This Year Choose a Theme, Not a Resolution

If you’ve ever had a New Year’s resolution die somewhere around January 12th, and then spent the rest of the year with that familiar “cool cool, I’ve already blown it” feeling hovering in the background… same. And if you’re reading this with a half-dead resolution quietly haunting you, you’re in the right place.

I also want to start with a disclaimer, because I’m not here to dunk on goals.

Goals have a place. They matter. They can be genuinely life-saving when you’re trying to heal, rebuild, or get through a hard season. In therapy, especially, SMART goals can be incredibly grounding. They turn “I feel stuck” into something you can actually hold, measure, and move through.

But when it comes to New Year’s resolutions, I’ve come to believe something different.

Through a series of life experiences (and a lifetime of being a classic “I’ll start Monday” person), I’ve become convinced that themes are more powerful than traditional New Year’s resolutions. They’re more human. More forgiving. More values-driven. And, ironically, more likely to change your life.

So what do I actually mean by a “theme”?

When I say theme, I don’t mean a vibe. I don’t mean a Pinterest board. I don’t mean “hot girl winter” (although, respect). And I definitely don’t mean a word you pick because it looks nice in a notebook.

A theme is closer to a value you’re choosing to live by, on purpose, for a period of time.

It’s identity-level. It’s the thing underneath your behaviour that quietly shapes how you move through the world. A resolution tends to be about an outcome. A theme is about alignment—and it pulls you toward deeper questions like:

Who do I want to be?
What do I want to stand for?
What do I want to return to when I’m stressed, tired, reactive, or just drifting?
And a big one: who are you doing this for?

Because most of the time, the “real” reason we want to change isn’t actually “so I can be better at being better.” It’s so we can show up with more capacity, more patience, more steadiness—for the people around us and the life we actually care about.

Quick clarification: a theme isn’t a fuzzy vibe or an excuse to do nothing. It’s a filter for decisions. It doesn’t replace action—it guides it. It’s the thing you come back to at those nexus points when you’re tired, stressed, or about to default to autopilot.

With that in mind, here’s what I want to explore in this piece:

Resolutions are brittle. When you “break” them, it’s easy to feel like the whole thing is broken—and to quietly give up.
Resolutions often miss the human part. They can be rigid in a world that’s messy, and they’re often framed as self-improvement in a vacuum instead of who we are in relationship with other people.
Themes build a way of living, not a checklist. They create habits and identities that stick, because they’re anchored to values and a deeper why.

And underneath all of it: themes act like a compass at the exact moments you need one.

When resolutions break, they’re broken

Resolutions tend to work like glass.

They’re clear. They’re measurable. They’re satisfying to look at.

And when they crack, they shatter.

Let’s say your New Year’s resolution is: “I’m going to read one book every month.” That sounds healthy. Reasonable, even. But January gets busy. You fall behind. Now it’s February 3rd and you’re not sure whether to push through, restart, or quietly pretend the whole resolution never existed.

That’s the trap: a lot of resolutions are built on a fragile kind of motivation. Once you “fail,” the story becomes: “Well… guess I’m not that person.” And the resolution doesn’t just pause. It dies.

Now compare that to a theme: “Read more.”

“Read more” isn’t pass/fail. It doesn’t care what date it is. It doesn’t collapse because you had a chaotic week. It shows up at a nexus point and gives you a nudge: Do I read a bit tonight, or do I scroll?

That’s sustainable. That’s something you can return to again and again. Themes don’t work like glass. Themes work like a compass.

The “what next?” trap: when resolutions outrun your why

Another problem with resolutions is that they can create a “what next?” mentality.

We set a target. We chase it. We hit it (or we don’t). And either way, we often end up right back at the same question: Okay… now what?

The issue isn’t the resolution itself. The issue is that we don’t always ask why we want it.

A theme is basically a why. It’s a direction rooted in values. It’s an identity-level statement about how you want to live. A resolution, on the other hand, can be short-sighted. And if your resolution doesn’t match your why, you can end up doing this weird thing where you hit it… and feel emptier than you expected. Or you miss it… and still feel empty, because the resolution was never connected to what you actually needed.

There’s also a cultural version of this that I can’t unsee: that social media trend where someone finally gets the thing they’ve been obsessing over and then posts, “Almost forgot this was the whole point.” It’s funny, but it’s also painfully accurate. It’s what happens when you get so locked into the chase that you forget why you started chasing in the first place.

I’ve lived this. For me, it was professional sport.

I was incredibly resolution-driven. First it was making the regional team. Then county. Then national. Then getting a professional contract. For years it was just ladder after ladder: set the resolution, hit it, set the next one.

And then I got to the edge of the thing I’d been chasing—the contract, the big team, the moment that was supposed to feel like arrival—and that’s when the “why” hit me like a ton of bricks:

Why am I here? Why am I doing this?

I’d gotten so caught up in the pursuit that I hadn’t stopped to notice what I actually loved about rugby. And it wasn’t excellence. It wasn’t status. It wasn’t proving something. It was the people. The community. The camaraderie. The feeling of being part of something.

That doesn’t mean excellence can’t be someone’s driver. It just wasn’t mine. And I’d accidentally built a life around resolutions that weren’t connected to my real reason for being there.

That’s the emptiness in the “what next?” trap: if your resolutions aren’t anchored to a deeper why, you can spend years chasing the next rung on the ladder… only to find the ladder was leaning against the wrong wall.

Themes protect you from that. Because themes don’t just ask, “What do I want to achieve?” They ask, “What do I want this to mean?” and, “Who do I want to become while I’m doing it?”

Nexus points: the real moments where change happens

This is where themes start to feel wildly practical.

I think we all have nexus points in our lives—moments where you choose a direction.

Sometimes they’re huge. Am I going to university or not? Do I leave this relationship? Do I take the job?
But most nexus points are small. Ordinary. Daily. Salad or burger. Go for a walk or scroll. Read a few pages or open Instagram. Reach out to a friend or isolate. Have the hard conversation or avoid it again.

Now look at the difference between these two approaches:

A rigid resolution says: “I’m going to track my nutrition perfectly and eat X healthy meals per week.”
A theme says: “I want to eat healthier this year.”

When you live under a rigid resolution, a single meal can feel high-stakes. You’ve either stayed “on track” or you’ve fallen off it. But when you live under a theme, each nexus point becomes simpler and more human. You walk into a restaurant and think: “What choice aligns with my theme today?” That might be the salad. It might be the burger and a walk later. The point is you’re practicing the identity, not chasing perfection.

Themes turn change into something you can do one decision at a time, without needing to be flawless.

And honestly, when I think about nexus points for too long, it’s incredibly humbling. You are where you are right now because of an infinitely large number of nexus points—some you had control over, infinitely more you didn’t—leading you to right here, right now. All the things that had to align for your parents, grandparents, GREAT grandparents to meet so you could even exist is mind-boggling on its own.

It’s also weirdly powerful, because it highlights the level of control we do have—especially when we’re intentional about our actions, guided by a theme.

A compass in the Journey of life.

Think of your life as a never-ending path you’re walking down. It’s an easy metaphor because you can probably picture it instantly.

Every time you’re given a choice, the path branches. Sometimes it’s two options, sometimes it feels like a hundred. And here’s the sneaky part: the moment you step onto one branch, you don’t just make a choice — you open up a whole new set of possibilities that only exist on that path. Different people, different routines, different outcomes, different you.

That’s basically what I mean by a nexus point: those little forks in the road, big or small, where your life quietly turns.

What a theme does is give you a compass at those forks.

You don’t need the compass when the trail is obvious. You need it when you’re tired, stressed, bored, reactive, or drifting — when you’re standing at a branch and you honestly could go either way. In that moment, the theme is the thing you check. It helps you ask, which direction actually makes sense for me? which path aligns with who I’m trying to be? who am I doing this for?

And the best part is: there isn’t one perfect route.

Themes are kind of “unreachable” in a good way — you don’t arrive at “Kindness” the way you arrive at a finish line. You just keep walking toward it. There are a thousand routes that move you in the right direction, and if you stray, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you’re on a different branch for a bit. There are always more turns ahead, and always a way to reorient.

And just like with a real path, after you’ve chosen the right direction enough times, parts of it become familiar. You start making more decisions automatically. What used to feel like a conscious fork in the road becomes your default route. That’s how themes turn into habits.

Want to read more about choices, and they’re paradox’s? read our blog on FOMO Is Ruining Your Life

Okay… I have a theme. Now what?

Alright. Great. You’ve picked a theme. You’ve not picked a resolution. So how do you actually implement this… and make sure it doesn’t become another forgotten fad sitting beside your dusty treadmill-turned-drying-rack, your smoothie maker, and your budget Margaritaville?

This is the part where themes either become quietly powerful… or quietly disappear.

The good news: the whole point of themes is that they’re broad, flexible, and hard to “fail.” They’re meant to guide you, not grade you. But you still need a way to keep the theme alive in your day-to-day, so it shows up at those nexus points when you actually need it.

Make it visible (because reminders beat willpower)

Themes don’t need discipline as much as they need reminders. If your theme is a compass, it’s not helpful if it’s buried in the glovebox.

So put it somewhere you’ll bump into it. Write it at the top of your journal (if you journal). Make it your phone background. Stick it on a post-it on the fridge, bathroom mirror, or laptop. Put it somewhere you see it when you’re about to default into your usual patterns.

And yes—some people tattoo themes on themselves. Please don’t do this on my advice.

These subtle cues matter because they create tiny moments of clarity. You see the word and it pulls you back into the direction you chose—right when you’re about to autopilot.

Habit stacking (a simple way to anchor the theme in real life)

One practical strategy is habit stacking: attaching a new habit to something you already do reliably.

I’m not going to go into huge depth on this one because there’s already so much written about it and probably better than I could. If you want to go down that rabbit hole, find a couple solid explainers and drop them into your reading list. And if you really want to build habits, Atomic Habits is a good (albeit a little repetitive) read.

(Insert links to habit stacking pages here.)

Use reflection — the underrated force multiplier

This is the teacher in me coming out, but the research is pretty clear: reflection is one of our strongest tools in reinforcing learning and learned behaviour. It’s also always the hardest thing to get students to see value in. Everyone wants the action. Nobody wants the reflection. But trust me—reflection is the glue.

If themes are about making better choices at nexus points, reflection is how you start to notice the nexus points you keep missing, learn your patterns, get clearer on your why, and slowly turn conscious effort into unconscious habit.

What does that look like in this context? It can be simple. Keep a log (notes app is fine). Track the conscious choices you made—the nexus points you faced and how they did or didn’t align with your theme. Also keep track of the unconscious choices you made.

Over time, hopefully your list of conscious “I chose my theme” moments shrinks and the unconscious ones grow. Or maybe it becomes so unconscious you don’t even clock them as nexus points anymore.

Imagine that. The dream.

And even if it doesn’t happen that cleanly, reflection still gives you something resolutions rarely give you: time to understand your actions, and even your whys, while you’re changing.

So what do you do with this?

If you’re reading this around New Year’s, here’s my invitation:

Pick one or two themes for the year.

Not ten. Not a spreadsheet. Not a brand-new personality. Just a couple of words you want to live closer to.

If you’re struggling to find a theme, here are a few that feel like good places to start: curiosity over condemnation (especially with other people), kindness (to others and also to yourself), selflessness, consistency (not intensity), connection, healthier, craft (getting better at what you do), courage (the quiet kind).

Then, when you hit a nexus point (big or small), ask:

What choice fits my theme today? Who am I doing this for?

That’s it.

Because the real power of themes is that they don’t demand perfection. They demand return. And returning, again and again, is how a person actually changes.

References, rabbit holes, and influences (if you want them)

If you’re the kind of person who likes a few signposts (or you want to go full nerd on this), here are the bits that influenced this whole “themes as a compass” idea and a couple practical tools for implementation.

Core inspiration

• CGP Grey — “Your Theme” (Yearly Themes video). This is the video that really nails the “theme as direction” idea in a way that’s simple and sticky. YouTube

• James Clear — Atomic Habits. Useful for anyone who wants the practical mechanics of habit change. I still think it’s a touch repetitive, but it’s repetitive in the way drills are repetitive: it works. James Clear

Habit stacking (if you want to implement themes without turning it into a spreadsheet)

Habit stacking is basically: attach a new habit to an existing habit you already do consistently—so the old habit becomes the cue for the new one.

Two solid explainers:

• James Clear’s breakdown of habit stacking (simple, clear, very usable). James Clear

• Cleveland Clinic’s explanation (plain-English, practical, and grounded). Cleveland Clinic

Reflection / metacognition (if you want the nerdy underpinning for the “logging” part)

If you’re curious why reflection is so effective for behaviour change and learning, this is the deeper layer:

• MIT Teaching + Learning Lab on metacognition (what it is and why it matters). Teaching + Learning Lab

• Education Endowment Foundation guidance on metacognition and self-regulated learning (practical, evidence-informed). EEF+1

Influences

The Midnight Library (Matt Haig)

This book is basically a narrative version of the “branches in the path” idea: different choices, different lives, and that haunting sense that there are a thousand possible versions of you living down adjacent hallways. It’s not the same argument as themes, but it definitely lives in the same mental neighbourhood. Goodreads

The Many-Worlds interpretation (quantum mechanics)

This is the physics-flavoured cousin of the “branching paths” metaphor. Many-Worlds (in very broad strokes) treats quantum measurement as creating branching outcomes—parallel “worlds” rather than one single collapsed result. I’m not claiming your Tuesday night decision to go for a walk literally spawns a universe (although that’s a fun thought). I’m saying the metaphor is useful: our lives do branch, and themes can help you orient at the fork. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy