Now, we’re at the start of a new year. Do you know the one thing that is done the most at this time of the year, specifically in January? You’re right, we’re making New Year's resolutions. Like everyone, I’m making New Year's resolutions. Like every year, I convince myself that this year will be different and that I will actually stick to the plan. Like every year, it’s highly likely that I will plan these things and then complete the year with totally different things. But why is that so? First, why is it now? Why does the new year suddenly make us feel like we want to change our lives into a whole different one? Second, why it’s so fucking hard to stick to it? Now let me tell you what happened to me last week. I found myself attending the most bizarre trial of the year, and we’re barely two weeks in—a courtroom where the defendant was my brain. The charges were clear: sabotaging my New Year’s resolutions. The brain’s defense team had a strong lineup. But the prosecution—me, the person who's failed year after year—wasn’t buying it. We presented the evidence: failed gym memberships, abandoned diets, and that one time I promised to wake up early... and didn’t. Spoiler: the brain was found guilty, and we, the jury, were left wondering if there’s any hope for 2025 resolutions. TABLE OF CONTENTS the psychology of resolutions: why we’re drawn to them the brain’s three great culprits the scientifically sound checklist to build better resolutions 1. the psychology of resolutions: why we’re drawn to them New Year’s resolutions. The name speaks for itself. The annual ritual is where humans collectively decide to procrastinate self-improvement until a very specific date. Forget November or March—it’s January 1st or bust. But why do we cling so hard to this magical reset button? What is it about the first of the year that turns us into wide-eyed optimists, convinced we’ll finally use that gym membership or become fluent in Spanish via an app we’ll inevitably uninstall by February? a. the fresh start effect Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am the brain—the defendant in this trial of New Year’s resolutions. Let me present my case. Imagine life as a chaotic Word doc: typos everywhere, sentences mashed up with no flow, fonts jumping from Times New Roman to Comic Sans (why, even I don’t know), and that one paragraph so cringy you’d ctrl+z it into oblivion if you could. The format? A disaster. January 1st is the “Select All” & “Delete” button—the ultimate chance for a clean slate. Psychologists Dai, Milkman, and Riis (2014) named this phenomenon the Fresh Start Effect, but let’s not let fancy jargon distract you—it’s just me, your brain, trying to give you a reboot. I tell you the past belongs to someone else—someone who sent regrettable texts, missed deadlines, or made choices we won’t discuss here. That person? Not you anymore. Now, you’re stepping into your Taylor Swift "Midnights" era: mysterious, wise, crushing life. Your Honor, this isn’t some cheap trick. Humans have been doing this for millennia. Let’s bring in the ancient Babylonians as character witnesses. They started the “fresh start” trend 4,000 years ago, swearing to their gods they’d return borrowed tools or pay debts. And their consequences? Divine wrath. Forget a missed deadline—these gods handed out droughts and plagues like traffic tickets. The stakes were sky-high, yet the Babylonians still clung to the hope of reinvention. Fast forward to today. Sure, we’ve swapped oaths to gods for midnight promises over a cinnamon roll, but the energy is the same. Whether it’s vowing to lose weight, answering every email, or finally reading War and Peace, the goal is clear: growth, change, and redemption. b. emotional appeal of resolutions Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, when it comes to New Year’s resolutions, the brain has a pretty compelling defense. Enter Self-Determination Theory (Deci & Ryan, 1985), a fancy academic term for “Here’s why humans do what they do.” The brain argues that resolutions hit all the psychological sweet spots. exhibit A: mastery Progress feels amazing. Every small step forward triggers a celebratory burst of dopamine, the brain’s favorite party trick. Learning something new? That’s the brain shouting, “Look at me, I’m a wizard!” Whether it’s mastering sourdough bread or finally cracking how crypto works (spoiler: nobody truly does), improvement is intoxicating. Is it a crime to chase that high? exhibit B: autonomy Choice is empowering. The brain loves being the boss. Resolutions like “I’m quitting sugar” or “I’m finally reading War and Peace” feel seductive because you chose them. No external pressure, no micromanaging—it’s all you. And in a world filled with obligations, resolutions are the brain’s way of yelling, “I’m taking the wheel!” It’s not rebellion; it’s survival. exhibit C: purpose Finally, the brain argues that humans need a sense of purpose. Without it, we’re Roombas—bumping into walls, spinning in circles, and occasionally getting stuck under the couch. Resolutions provide direction. They say, “This is who you’re becoming.” Purpose turns chaos into focus, and the brain loves nothing more than feeling useful. And then, of course, there’s the prosecution’s favorite phrase: “New Year, New You.” The brain has mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, it’s inspiring—it’s all about potential and growth. On the other hand, it’s a backhanded compliment. “Old You? Meh. Do better.” So, is the brain guilty of fueling optimism and ambition every January? Perhaps. But is that a crime, or just evidence that deep down, we all crave progress, freedom, and meaning? The defense rests. c. cultural and social drivers of resolution-making Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, let me address another point in my defense: resolutions aren’t just some Western invention. No, humans everywhere, from every culture, love slapping a motivational label on an arbitrary date. Take the Lunar New Year, for example. In much of Asia, the focus isn’t on cutting carbs or quitting Starbucks—it’s about prosperity, familial harmony, and generational blessings. Westerners want abs; non-Westerners want peace; the same underlying concept, different packaging (tomato, tomato). This universal love for marking time with rituals? That’s not my fault—it’s human nature. It’s like we’re all in one giant group chat, and someone says, “Let’s all do better next year,” and everyone replies, “Bet.” But why, Your Honor, do resolutions feel mandatory? Why does it seem we’re guilted into them, even when we don’t care? Simple: social proof. Picture society as one giant high school. When the cool kids start journaling their goals or buying fancy planners they’ll abandon by March, the rest of us—primates that we are—feel the pressure to join in. Monkey see, monkey do. Everyone’s doing it, so it must be a good idea, right? Wrong. But peer pressure doesn’t care. And then, Your Honor, there’s the media—the prosecution’s biggest accomplice. The “New Year, New You” narrative infiltrates every corner of your life. Instagram feeds are overflowing with influencers declaring how this is the year they’re finally getting their life together. Ads popping up for planners, goal-setting courses, and fitness apps. Even the YouTube Peloton ad you skipped wasn’t just selling a bike—it was selling a fantasy: that you, too, can become a whole new person if you just commit. Influencers are the ringleaders here. They’re like the popular kids at the lunch table, convincing you that if you shell out $199 for their goal-setting masterclass, you’ll unlock the secrets to success. Spoiler: you won’t. But by the time you realize that, the credit card charge has already gone through. So, jury, let me ask you this: is it my fault if you feel the societal pressure to set resolutions? I didn’t create the global group chat or the influencer-industrial complex. I’m just the messenger, trying to keep up with the cultural tide. Resolutions? They’re not my idea; they’re a product of the world you live in. Let the record show: that I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve been given. If you want to point fingers, maybe start with the cool kids and their overpriced planners. I rest my case. 2. the brain’s three great culprits a. the prefrontal cortex takes the stand Your Honor, esteemed members of the jury, allow me to call the first witness to the stand: the Prefrontal Cortex. This is the part of the brain responsible for decision-making, planning, and self-improvement. It is here to testify about the sabotage it has faced at the hands of the Basal Ganglia. Let us hear the words of the victim. I, the Prefrontal Cortex, stand before you today as a victim. A victim not of external forces, but of the sabotage happening within my own mind. I am the one who formulates plans, sets goals, and strives for self-improvement. I have resolutions, I have ambitions, and I have the potential for change. But I am constantly being undermined by a more powerful, automatic force—the Basal Ganglia. I set resolutions, Your Honor. I planned to wake up early, go to the gym, eat healthier, and stop binge-watching The Office for the hundredth time. I crafted detailed schedules, made lists, and sought motivation from every corner. But despite all my efforts, I am here, defeated and disheartened, because I face a relentless opponent—the Basal Ganglia. the basal ganglia: the saboteur The Basal Ganglia, Your Honor, is the part of my brain that thrives on routine and comfort. It is designed to keep me in patterns, making everything automatic and effortless. While I try to change, to evolve, the Basal Ganglia drags me back into my old ways. It doesn’t care about my resolutions. It cares only about keeping me comfortable. “Just one more episode of The Office,” it says. “You deserve it.” This is not a battle of equal forces. The Basal Ganglia’s power lies in its ability to create automatic, mindless habits. It doesn’t require effort. It doesn’t require willpower. It is the part of me that wants to stay in bed, to stay on the couch, to stay comfortable, and avoid the struggle. It’s efficient. It’s stubborn. And, most crucially, it’s out to defeat me. the fight: an uneven battle Every day, I begin with the best of intentions. Today, I will be productive. Today, I will work toward my goals. Today, I will break free from my old habits. But the moment I take action, the Basal Ganglia strikes back with its all-too-familiar routines. I try to get up, to move toward a better future, but it says, “Just one more episode. Just one more hour of scrolling. You deserve it.” It is a constant cycle. My resolve crumbles. I lose my energy. The Basal Ganglia continues its hold on me, ensuring that no matter how hard I try, I never break free. the aftermath: a cycle of defeat The aftermath of this battle, Your Honor, is always the same. By the end of the day, I am drained. I have no energy left to fight. The Basal Ganglia, relentless in its pursuit of comfort, takes control. I reach for comfort foods. I scroll through my phone. My plans, my goals, my resolutions—they all disappear. The gym? Abandoned. The healthy meals? Left for tomorrow. And the cycle begins anew. This isn’t just about willpower. It’s about a force that doesn’t tire, and doesn’t lose. It’s a machine of comfort, a well-oiled routine that never breaks, never falters. And as I collapse into this routine, I am left with nothing but the bitter taste of defeat. who’s to blame? So, Your Honor, the question remains: who is to blame? I, the Prefrontal Cortex, set the intentions. I made the plans. I wanted to improve, to break free. However, I was not strong enough to overcome the Basal Ganglia. It is the Basal Ganglia that kept me locked in old habits, undermining my every effort. It is the true criminal in this case. And it is the one who needs to be held accountable. b. ventral striatum, dopamine, and instant gratification Your Honor, esteemed members of the jury, I now call the second perpetrator to the stand: the Ventral Striatum. A seemingly innocent part of the brain, but in truth, it is an accomplice in the crime we are investigating today. It uses the power of dopamine as a weapon to keep you trapped in a cycle of instant gratification, undermining your every attempt at meaningful change. Let us hear from the Ventral Striatum. I, the Ventral Striatum, do not act alone, Your Honor. I am part of a larger network, deeply connected to the Basal Ganglia, the Prefrontal Cortex, and even the limbic system. But make no mistake, I am the one who gets the dopamine ball rolling—whether you like it or not. My job is simple: I’m all about motivation, reward, and pleasure. And I wield dopamine like a puppet master controls the strings. When you think you're making a rational decision—when you tell yourself you're going to eat a salad or spend the next hour working—it's my influence that starts to push you toward those immediate rewards, the easy dopamine hits. dopamine—my weapon of choice Dopamine, Your Honor, is the currency I deal in. I know exactly how to exploit it. When you’re faced with the decision to study for a test, or to check Instagram for the hundredth time, I make sure you feel that dopamine rush the moment you give in to your cravings. Do you think you're making a choice? Think again. I’m the one who’s already set the wheels in motion. It’s not that you don’t know what’s good for you. It’s that the dopamine I release, whether from a “like” on a photo or the immediate reward of a snack, is just too much to resist. Even if you know you’d be better off doing something else—something harder, something longer-term—I ensure that your brain stays focused on the immediate hits, dragging you away from your goals. long-term goals? not in my vocabulary Take those resolutions you’ve made. You know the ones. “I’m going to learn Chinese, 我要学中文” or “I’ll save money for a vacation.” Sure, Your Honor, those goals sound noble. But I’ve got a counteroffer: the immediate pleasure of scrolling through TikTok, or the quick satisfaction of an Oreo cookie. You see, long-term goals require effort, persistence, and patience. But those aren’t the rewards I’m interested in. What’s my job? To get you hooked on the instant. Whether it’s a TikTok cat doing parkour, or that satisfying feeling of checking your email inbox, I know how to trigger dopamine in a way that makes you forget all about the future. The bait-and-switch You think you’re in control? I’ve got news for you. When you check your phone for a quick distraction, when you dig into a bag of chips to cope with boredom, that’s me pulling the strings. Your prefrontal cortex might say, “Let’s stick to our long-term goals!” But my influence is far stronger in these moments. I’m like the magician who distracts you with a shiny object while the real trick happens elsewhere. I turn everyday decisions into dopamine jackpots, and before you know it, you’ve completely abandoned your plans for the day. In fact, every time you indulge in an immediate reward, I’m strengthening that impulse—making it harder to resist next time. the cycle of self-sabotage This isn’t just a one-time occurrence, Your Honor. This is a pattern. It’s a cycle of self-sabotage. You start your day with the best intentions: you’re going to be productive, and you’re going to work toward your goals. But when the temptation arises—the temptation to binge-watch that series, to scroll through social media for “just five more minutes”—I step in, making sure your brain is flooded with dopamine. The result? You feel good right now, but in the long run, you’re further away from achieving your goals. You’re caught in a never-ending loop of instant gratification, and it’s not by accident. It’s because I, the Ventral Striatum, know exactly how to exploit dopamine to keep you hooked. why I’m the real culprit I’m the one who turns your decisions into a constant battle between the immediate and the delayed. The Prefrontal Cortex might set the goals, but it’s my influence that makes it so damn hard to stick to them. I’m not just an innocent bystander here, Your Honor—I am the mastermind behind your inability to say “no” to the quick dopamine hits that sabotage your long-term ambitions. While you’re making plans for the future, I’m here making sure that those plans are delayed indefinitely. I ensure that instant rewards always seem like the better choice, even though you know, deep down, that they’re not. The marshmallow test? I’m the one making sure you eat the marshmallow now. c. the amygdala’s sabotage Your Honor, esteemed members of the jury, we begin today’s trial with an unsettling truth: The most critical figure in this case, the amygdala, is conspicuously absent. Why? Because, as it has done time and time again, it is too scared to face the consequences of its actions. The amygdala, the brain’s emotional watchdog, is quick to react at the slightest sign of discomfort. Its primary function is to protect us from danger, but in the world we live in today, where the greatest threat we face is often the discomfort of stepping outside our comfort zones, the amygdala has become a false alarm—overreacting to anything that could trigger fear, stress, or anxiety. When faced with something challenging—like starting a new business, going back to school, or simply hitting the gym—it flares up, sending us into fight-or-flight mode, as though the very survival of our brain were at stake. It’s a classic case of avoidance. The amygdala is hardwired to prioritize safety, and its primary instinct is to keep us in our comfort zones. That’s why, as soon as you set an ambitious goal—something that requires time, effort, or risk—the amygdala jumps into action. It doesn’t matter if the task at hand is something that could truly improve your life. It only sees the potential for discomfort, failure, or uncertainty, and it responds by signaling to your brain, “This is dangerous. Turn back now.” In a moment of stress, the amygdala doesn’t pause to consider the long-term benefits of pushing through; instead, it sends signals that flood you with anxiety, doubt, and fear. One setback—maybe an email goes unanswered or a small failure occurs—and your amygdala starts playing its greatest hits: “You’re not good enough. This will never work. Why bother?” The emotional panic sets in, and suddenly, all the motivation you have to continue vanishes, leaving you stranded in your comfort zone. And yet, here we are, attempting to hold the amygdala accountable for its actions, and it’s nowhere to be found. Why? Because, as always, it’s too afraid to face the trial. Just like it does when you confront big changes in your life, the amygdala has chosen to cower in fear, unable or unwilling to face the discomfort that comes with this very moment. Its absence is telling. This is a being that thrives on keeping you stuck, trapped in cycles of avoidance, self-doubt, and stagnation. The amygdala does not want you to succeed—it wants you to stay small, stay safe, and, most importantly, stay scared. The fact that it’s too frightened to show up today is a clear indication of just how deeply it has infiltrated your decision-making, keeping you from tackling the very challenges that could lead to growth. Today, without the amygdala’s presence, we are left with a clear task: To confront the impact of fear, overreaction, and avoidance, and to understand how this seemingly protective part of the brain sabotages our best intentions. Its absence only further highlights the role it plays in creating the very obstacles that stand between you and the goals you’re trying to achieve.1 closing statement Your Honor, esteemed jury, the crimes are clear. The basal ganglia stand first, guilty of trapping you in repetitive, unproductive habits, preventing any real change from taking place. Its hold over your routines has kept you in an endless loop, stuck in comfort and devoid of growth. Next, the ventral striatum has used dopamine as a tool of manipulation, drawing you into a cycle of instant gratification and quick rewards. It ensures that you always favor the momentary pleasure, abandoning your long-term goals in favor of fleeting satisfaction. And finally, the amygdala, too afraid to face its own trial, hides in the shadows, its exaggerated fear response sabotaging every step forward. It makes mountains out of molehills, convincing you that challenges are life-threatening dangers, forever keeping you in a state of fear and avoiding progress. Together, these three have conspired to thwart your success, controlling your actions and thoughts to ensure that you stay stuck. It’s time for them to face the consequences of their manipulation. 3. the scientifically sound checklist to build better resolutions a. neuroscience of habit formation feeding the brain’s obsession with automation Your brain, as it turns out, is lazy. But not in the “Netflix-binge-and-eat-hot-Cheetos” kind of way—it’s more like the efficient, robotic coworker who organizes everything into color-coded spreadsheets to save time. Your brain loves automation because thinking is exhausting. Every time you force it to consciously decide something—like whether you should floss before or after brushing—it has to burn precious energy. Habits, on the other hand, are the brain’s “set it and forget it” strategy. Imagine your brain as the world’s busiest intern, drowning in tasks, sticky notes, and emails marked “URGENT!” It will automate literally anything it can to get some relief. That’s why you don’t have to think about how to tie your shoes or why your morning coffee routine feels as natural as breathing. Habits are your brain’s way of running on autopilot. But here’s the kicker: if you want to change a habit—like replacing “doom-scrolling TikTok” with “journaling your thoughts”—your brain’s like, “Ugh, that sounds like work.” And it’s right. Changing habits requires neuroplasticity, which is your brain’s ability to rewire itself. micro-habits Here’s the good news: your brain might be lazy, but it’s also a sucker for small wins. Enter micro-habits, the life hack for anyone who’s ever started a New Year’s resolution and given up by February. Instead of saying, “I’m going to run a marathon this year!” micro-habits are like, “How about you just put on your sneakers today?” Small, almost laughably easy actions trick your brain into thinking, “Hey, this isn’t so bad.” This strategy works because it taps into your brain’s dopaminergic reward system. Dopamine—the feel-good neurotransmitter—gets released every time you achieve something, no matter how small. So, when you check off “drink one glass of water” on your to-do list, your brain rewards you as if you just closed a million-dollar deal. This creates a feedback loop: small action → dopamine hit → repeat the action → habit formed. Starting with micro-habits also activates neuroplasticity. It’s like giving your brain a tiny, manageable dumbbell to lift instead of immediately trying to deadlift 400 pounds. Over time, these small actions snowball into full-blown habits. b. identity-based goals and neural pathways If micro-habits are the gateway drug to better habits, identity-based goals are the full-blown lifestyle change. Instead of focusing on what you want to do, this approach focuses on who you want to be. Let’s say your goal is to “work out more.” Meh. That’s vague, and your brain knows it. But if you frame it as “I’m someone who values fitness,” you’ve just created a self-reinforcing loop. Neuroscientific studies show that tying behavior to identity activates the default mode network (DMN)—a part of your brain responsible for self-reflection and personal narrative.2 The DMN is basically the editor-in-chief of your life’s story. When you tell it, “Hey, I’m the kind of person who prioritizes health,” it starts aligning your actions to match that story. This isn’t just woo-woo psychology like your average feel-good Facebook personality—it’s backed by self-consistency theory. Self-consistency theory, introduced by Prescott Lecky, is all about how people try to stay true to their self-image. Basically, we like our actions, beliefs, and how we see ourselves to match up. That’s why we might resist change or stick to certain habits—even if they’re not great for us—just because they feel “right” based on how we view ourselves. So, if you identify as someone who “never skips leg day,” skipping leg day feels like an existential crisis. Your brain rebels against the inconsistency, making it easier to stick to the habit. Remember the prefrontal cortex, your brain’s responsible decision-maker? It loves identity-based goals because they give it a clear directive. Over time, the repeated behavior gets transferred to the basal ganglia, your brain’s habit center, making it feel automatic. For example, if you start saying, “I’m someone who writes every day,” and, you know, write every day, your prefrontal cortex will initially put in the effort to make that happen. But after enough repetition, the basal ganglia takes over, and writing becomes second nature—like brushing your teeth or stalking your ex’s LinkedIn at 3 a.m. When you repeatedly act in accordance with your identity, the neural pathways related to that behavior become stronger. It’s like the famous quote from 鲁迅 (Lǔ Xùn): On this earth, there were no paths to begin with; paths are made by walking them. Think of identity-based goals like becoming a pop star. Beyoncé doesn’t just sing; she is a singer, a performer. Her identity fuels her habits—rehearsing for hours, eating healthy, and consistently delivering Grammy-worthy performances. She doesn’t wake up and think, “Should I practice today?” It’s just who she is. If you want to build lasting habits, you need to channel your inner Beyoncé. Start small, tie your actions to an identity, and let your brain’s lazy automation system do the rest. Sure, the process isn’t glamorous—it’s 66 days of grinding before you hit your stride. But eventually, you’ll be running on autopilot, crushing your goals, and wondering why you ever struggled in the first place. Now go forth and become the Beyoncé of whatever you’re trying to achieve. Your prefrontal cortex is rooting for you. c. routines and triggers Let’s talk about triggers, which are the equivalent of your brain’s Post-it notes. You know, those little yellow squares you stick on the fridge so you remember to buy milk—but instead, they remind you to order pizza for the third time this week. In the habit world, triggers (or “cues” for those who like science words) are the starting pistol for your brain’s habit loop, which Charles Duhigg explains as cue → routine → reward. It’s the behavioral version of a Netflix autoplay—once the cue hits, your brain just rolls into the next episode without even asking you. Think about it: why do you brush your teeth every morning? Is it because you deeply value oral hygiene? Please. It’s because the sight of your toothbrush sitting next to the sink triggers your autopilot, and suddenly you’re foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. That’s how powerful a trigger is—it saves you from having to consciously think, which, as we’ve established, is something your brain hates doing. 3 Give it a visual cue, like gym clothes by the door, and boom—you’re more likely to hit the gym than hit snooze. It’s like Pavlov’s dog but for humans, except instead of salivating at a bell, you’re lacing up sneakers because your brain went, “Oh, right, exercise!” But let’s not forget the real MVP: reward-based learning. Schultz et al. (1997) found that when your brain gets a reward—a hit of dopamine, the chemical equivalent of a high-five—it strengthens the neural circuits associated with the behavior. So, if you finish a workout and treat yourself to an overpriced green smoothie, your brain files that under “Good stuff, let’s do it again.” The cue gets stronger, the routine gets easier, and the reward keeps the loop spinning. The trick is to design a system where your brain does the heavy lifting. Think of it like assembling IKEA furniture: it’ll take some setup, but once it’s built, it works like magic (or falls apart, depending on how much effort you put in). d. self-compassion Okay, so you’re cruising along, and then—BAM—you mess up. You miss a workout, binge-watch an entire season of The Office instead of working on that side hustle, or eat a family-size bag of chips at 1 a.m. because of reasons. Cue the spiral of shame, again. Your brain starts hurling insults at you like a mean girl in a teen rom-com: “Ugh, you’re the worst. Why even bother?” Here’s the thing: shame and guilt are terrible personal trainers. Neuroscience proves it. When you mess up, your amygdala—the emotional drama queen of your brain—lights up like a Christmas tree. This triggers stress responses that throw a wrench into your prefrontal cortex, the part of your brain responsible for decision-making and impulse control. You know, the part that might’ve said, “Hey, maybe don’t eat all those chips.” Chronic stress makes it harder for your brain to focus, plan, and, well, adult. It’s like trying to drive a car with a flat tire—you’re not getting anywhere, and you’re just making things worse. Kristin Neff’s research shows that being kind to yourself when you screw up isn’t just touchy-feely nonsense.4 Self-compassion helps deactivate the stress response, giving your brain the mental equivalent of a deep breath. When you treat failure as a speed bump instead of a dead end, you’re way more likely to dust yourself off and keep going. It’s just data, not the end of the world Here’s the deal: failure isn’t a character flaw; it’s feedback. Think of it like trying to cook something new. The first pancake is always a disaster, but that doesn’t mean you quit breakfast forever. It just means you adjust the heat, pour a little less batter, and try again. Carol Dweck’s growth mindset theory is all about this.5 People who see failure as part of the learning process are like those annoying toddlers who keep asking “Why?” after every answer—they’re relentless in their pursuit of improvement. And guess what? Science loves those toddlers. Studies show that when you reframe failure as a stepping stone instead of a faceplant, your brain stays flexible and ready to adapt.6 So the next time you bomb a habit, don’t go full self-destruction mode. Instead, channel your inner data analyst. Missed a workout? Ask why. Too tired? Okay, maybe it’s a scheduling issue. Skipped your morning meditation? Cool, maybe the cue needs tweaking. Treat your failures like plot twists in a Netflix drama—unexpected but necessary for character development. conclusion Now, if it’s two weeks in and you’re already failing, don’t start crying in your kombucha just yet. Change is hard, and yes, your brain isn’t exactly set up for it. Any attempt to break the comfort zone feels like an epic battle. But here’s the twist: you can rewire your brain—it’s not some Hollywood plotline, it’s actual science. Yes, the brain is lazy. It loves shortcuts. It’s essentially a Netflix binge-watching machine that keeps hitting "next episode" even when it’s 3 a.m. But here’s the hopeful part: with the right strategies, you can trick your brain into focusing on your goals. You’ll still have setbacks—your brain will still try to revert to its old ways, like that one friend who always suggests going to the bar when you’ve already decided you’re on a diet. But at least when you fail your resolutions again, you can blame your brain for it. Read the original post, "human sues brain for 2025 resolution sabotage," for more detailed footnotes and direct interaction with the author. Now, we’re at the start of a new year. Do you know the one thing that is done the most at this time of the year, specifically in January? You’re right, we’re making New Year's resolutions. Like everyone, I’m making New Year's resolutions. Like every year, I convince myself that this year will be different and that I will actually stick to the plan. Like every year, it’s highly likely that I will plan these things and then complete the year with totally different things. But why is that so? First, why is it now? Why does the new year suddenly make us feel like we want to change our lives into a whole different one? Second, why it’s so fucking hard to stick to it? Now let me tell you what happened to me last week. I found myself attending the most bizarre trial of the year, and we’re barely two weeks in—a courtroom where the defendant was my brain. The charges were clear: sabotaging my New Year’s resolutions. The brain’s defense team had a strong lineup. But the prosecution—me, the person who's failed year after year—wasn’t buying it. We presented the evidence: failed gym memberships, abandoned diets, and that one time I promised to wake up early... and didn’t. Spoiler: the brain was found guilty, and we, the jury, were left wondering if there’s any hope for 2025 resolutions. TABLE OF CONTENTS the psychology of resolutions: why we’re drawn to them the brain’s three great culprits the scientifically sound checklist to build better resolutions the psychology of resolutions: why we’re drawn to them the psychology of resolutions: why we’re drawn to them the brain’s three great culprits the brain’s three great culprits the scientifically sound checklist to build better resolutions the scientifically sound checklist to build better resolutions 1. the psychology of resolutions: why we’re drawn to them 1. the psychology of resolutions: why we’re drawn to them New Year’s resolutions. The name speaks for itself. The annual ritual is where humans collectively decide to procrastinate self-improvement until a very specific date. Forget November or March—it’s January 1st or bust. But why do we cling so hard to this magical reset button? What is it about the first of the year that turns us into wide-eyed optimists, convinced we’ll finally use that gym membership or become fluent in Spanish via an app we’ll inevitably uninstall by February? a. the fresh start effect a. the fresh start effect Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am the brain—the defendant in this trial of New Year’s resolutions. Let me present my case. Imagine life as a chaotic Word doc: typos everywhere, sentences mashed up with no flow, fonts jumping from Times New Roman to Comic Sans (why, even I don’t know), and that one paragraph so cringy you’d ctrl+z it into oblivion if you could. The format? A disaster. January 1st is the “Select All” & “Delete” button—the ultimate chance for a clean slate. one Psychologists Dai, Milkman, and Riis (2014) named this phenomenon the Fresh Start Effect, but let’s not let fancy jargon distract you—it’s just me, your brain, trying to give you a reboot. I tell you the past belongs to someone else—someone who sent regrettable texts, missed deadlines, or made choices we won’t discuss here. That person? Not you anymore . Now, you’re stepping into your Taylor Swift "Midnights" era: mysterious, wise, crushing life. Not you anymore Your Honor, this isn’t some cheap trick. Humans have been doing this for millennia. Let’s bring in the ancient Babylonians as character witnesses. They started the “fresh start” trend 4,000 years ago, swearing to their gods they’d return borrowed tools or pay debts. And their consequences? Divine wrath. Forget a missed deadline—these gods handed out droughts and plagues like traffic tickets. The stakes were sky-high, yet the Babylonians still clung to the hope of reinvention. Fast forward to today. Sure, we’ve swapped oaths to gods for midnight promises over a cinnamon roll, but the energy is the same. Whether it’s vowing to lose weight, answering every email, or finally reading War and Peace, the goal is clear: growth, change, and redemption. War and Peace, b. emotional appeal of resolutions b. emotional appeal of resolutions Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, when it comes to New Year’s resolutions, the brain has a pretty compelling defense. Enter Self-Determination Theory (Deci & Ryan, 1985), a fancy academic term for “Here’s why humans do what they do.” Self-Determination Theory The brain argues that resolutions hit all the psychological sweet spots. exhibit A: mastery exhibit A: mastery Progress feels amazing . Every small step forward triggers a celebratory burst of dopamine, the brain’s favorite party trick. Learning something new? That’s the brain shouting, “Look at me, I’m a wizard!” Whether it’s mastering sourdough bread or finally cracking how crypto works (spoiler: nobody truly does), improvement is intoxicating. Is it a crime to chase that high? amazing exhibit B: autonomy exhibit B: autonomy Choice is empowering. The brain loves being the boss. Resolutions like “I’m quitting sugar” or “I’m finally reading War and Peace ” feel seductive because you chose them. No external pressure, no micromanaging—it’s all you. And in a world filled with obligations, resolutions are the brain’s way of yelling, “I’m taking the wheel!” It’s not rebellion; it’s survival. War and Peace you exhibit C: purpose exhibit C: purpose Finally, the brain argues that humans need a sense of purpose. Without it, we’re Roombas—bumping into walls, spinning in circles, and occasionally getting stuck under the couch. Resolutions provide direction. They say, “This is who you’re becoming.” Purpose turns chaos into focus, and the brain loves nothing more than feeling useful. need And then, of course, there’s the prosecution’s favorite phrase: “New Year, New You.” The brain has mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, it’s inspiring—it’s all about potential and growth. On the other hand, it’s a backhanded compliment. “Old You? Meh. Do better.” So, is the brain guilty of fueling optimism and ambition every January? Perhaps. But is that a crime, or just evidence that deep down, we all crave progress, freedom, and meaning? The defense rests. c. cultural and social drivers of resolution-making c. cultural and social drivers of resolution-making Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, let me address another point in my defense: resolutions aren’t just some Western invention. No, humans everywhere, from every culture, love slapping a motivational label on an arbitrary date. Take the Lunar New Year, for example. In much of Asia, the focus isn’t on cutting carbs or quitting Starbucks—it’s about prosperity, familial harmony, and generational blessings. Westerners want abs; non-Westerners want peace; the same underlying concept, different packaging (tomato, tomato). This universal love for marking time with rituals? That’s not my fault—it’s human nature. It’s like we’re all in one giant group chat, and someone says, “Let’s all do better next year,” and everyone replies, “Bet.” But why, Your Honor, do resolutions feel mandatory ? Why does it seem we’re guilted into them, even when we don’t care? mandatory Simple: social proof. social proof. Picture society as one giant high school. When the cool kids start journaling their goals or buying fancy planners they’ll abandon by March, the rest of us—primates that we are—feel the pressure to join in. Monkey see, monkey do. Everyone’s doing it, so it must be a good idea, right? Wrong. But peer pressure doesn’t care. And then, Your Honor, there’s the media—the prosecution’s biggest accomplice. The “New Year, New You” narrative infiltrates every corner of your life. Instagram feeds are overflowing with influencers declaring how this is the year they’re finally getting their life together. Ads popping up for planners, goal-setting courses, and fitness apps. Even the YouTube Peloton ad you skipped wasn’t just selling a bike—it was selling a fantasy: that you, too, can become a whole new person if you just commit. this commit. Influencers are the ringleaders here. They’re like the popular kids at the lunch table, convincing you that if you shell out $199 for their goal-setting masterclass, you’ll unlock the secrets to success. Spoiler: you won’t. But by the time you realize that, the credit card charge has already gone through. So, jury, let me ask you this: is it my fault if you feel the societal pressure to set resolutions? I didn’t create the global group chat or the influencer-industrial complex. I’m just the messenger, trying to keep up with the cultural tide. Resolutions? They’re not my idea; they’re a product of the world you live in. Let the record show: that I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve been given. If you want to point fingers, maybe start with the cool kids and their overpriced planners. I rest my case. 2. the brain’s three great culprits 2. the brain’s three great culprits a. the prefrontal cortex takes the stand Your Honor, esteemed members of the jury, allow me to call the first witness to the stand: the Prefrontal Cortex. This is the part of the brain responsible for decision-making, planning, and self-improvement. It is here to testify about the sabotage it has faced at the hands of the Basal Ganglia. Let us hear the words of the victim. I, the Prefrontal Cortex, stand before you today as a victim. A victim not of external forces, but of the sabotage happening within my own mind. I am the one who formulates plans, sets goals, and strives for self-improvement. I have resolutions, I have ambitions, and I have the potential for change. But I am constantly being undermined by a more powerful, automatic force—the Basal Ganglia. I set resolutions, Your Honor. I planned to wake up early, go to the gym, eat healthier, and stop binge-watching The Office for the hundredth time. I crafted detailed schedules, made lists, and sought motivation from every corner. But despite all my efforts, I am here, defeated and disheartened, because I face a relentless opponent—the Basal Ganglia. The Office the basal ganglia: the saboteur the basal ganglia: the saboteur The Basal Ganglia, Your Honor, is the part of my brain that thrives on routine and comfort. It is designed to keep me in patterns, making everything automatic and effortless. While I try to change, to evolve, the Basal Ganglia drags me back into my old ways. It doesn’t care about my resolutions. It cares only about keeping me comfortable. “Just one more episode of The Office ,” it says. “You deserve it.” The Office This is not a battle of equal forces. The Basal Ganglia’s power lies in its ability to create automatic, mindless habits. It doesn’t require effort. It doesn’t require willpower. It is the part of me that wants to stay in bed, to stay on the couch, to stay comfortable, and avoid the struggle. It’s efficient. It’s stubborn. And, most crucially, it’s out to defeat me. the fight: an uneven battle the fight: an uneven battle Every day, I begin with the best of intentions. Today, I will be productive. Today, I will work toward my goals. Today, I will break free from my old habits. But the moment I take action, the Basal Ganglia strikes back with its all-too-familiar routines. I try to get up, to move toward a better future, but it says, “Just one more episode. Just one more hour of scrolling. You deserve it.” It is a constant cycle. My resolve crumbles. I lose my energy. The Basal Ganglia continues its hold on me, ensuring that no matter how hard I try, I never break free. the aftermath: a cycle of defeat the aftermath: a cycle of defeat The aftermath of this battle, Your Honor, is always the same. By the end of the day, I am drained. I have no energy left to fight. The Basal Ganglia, relentless in its pursuit of comfort, takes control. I reach for comfort foods. I scroll through my phone. My plans, my goals, my resolutions—they all disappear. The gym? Abandoned. The healthy meals? Left for tomorrow. And the cycle begins anew. This isn’t just about willpower. It’s about a force that doesn’t tire, and doesn’t lose. It’s a machine of comfort, a well-oiled routine that never breaks, never falters. And as I collapse into this routine, I am left with nothing but the bitter taste of defeat. who’s to blame? who’s to blame? So, Your Honor, the question remains: who is to blame? I, the Prefrontal Cortex, set the intentions. I made the plans. I wanted to improve, to break free. However, I was not strong enough to overcome the Basal Ganglia. It is the Basal Ganglia that kept me locked in old habits, undermining my every effort. It is the true criminal in this case. And it is the one who needs to be held accountable. b. ventral striatum, dopamine, and instant gratification b. ventral striatum, dopamine, and instant gratification Your Honor, esteemed members of the jury, I now call the second perpetrator to the stand: the Ventral Striatum. A seemingly innocent part of the brain, but in truth, it is an accomplice in the crime we are investigating today. It uses the power of dopamine as a weapon to keep you trapped in a cycle of instant gratification, undermining your every attempt at meaningful change. Let us hear from the Ventral Striatum. I, the Ventral Striatum, do not act alone, Your Honor. I am part of a larger network, deeply connected to the Basal Ganglia, the Prefrontal Cortex, and even the limbic system. But make no mistake, I am the one who gets the dopamine ball rolling—whether you like it or not. My job is simple: I’m all about motivation, reward, and pleasure. And I wield dopamine like a puppet master controls the strings. When you think you're making a rational decision—when you tell yourself you're going to eat a salad or spend the next hour working—it's my influence that starts to push you toward those immediate rewards, the easy dopamine hits. dopamine—my weapon of choice dopamine—my weapon of choice Dopamine, Your Honor, is the currency I deal in. I know exactly how to exploit it. When you’re faced with the decision to study for a test, or to check Instagram for the hundredth time, I make sure you feel that dopamine rush the moment you give in to your cravings. Do you think you're making a choice? Think again. I’m the one who’s already set the wheels in motion. It’s not that you don’t know what’s good for you. It’s that the dopamine I release, whether from a “like” on a photo or the immediate reward of a snack, is just too much to resist. Even if you know you’d be better off doing something else—something harder, something longer-term—I ensure that your brain stays focused on the immediate hits, dragging you away from your goals. know long-term goals? not in my vocabulary long-term goals? not in my vocabulary Take those resolutions you’ve made. You know the ones. “I’m going to learn Chinese, 我要学中文” or “I’ll save money for a vacation.” Sure, Your Honor, those goals sound noble. But I’ve got a counteroffer: the immediate pleasure of scrolling through TikTok, or the quick satisfaction of an Oreo cookie. You see, long-term goals require effort, persistence, and patience. But those aren’t the rewards I’m interested in. What’s my job? To get you hooked on the instant. Whether it’s a TikTok cat doing parkour, or that satisfying feeling of checking your email inbox, I know how to trigger dopamine in a way that makes you forget all about the future. The bait-and-switch The bait-and-switch You think you’re in control? I’ve got news for you. When you check your phone for a quick distraction, when you dig into a bag of chips to cope with boredom, that’s me pulling the strings. Your prefrontal cortex might say, “Let’s stick to our long-term goals!” But my influence is far stronger in these moments. I’m like the magician who distracts you with a shiny object while the real trick happens elsewhere. I turn everyday decisions into dopamine jackpots, and before you know it, you’ve completely abandoned your plans for the day. In fact, every time you indulge in an immediate reward, I’m strengthening that impulse—making it harder to resist next time. the cycle of self-sabotage the cycle of self-sabotage This isn’t just a one-time occurrence, Your Honor. This is a pattern. It’s a cycle of self-sabotage. You start your day with the best intentions: you’re going to be productive, and you’re going to work toward your goals. But when the temptation arises—the temptation to binge-watch that series, to scroll through social media for “just five more minutes”—I step in, making sure your brain is flooded with dopamine. The result? You feel good right now , but in the long run, you’re further away from achieving your goals. You’re caught in a never-ending loop of instant gratification, and it’s not by accident. It’s because I, the Ventral Striatum, know exactly how to exploit dopamine to keep you hooked. right now why I’m the real culprit why I’m the real culprit I’m the one who turns your decisions into a constant battle between the immediate and the delayed. The Prefrontal Cortex might set the goals, but it’s my influence that makes it so damn hard to stick to them. I’m not just an innocent bystander here, Your Honor—I am the mastermind behind your inability to say “no” to the quick dopamine hits that sabotage your long-term ambitions. While you’re making plans for the future, I’m here making sure that those plans are delayed indefinitely. I ensure that instant rewards always seem like the better choice, even though you know, deep down, that they’re not. The marshmallow test? I’m the one making sure you eat the marshmallow now. c. the amygdala’s sabotage Your Honor, esteemed members of the jury, we begin today’s trial with an unsettling truth: The most critical figure in this case, the amygdala, is conspicuously absent. Why? Because, as it has done time and time again, it is too scared to face the consequences of its actions. The amygdala, the brain’s emotional watchdog, is quick to react at the slightest sign of discomfort. Its primary function is to protect us from danger, but in the world we live in today, where the greatest threat we face is often the discomfort of stepping outside our comfort zones, the amygdala has become a false alarm—overreacting to anything that could trigger fear, stress, or anxiety. When faced with something challenging—like starting a new business, going back to school, or simply hitting the gym—it flares up, sending us into fight-or-flight mode, as though the very survival of our brain were at stake. It’s a classic case of avoidance. The amygdala is hardwired to prioritize safety, and its primary instinct is to keep us in our comfort zones. That’s why, as soon as you set an ambitious goal—something that requires time, effort, or risk—the amygdala jumps into action. It doesn’t matter if the task at hand is something that could truly improve your life. It only sees the potential for discomfort, failure, or uncertainty, and it responds by signaling to your brain, “This is dangerous. Turn back now.” In a moment of stress, the amygdala doesn’t pause to consider the long-term benefits of pushing through; instead, it sends signals that flood you with anxiety, doubt, and fear. One setback—maybe an email goes unanswered or a small failure occurs—and your amygdala starts playing its greatest hits: “You’re not good enough. This will never work. Why bother?” The emotional panic sets in, and suddenly, all the motivation you have to continue vanishes, leaving you stranded in your comfort zone. “You’re not good enough. This will never work. Why bother?” And yet, here we are, attempting to hold the amygdala accountable for its actions, and it’s nowhere to be found. Why? Because, as always, it’s too afraid to face the trial. Just like it does when you confront big changes in your life, the amygdala has chosen to cower in fear, unable or unwilling to face the discomfort that comes with this very moment. Its absence is telling. This is a being that thrives on keeping you stuck, trapped in cycles of avoidance, self-doubt, and stagnation. The amygdala does not want you to succeed—it wants you to stay small, stay safe, and, most importantly, stay scared. The fact that it’s too frightened to show up today is a clear indication of just how deeply it has infiltrated your decision-making, keeping you from tackling the very challenges that could lead to growth. Today, without the amygdala’s presence, we are left with a clear task: To confront the impact of fear, overreaction, and avoidance, and to understand how this seemingly protective part of the brain sabotages our best intentions. Its absence only further highlights the role it plays in creating the very obstacles that stand between you and the goals you’re trying to achieve. 1 1 closing statement Your Honor, esteemed jury, the crimes are clear. The basal ganglia stand first, guilty of trapping you in repetitive, unproductive habits, preventing any real change from taking place. Its hold over your routines has kept you in an endless loop, stuck in comfort and devoid of growth. Next, the ventral striatum has used dopamine as a tool of manipulation, drawing you into a cycle of instant gratification and quick rewards. It ensures that you always favor the momentary pleasure, abandoning your long-term goals in favor of fleeting satisfaction. And finally, the amygdala, too afraid to face its own trial, hides in the shadows, its exaggerated fear response sabotaging every step forward. It makes mountains out of molehills, convincing you that challenges are life-threatening dangers, forever keeping you in a state of fear and avoiding progress. Together, these three have conspired to thwart your success, controlling your actions and thoughts to ensure that you stay stuck. It’s time for them to face the consequences of their manipulation. 3. the scientifically sound checklist to build better resolutions 3. the scientifically sound checklist to build better resolutions a. neuroscience of habit formation a. neuroscience of habit formation feeding the brain’s obsession with automation feeding the brain’s obsession with automation Your brain, as it turns out, is lazy . But not in the “Netflix-binge-and-eat-hot-Cheetos” kind of way—it’s more like the efficient, robotic coworker who organizes everything into color-coded spreadsheets to save time. Your brain loves automation because thinking is exhausting. Every time you force it to consciously decide something—like whether you should floss before or after brushing—it has to burn precious energy. Habits, on the other hand, are the brain’s “set it and forget it” strategy. lazy loves automation Imagine your brain as the world’s busiest intern, drowning in tasks, sticky notes, and emails marked “URGENT!” It will automate literally anything it can to get some relief. That’s why you don’t have to think about how to tie your shoes or why your morning coffee routine feels as natural as breathing. Habits are your brain’s way of running on autopilot. anything But here’s the kicker: if you want to change a habit—like replacing “doom-scrolling TikTok” with “journaling your thoughts”—your brain’s like, “Ugh, that sounds like work.” And it’s right. Changing habits requires neuroplasticity , which is your brain’s ability to rewire itself. neuroplasticity micro-habits micro-habits Here’s the good news: your brain might be lazy, but it’s also a sucker for small wins. Enter micro-habits , the life hack for anyone who’s ever started a New Year’s resolution and given up by February. micro-habits Instead of saying, “I’m going to run a marathon this year!” micro-habits are like, “How about you just put on your sneakers today?” Small, almost laughably easy actions trick your brain into thinking, “Hey, this isn’t so bad.” This strategy works because it taps into your brain’s dopaminergic reward system . Dopamine—the feel-good neurotransmitter—gets released every time you achieve something, no matter how small. So, when you check off “drink one glass of water” on your to-do list, your brain rewards you as if you just closed a million-dollar deal. This creates a feedback loop: small action → dopamine hit → repeat the action → habit formed. dopaminergic reward system Starting with micro-habits also activates neuroplasticity. It’s like giving your brain a tiny, manageable dumbbell to lift instead of immediately trying to deadlift 400 pounds. Over time, these small actions snowball into full-blown habits. b. identity-based goals and neural pathways If micro-habits are the gateway drug to better habits, identity-based goals are the full-blown lifestyle change. Instead of focusing on what you want to do, this approach focuses on who you want to be. identity-based goals what who Let’s say your goal is to “work out more.” Meh. That’s vague, and your brain knows it. But if you frame it as “I’m someone who values fitness,” you’ve just created a self-reinforcing loop. Neuroscientific studies show that tying behavior to identity activates the default mode network (DMN) —a part of your brain responsible for self-reflection and personal narrative. 2 default mode network (DMN) 2 The DMN is basically the editor-in-chief of your life’s story. When you tell it, “Hey, I’m the kind of person who prioritizes health,” it starts aligning your actions to match that story. This isn’t just woo-woo psychology like your average feel-good Facebook personality—it’s backed by self-consistency theory . self-consistency theory Self-consistency theory, introduced by Prescott Lecky, is all about how people try to stay true to their self-image. Basically, we like our actions, beliefs, and how we see ourselves to match up. That’s why we might resist change or stick to certain habits—even if they’re not great for us—just because they feel “right” based on how we view ourselves. Self-consistency theory, introduced by Prescott Lecky, is all about how people try to stay true to their self-image. Basically, we like our actions, beliefs, and how we see ourselves to match up. That’s why we might resist change or stick to certain habits—even if they’re not great for us—just because they feel “right” based on how we view ourselves. So, if you identify as someone who “never skips leg day,” skipping leg day feels like an existential crisis. Your brain rebels against the inconsistency, making it easier to stick to the habit. Remember the prefrontal cortex, your brain’s responsible decision-maker? It loves identity-based goals because they give it a clear directive. Over time, the repeated behavior gets transferred to the basal ganglia , your brain’s habit center, making it feel automatic. basal ganglia For example, if you start saying, “I’m someone who writes every day,” and, you know, write every day , your prefrontal cortex will initially put in the effort to make that happen. write every day But after enough repetition, the basal ganglia takes over, and writing becomes second nature—like brushing your teeth or stalking your ex’s LinkedIn at 3 a.m. When you repeatedly act in accordance with your identity, the neural pathways related to that behavior become stronger. It’s like the famous quote from 鲁迅 ( Lǔ Xùn ): 鲁迅 Lǔ Xùn On this earth, there were no paths to begin with; paths are made by walking them. On this earth, there were no paths to begin with; paths are made by walking them. Think of identity-based goals like becoming a pop star. Beyoncé doesn’t just sing ; she is a singer, a performer. Her identity fuels her habits—rehearsing for hours, eating healthy, and consistently delivering Grammy-worthy performances. She doesn’t wake up and think, “Should I practice today?” It’s just who she is. sing is If you want to build lasting habits, you need to channel your inner Beyoncé. Start small, tie your actions to an identity, and let your brain’s lazy automation system do the rest. Sure, the process isn’t glamorous—it’s 66 days of grinding before you hit your stride. But eventually, you’ll be running on autopilot, crushing your goals, and wondering why you ever struggled in the first place. Now go forth and become the Beyoncé of whatever you’re trying to achieve. Your prefrontal cortex is rooting for you. c. routines and triggers Let’s talk about triggers , which are the equivalent of your brain’s Post-it notes. You know, those little yellow squares you stick on the fridge so you remember to buy milk—but instead, they remind you to order pizza for the third time this week. triggers In the habit world, triggers (or “cues” for those who like science words) are the starting pistol for your brain’s habit loop, which Charles Duhigg explains as cue → routine → reward. It’s the behavioral version of a Netflix autoplay—once the cue hits, your brain just rolls into the next episode without even asking you. cue → routine → reward. Think about it: why do you brush your teeth every morning? Is it because you deeply value oral hygiene? Please. It’s because the sight of your toothbrush sitting next to the sink triggers your autopilot, and suddenly you’re foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. That’s how powerful a trigger is—it saves you from having to consciously think, which, as we’ve established, is something your brain hates doing. triggers 3 Give it a visual cue, like gym clothes by the door, and boom—you’re more likely to hit the gym than hit snooze. It’s like Pavlov’s dog but for humans, except instead of salivating at a bell, you’re lacing up sneakers because your brain went, “Oh, right, exercise!” 3 But let’s not forget the real MVP: reward-based learning. Schultz et al. (1997) found that when your brain gets a reward—a hit of dopamine, the chemical equivalent of a high-five—it strengthens the neural circuits associated with the behavior. So, if you finish a workout and treat yourself to an overpriced green smoothie, your brain files that under “Good stuff, let’s do it again.” The cue gets stronger, the routine gets easier, and the reward keeps the loop spinning. reward-based learning. The trick is to design a system where your brain does the heavy lifting. Think of it like assembling IKEA furniture: it’ll take some setup, but once it’s built, it works like magic (or falls apart, depending on how much effort you put in). d. self-compassion Okay, so you’re cruising along, and then—BAM—you mess up. You miss a workout, binge-watch an entire season of The Office instead of working on that side hustle, or eat a family-size bag of chips at 1 a.m. because of reasons. The Office reasons. Cue the spiral of shame, again. Your brain starts hurling insults at you like a mean girl in a teen rom-com: “Ugh, you’re the worst. Why even bother?” spiral of shame, Here’s the thing: shame and guilt are terrible personal trainers. Neuroscience proves it. When you mess up, your amygdala —the emotional drama queen of your brain—lights up like a Christmas tree. This triggers stress responses that throw a wrench into your prefrontal cortex, the part of your brain responsible for decision-making and impulse control. You know, the part that might’ve said, “Hey, maybe don’t eat all those chips.” shame and guilt are terrible personal trainers. amygdala Chronic stress makes it harder for your brain to focus, plan, and, well, adult. It’s like trying to drive a car with a flat tire—you’re not getting anywhere, and you’re just making things worse. stress Kristin Neff’s research shows that being kind to yourself when you screw up isn’t just touchy-feely nonsense. 4 Self-compassion helps deactivate the stress response, giving your brain the mental equivalent of a deep breath. When you treat failure as a speed bump instead of a dead end, you’re way more likely to dust yourself off and keep going. 4 It’s just data, not the end of the world It’s just data, not the end of the world Here’s the deal: failure isn’t a character flaw; it’s feedback. Think of it like trying to cook something new. The first pancake is always a disaster, but that doesn’t mean you quit breakfast forever. It just means you adjust the heat, pour a little less batter, and try again. Carol Dweck’s growth mindset theory is all about this. 5 People who see failure as part of the learning process are like those annoying toddlers who keep asking “Why?” after every answer—they’re relentless in their pursuit of improvement. growth mindset theory 5 And guess what? Science loves those toddlers. Studies show that when you reframe failure as a stepping stone instead of a faceplant, your brain stays flexible and ready to adapt. 6 6 So the next time you bomb a habit, don’t go full self-destruction mode. Instead, channel your inner data analyst. Missed a workout? Ask why. Too tired? Okay, maybe it’s a scheduling issue. Skipped your morning meditation? Cool, maybe the cue needs tweaking. Treat your failures like plot twists in a Netflix drama—unexpected but necessary for character development. conclusion conclusion Now, if it’s two weeks in and you’re already failing, don’t start crying in your kombucha just yet. Change is hard, and yes, your brain isn’t exactly set up for it. Any attempt to break the comfort zone feels like an epic battle. But here’s the twist: you can rewire your brain —it’s not some Hollywood plotline, it’s actual science. you can rewire your brain Yes, the brain is lazy. It loves shortcuts. It’s essentially a Netflix binge-watching machine that keeps hitting "next episode" even when it’s 3 a.m. But here’s the hopeful part: with the right strategies , you can trick your brain into focusing on your goals. with the right strategies You’ll still have setbacks—your brain will still try to revert to its old ways, like that one friend who always suggests going to the bar when you’ve already decided you’re on a diet. But at least when you fail your resolutions again, you can blame your brain for it. But at least when you fail your resolutions again, you can blame your brain for it. Read the original post, "human sues brain for 2025 resolution sabotage," for more detailed footnotes and direct interaction with the author. Read the original post, " human sues brain for 2025 resolution sabotage ," for more detailed footnotes and direct interaction with the author. human sues brain for 2025 resolution sabotage
