Why You Should Abandon Your January Resolutions

And embrace what I call 'April Theory.'

By

Kristina Wright

 
Published April 16, 2026
Anna Godeassi

By the first week of January, I usually have a fresh notebook page filled with good intentions: purge a decade’s worth of clothes from my closet, finish the novel that’s languishing on my hard drive, start a regular yoga practice — finally. Setting my intentions in ink is supposed to motivate me and give me the confidence to move forward. But within weeks, my motivation begins to feel as frozen as the ground.

This winter was especially hard to slog through. I wasn’t trying to run a marathon or launch a startup. I just set simple goals to do my usual things well — cook good dinners, keep up with work deadlines and revisit some of the hobbies I set aside during the mad holiday rush.

Instead of these simple goals, most afternoons were like wading through molasses, with tasks undone.

We stayed indoors most of the day, and the ongoing joke between my husband and me was to look at each other and say, “How did it get to be midnight already?” when it was really no later than 7 p.m. Even small things — cleaning out a drawer, answering lingering emails — took more effort than they should have.

And I’m not alone. Research from Baylor College of Medicine has found that 25 percent of people stick with their New Year’s resolutions beyond 30 days and less than 10 percent ultimately achieve them. We tend to blame ourselves — a lack of discipline, willpower and grit. But what if part of the problem is simply poor timing?

January Isn’t Designed for Reinvention

Seasonal shifts affect us more than we like to admit. Reduced daylight in winter disrupts circadian rhythms, the internal clocks that regulate sleep, mood and energy. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, decreased sunlight can contribute to seasonal affective disorder (SAD), a type of depression characterized by low energy, difficulty concentrating, and increased sleep. Even those of us without clinical SAD often experience milder winter blues — sluggishness, carb cravings and a strong preference for hibernation over hyper-productivity.

There’s biology behind that urge to hibernate. Shorter days increase the production of melatonin, the hormone that regulates sleep. Less sunlight also influences serotonin, a neurotransmitter associated with mood and motivation. In practical terms, it’s harder to feel energized about your ambitious new gym routine when your brain is quietly nudging you toward the couch.

Add to that the social whiplash of the holidays. December is a blur of gatherings, travel, indulgence, and disrupted routines. Come January, we’re physically and mentally depleted, yet we seek transformation. No wonder our goals falter. Which is why I’ve started embracing April Theory — the idea that spring, not January, is the season for real beginnings.

It Makes Sense to Start When Nature Starts

There’s something almost embarrassingly obvious about it. In spring, the light shifts. Even before the temperature fully cooperates, the days stretch longer. Exposure to natural light helps recalibrate circadian rhythms and can boost serotonin levels, improving mood and alertness. Studies have found that people perform better on creative problem-solving tasks on sunny days compared to cloudy ones. Brighter light, the researchers suggested, promotes cognitive flexibility — the kind of mental state that makes new ideas and new habits feel possible.

I feel this shift viscerally. In winter, I can barely drag myself out of bed because it’s so cold and dreary. In spring, my mood is lighter just hearing the birds in the morning. I want to open the windows. I want to go for a walk after dinner. I start noticing projects around the house that suddenly seem manageable instead of overwhelming. There’s a reason it’s called “spring cleaning” and not “winter cleaning.”

There’s evolutionary logic here, too. Humans historically aligned activity levels with seasons. Winter was a time of conservation and spring signaled planting and preparation. Even in our climate-controlled, artificially lit modern lives, those rhythms linger. Warmer temperatures and longer days naturally increase physical activity levels. When it’s 65 degrees and sunny, a walk feels like a gift. When it’s 28 and spitting sleet, it feels like punishment.

In years past, I kept trying to force a January version of myself — the brisk, efficient woman in a new planner — into existence. Instead, I was the weary realist who wanted hot soup and early bedtimes. Then I started to wonder: What if I stopped fighting the season?

Same Goals, Just Shifted

April Theory is about aligning my goals with my energy. Instead of declaring sweeping resolutions on January 1, I use the first quarter of the year as a quiet incubation period. I jot down ideas without pressure. I notice what I’m craving — more flexibility? more creativity? less clutter? I let them simmer.

Then, when spring arrives, I’m ready to GO.

There’s psychological momentum in visible growth. When trees bud and grass greens, progress feels tangible. Behavioral scientists talk about “fresh start effects,” the idea that temporal landmarks — birthdays, Mondays, new months — motivate change. Spring offers a particularly powerful landmark that’s both symbolic and sensory. You can see and feel the transition.

Of course, not everyone lives in a climate with dramatic seasonal shifts. And some people thrive when the calendar flips to a new year. But for those of us who spend winter just trying to keep the wheels on, April can feel like a literal breath of fresh air.

As the days lengthen and the air warms, I find myself reaching for that notebook again. The goals feel more possible now. I want to clear out the closets because open windows make the clutter feel oppressive rather than comforting. I want to write more because ideas seem to thaw along with the soil. I want to move my body because it feels good in the light.

From now on, I’m setting my goals in the season that was built for beginnings.

Kristina Wright has written for a variety of publications, including the Washington Post, Business Insider, The Girlfriend, Narratively and USA Today. She is a regular contributor at Optimism and BookBub, and she writes a monthly column for the Washington Independent Review of Books. Kristina lives in the suburbs of Richmond, Virginia, with her husband, two teenage sons, two Goldendoodles and a ginger cat.