The Anti-Resolution Movement — And Why I’m Still Writing Mine

I didn’t set out to write a blog about resolutions. I stumbled into it standing in line at the grocery store.

I’ve been thinking seriously about 2026. My business plan is complete. That part was easy—numbers, strategy, staffing, expansion. But my personal plan required something different. Reflection. Intention. Honesty. So I started talking to people I trust—my children, my spouse, close friends. Then, out of curiosity, I started asking strangers.

What I heard surprised me.

“I don’t make resolutions anymore.”
“It’s all a game.”
“It’s just marketing—gyms, apps, stuff you won’t use.”

There was something underneath those answers. Not confidence. Not clarity. Apathy. Weariness. Almost resignation.

I’ll be honest—it was unsettling. Not because I doubted my own direction, but because of how widespread this sentiment has become. Still, as of January 5, my resolutions for 2026 were finalized and firmly on the books.

That decision deserves explanation.

What I’m encountering feels bigger than personal preference. It feels cultural. Almost philosophical. A quiet anti-resolution movement.

If it is a movement, it isn’t organized. There are no hashtags, no meetings, no manifestos. Just millions of individuals quietly deciding that hope feels naïve, planning feels dangerous, and expectation feels like a setup.

This isn’t people giving up on life. It’s people giving up on narratives of transformation that no longer align with their lived experience.

We are living in a moment where time feels compressed, stability feels fragile, institutions feel unreliable, and the future feels less predictable than it did a generation ago. In that environment, long-range promises lose credibility. People aren’t rejecting growth itself—they are rejecting performative optimism—the kind that sounds inspiring, sells products, but collapses under the weight of real life.

Psychologically, this matters.

When someone says, “I don’t do resolutions anymore,” the real question isn’t about January rituals.

The real question is this:

Psychologists call this belief agency. Agency is the engine behind every plan, goal, discipline, prayer, and strategy. When agency erodes, people don’t just stop making resolutions—they stop imagining.

And imagination is not fantasy. It is rehearsal. It is the mind’s way of preparing the future. When people stop imagining, change becomes psychologically impossible long before it becomes practically impossible.

This is why the anti-resolution sentiment feels so heavy. It isn’t rebellion. It’s fatigue. People are tired of trying inside systems that feel stacked against effort. Tired of failing publicly. Tired of being told that discipline alone can overcome time, economics, biology, and complexity.

Avoiding resolutions becomes emotional self-preservation.

Arguing people back into resolutions is a losing battle. The resistance is not logical—it’s emotional and experiential.

The alternative is not abandoning resolutions, but redefining them.

Resolutions were never meant to be public declarations or moral tests. At their best, they are private experiments.

Not: “This year I will become someone else.”
But: “This year, I will test one belief about myself and see if it still holds.”

That kind of intention doesn’t invite shame. It invites curiosity. And curiosity—unlike motivation—does not burn out easily.

The irony is this: the people who reject resolutions most strongly often care deeply about meaning. They are not shallow. They are discerning. They are exhausted by hype and allergic to false promises.

Which means the anti-resolution movement is not the end of aspiration. It is a signal. A pause. A demand for honesty about how change actually happens in real human lives.

And paradoxically, that may be the most hopeful starting point of all.

Here’s what experience has taught me: too many resolutions is the same as none at all.

That insight was sharpened by The ONE Thing by Gary Keller. The core idea is simple but profound: in every area of life, there is one thing that—if done consistently—makes everything else easier or unnecessary. This principle is rooted in the Pareto Principle: the vital few outweigh the trivial many.

So instead of endless lists, I’ve limited my resolutions to four categories, with one primary commitment in each.

Faith. Family. Health. Business.

My faith resolution is singular:
Commit to at least one hour every day to spiritual development and education.

That hour may include reading, study, prayer, reflection, listening, or writing. Strengthening my faith is not optional or secondary. When faith is strong, clarity improves. Anxiety softens. Perspective returns. Everything else flows from that center.

My family resolution is this:
Devote time to meaningful conversation with my spouse every single day.

That means intentional check-ins in the morning, reconnecting during the day, and in the evening putting the phone away and being fully present—talking about life, work, challenges, and what matters most. Relationships don’t erode from lack of love; they erode from lack of attention.

My health resolution:
Devote the early morning hours every day to physical health and strength.

I walk three miles a day and work out for an hour. I’m adding a gym membership to increase strength training and anchoring all health activity to the morning so it never competes with the rest of the day. When health comes first, it doesn’t get negotiated away.

My business resolution is clear and measurable:
Double my income in 2026 across media, real estate, and consulting—by expanding people, not hours.

This is not about working more. It’s about hiring additional personnel and management so my direct involvement decreases while the organization grows. Scale creates freedom. Systems create sustainability.

This conversation is not about January. It’s about agency.

Opting out of intention does not protect us from disappointment—it guarantees drift. You may not control the economy, culture, or institutions around you. But you do control what you commit your attention to, what you practice daily, and what you allow to shape your thinking.

That is not motivational talk. That is psychological reality.

So write your resolutions. Write them thoughtfully. Write them narrowly. Write them honestly. Not because the world expects it—but because you do.

The life you want is not built by what you hear.
It is built by what you repeatedly choose to practice.

This is where coaching begins.

Not with hype. Not with slogans. But with helping people recover their sense of agency—by clarifying what actually matters, stripping away noise, and identifying the one disciplined action that restores momentum. Most people don’t fail because they lack desire. They fail because their attention is fragmented, their goals are inflated, and their environment is misaligned with what they say they want.

Coaching is alignment—between belief and behavior, intention and execution, who you are today and who you are becoming.

Thank you for reading this blog. I appreciate your continued support in raising awareness about the issues that impact our relationships, families, friendships, and the institutions and environments—political, social, and economic—in which we live and work. Please share this blog—and explore my other articles and videos—each one created to educate, empower, and uplift. Together, we can challenge the belief systems that hold us back and press forward into openness, love, consideration, and peace—opening doors of opportunity for all.

Subscribe today to The Power Is Now TV for insightful shows on real estate, business, and wealth-building. Become a member of EricFrazier.com to access exclusive business and personal financial consulting resources.

Eric Lawrence Frazier, MBA
Your trusted advisor in business and wealth
www.ericfrazier.com | www.ericfrazieruk.com
NMLS #451807 | CA DRE #01143484
Schedule a consultation: https://calendly.com/ericfrazier/real-estate-mortgage-consultation-clients