finally prove I’m enough? Or worse: What does everyone else need from me this year?
Those are really different questions. They lead to really different years.
The Jungian analyst Marion Woodman, PhD, captured this when she quoted one of her analysands:
“The whole structure of my existence has depended on one premise. I have to please others. I am incapable of thinking in any other way. No matter how hard I work to recognize what my own feelings are… I still fall into delayed reactions.”
Delayed reactions. God, I love that phrase. It’s the woman who realizes three days later that she was actually hurt by something. Who processes her own emotions on a lag because she’s been so busy processing everyone else’s in real time.
If that resonates? You’re not alone.
And when January arrives with its invitations to set goals and make plans, you might feel something unexpected. Not motivation. Not excitement.
Paralysis.
This is what’s sometimes called the freeze response. And it may not look like what you’d expect.
It might look like standing in your kitchen at 7pm, staring into the open refrigerator, the cold air hitting your face while your mind goes blank. Sitting in your car after a meeting, engine still running, scrolling the same three apps because the thought of getting out and walking into your house feels like too much. The way your brain fogs over when someone asks, “What do you want to do this weekend?” and you genuinely can’t find the answer.
That may not be laziness. That might be a nervous system that’s been working overtime for others and has nothing left for you.
There’s another layer here, and I don’t want to skip it.
Women carry about 71% of the household mental load—the planning, the scheduling, the remembering, the invisible work that keeps everything running. Working mothers spend 72% more time on what researchers call the “second shift” of unpaid labor.
But this isn’t just about domestic labor. For many women—especially those leading organizations or dedicating their lives to causes bigger than themselves—the mental load may look different. It might be the emotional labor of keeping teams intact. The weight of missions and movements. The way you become the container for everyone else’s anxiety so they can function.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés, PhD, nailed it:
“The modern woman is a blur of activity. She is pressured to be all things to all people.”
She wrote that decades ago. It’s only gotten worse.
When we talk about goals and resolutions, we rarely account for any of this. We act like everyone’s starting from the same place—with the same bandwidth, the same margin, the same hours in the day.
But we’re not. And I think you may know that.
Which brings me back to something Dr. Woodman wrote—that our culture runs on “goal-oriented, rational, perfectionist” energy, and that what’s missing is “the balance which would restore the quality of the living.”
The quality of the living. Sit with that for a second.
That may be what’s being sacrificed. Not just time. Not just energy. Something older and wilder—what some might call soul, or the part of you that knows what you want before anyone taught you to doubt it.
And yet we keep trying to optimize our way through it.
Research shows that 63% of women acknowledge societal pressure influences their decision to set New Year’s resolutions. Which raises the question: how many of those resolutions are actually ours, and how many are just another way we’ve learned to perform?
Some women skip resolutions altogether. That might look like apathy. But honestly? I think it might be wisdom. Maybe some part of us just knows that adding another should to an already-maxed-out system isn’t actually the answer.
And yet—the cultural pressure to optimize, to improve, to finally get it together? It shows up every January like clockwork. Relentless. Cheerful. Utterly exhausting. (If one more ad tells me this is the year to “become my best self,” I might throw my phone.)
Here’s what I want to name for you.
A woman’s authentic goals are often like seeds buried under volcanic ash. While she’s been sweeping the paths for everyone else—making sure the kids are okay, making sure the team is okay, making sure the mission survives, making sure the holiday didn’t implode—the nutrients meant for her own growth may have stayed locked underground. Waiting. Not dead, but dormant.
So many of us may be carrying something into January that has nothing to do with discipline or motivation. We might be carrying the residue of December—the grief of what our families are, or aren’t. The old roles we slipped back into without meaning to. The familiar ache of wanting something we can’t quite name.
And from that place—activated, tender, depleted—we’re trying to design a whole year.
No wonder our goals can feel like punishment.
I know this pattern. I’ve lived it. And in a letter I’m writing for later this month, I’ll share more about my own complicated relationship with January and goal-setting. But for now, I want to keep the focus on you.
If you’re still wondering why this all feels so hard, there’s actually a biological explanation.
Chronic stress causes actual, measurable changes in your prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain responsible for planning, decision-making, and seeing the big picture. When your nervous system is activated, your thinking brain may struggle to do its best work.
In simple terms: setting clear, aligned goals from a dysregulated state can be extremely challenging. That’s not a character flaw. That’s just biology.
And if you’ve spent years—decades, maybe—in a state of chronic hypervigilance, scanning for other people’s needs, managing other people’s emotions? Your nervous system may have been working a second shift too. No wonder you might feel exhausted. No wonder decisions can feel impossible. No wonder your own desires might feel like a foreign language.
This is also why the popular myth that habits take 21 days to form is so unhelpful. The actual research? The median is 66 days, though the range varies significantly—anywhere from 18 to 254 days depending on the behavior and individual. For most people, it’s much longer than 21 days. When we expect transformation in three weeks and it doesn’t happen, we assume we’re the problem.
But we were set up to fail by a timeline that was never real. (Thank you, self-help industry, for that one.)
And there’s one more thing I want you to hear.
Studies on motivation show that autonomous motivation—goals that align with your actual values and interests—strongly predicts whether you’ll follow through. But controlled motivation—goals driven by external pressure, by “shoulds,” by the need to prove something—doesn’t predict success at all.
Read that again.
The type of motivation may matter more than how hard you try.
So the question isn’t How do I push harder?
The question might be Whose goals are these, really?
And for some of you, there may be a prior question: Can I even access what I want? Or have I been so attuned to others for so long that my own desires have gone underground?
This is where I want to get practical.
In my clinical work, I’ve come to think of all this as an operating system. A set of programs that may have been installed early—before you had any say in the matter—and have been running quietly in the background ever since.
The one that equates worth with usefulness. The one that sets goals from obligation instead of desire. The one that treats your own needs as negotiable—or invisible.
That operating system may have been brilliant once. It may have gotten you here. It may have made you capable and competent and the kind of person others can rely on.
But it might not be what carries you forward.
There’s a difference between caring that flows from fullness and caring that depletes you to the bone. Between service that’s chosen and service that may have been installed in you before you could consent. Between being generous and being erased.
And that distinction? It can change everything about how you approach a new year.
So where does that leave us?
What if your goals didn’t have to feel like punishment?
What if—instead of setting goals from a post-holiday activated nervous system—you learned how to settle first? To get your body into a state where you could actually hear what you want?
What if you could separate the goals that are actually yours from the ones you may have inherited—from your family, from the culture, from the version of you who still believes she has to earn her right to rest?
Or what if the real work this year isn’t about goals at all—but about finally learning to recognize your own needs as real?
This isn’t about shrinking your ambition. I’m not going to tell you to want less.
It’s about finally going down to the basement and doing the repair work—so that everything you build on top of it can actually hold. Because you can’t keep renovating the upper floors of your life while the foundation is cracked. At some point, you have to address what’s underneath. And January, for all its clean-slate mythology, might not be the month for blueprints. It might be the month to just… catch your breath.
Which brings me to something I’ve been preparing.
On Friday, January 23rd at noon Eastern, I’m hosting a 90-minute live workshop called The 2026 Reset: Why Your Goals Feel Like Punishment (And How to Set Ones That Actually Feel Good).
It’s for driven women from complicated families—whether your drive shows up as achievement or service or holding everything together. Women whose impressive lives don’t feel as good on the inside as they look on the outside.
We’ll look at how your family system wired your patterns, why the holidays activate old survival responses, and how to rebuild your 2026 plan from alignment instead of reactivity. You’ll walk away with a framework you can use on any goal for the rest of your life, 3 grounding practices, and 2 rewritten goals that are actually yours.
It’s $47. Camera optional. Sharing optional.
If any of this made you put your hand on your chest and think oh—I’d love to have you there.
In the meantime, I want you to know this:
Your goals can feel different. Your year can feel different.
Not because you try harder. But because you start from a different place.
You’re allowed to want a life that feels as good as it looks.
And you’re allowed to know what you want in the first place.
With warmth,
Annie
References & Sources
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- American Psychiatric Association. (2025, November 17). Americans are more anxious than last year about the upcoming holidays [Press release]. https://www.psychiatry.org/news-room/news-releases/americans-more-anxious-about-the-holidays
- American Psychological Association. (2023, November 29). Even a joyous holiday season can cause stress for most Americans [Press release]. https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2023/11/holiday-season-stress
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- Kim, K., Birditt, K. S., Zarit, S. H., & Fingerman, K. L. (2020). Typology of parent–child ties within families: Associations with psychological well-being. Journal of Family Psychology, 34(4), 448–458. https://doi.org/10.1037/fam0000595
- Koestner, R., Otis, N., Powers, T. A., Pelletier, L., & Gagnon, H. (2008). Autonomous motivation, controlled motivation, and goal progress. Journal of Personality, 76(5), 1201–1230. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-6494.2008.00519.x
- Lally, P., van Jaarsveld, C. H. M., Potts, H. W. W., & Wardle, J. (2010). How are habits formed: Modelling habit formation in the real world. European Journal of Social Psychology, 40(6), 998–1009. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.674
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- McKinsey & Company. (2022, May 4). Meeting the challenge of moms’ ‘double double shift’ at home and work. https://www.mckinsey.com/featured-insights/sustainable-inclusive-growth/future-of-america/meeting-the-challenge-of-moms-double-double-shift-at-home-and-work
- One A Day® (Bayer). (2025, January 16). New U.S. survey conducted on behalf of One A Day® by Bayer highlights four in five GenZ women feel societal pressures impact their New Year’s resolutions [Press release]. Business Wire. https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20250117894667/en/
- Statista Consumer Insights. (2024). New Year’s resolutions statistics and trends. Drive Research. https://www.driveresearch.com/market-research-company-blog/new-years-resolutions-statistics/
- University of Bath. (2024, December 11). Mothers bear the brunt of the ‘mental load,’ managing 7 in 10 household tasks [Press release]. https://www.bath.ac.uk/announcements/mothers-bear-the-brunt-of-the-mental-load-managing-7-in-10-household-tasks/
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