Reclaiming the Resolution: A Trauma-Informed Guide to Setting Gentle Intentions for the New Year

Alright, let’s do this. Coffee’s hot, and my chair is stupidly comfortable, anddd I’m wearing my favorite pair of slipper socks. Welcome. You’re in good company.

So, it’s January. Again. And scrolling through your feeds probably feels like being stuck in a motivational speaker’s hostage video. Everyone’s screaming about “NEW YEAR, NEW YOU!” while photos of kale and running shoes flash ominously in the background. And you? You might feel two things at once:

First, that quiet, hopeful desire. The one that whispers, “Maybe this year could be… different. Softer. Lighter. Better.”

And right on its heels, the visceral ache. The full-body clench. The mental soundtrack that sounds less like inspiring music and more like the shrill beep of a countdown clock strapped to your chest.

“You have 365 days to get your shit together. Starting now... Why haven’t you started?!”

If the thought of a New Year’s resolution makes you feel more dread than excitement, let me be absolutely clear: you are not unmotivated. You might be wisely, intuitively protecting yourself from a cycle that has hurt you before. Your nervous system isn’t lazy; it’s literate. You've read this book and you know how it ends.

Why Your Brain Hates Resolutions (And It’s Not Your Fault)

Let’s break down why the classic resolution is often a one-way ticket to Shamesville for those of us with trauma histories, ADHD, or a past that includes high-demand religion or messy family shit.

1. The All-or-Nothing Trap.

Your brain, having survived some tough stuff, is a master of binary thinking. It’s a brilliant survival tool, but it’s a shitty life coach. Resolutions plug directly into this circuitry. “Work out every day” becomes, “I missed one day, I can't believe I failed again, the whole plan is ruined, I’ll just cancel my membership and rewatch Stranger Things,” by January 3rd.

It’s not a lack of willpower; it’s a neurological glitch where one cookie erases the entire concept of moderation.

2. Your Nervous System Is Not a Productivity App.

When you set a goal from a place of “should” or “I have to fix myself,” what are you actually doing? You’re tapping on the glass of your own internal panic room. For the trauma brain, a “goal” can register as a threat. Because in the past, failing to meet a standard often was threatening. Threatening to your safety, your belonging, your worth. So your body, trying to help, kicks into fight/flight (hello, anxiety and rage-cleaning!) or just nopes the fuck out into freeze/shutdown (cue the paralysis-scrolling). This isn’t you being “lazy.” This is biology.

You can’t philosophize your way out of a dorsal vagal collapse.

3. Shame is the Default Setting.

For the ADHD brain wired for rejection-sensitive dysphoria, the religious trauma survivor marinated in “not good enough,” or anyone whose childhood was a masterclass in conditional love… shame isn’t an emotion you feel. It’s the operating system. A failed resolution isn’t a neutral data point; it’s a blinking, neon-lit CONFIRMATION of your deepest fear: that you are, at your core, incapable. The resolution didn’t fail. You are a failure.

See how that works? It’s a brutal, self-reinforcing hell-loop.

4. Self-Abandonment Sabotage.

This one’s for my friends who had to contort themselves to fit into a family or faith system. Your resolutions have often been about meeting external expectations. Be thinner. Be quieter. Be more productive. Be more devout. Be less you. So the act of making a resolution can inherently feel like another act of self-abandonment.

You’re asking your already-exiled inner self to trust a plan that was never made for their benefit. No wonder they rebel.

How it feels drowning under the pressure of living up to a version of yourself that never even existed

The Pivot: Swap the Rigid Railroad Tracks for a Guiding Star

So, fuck the resolution. Seriously. Let’s chuck it in the Fuck-It Bucket and do something different. Instead, let’s talk about creating Trauma-Informed Intentions.

A Resolution is an external, rigid outcome.

“Lose 20 lbs,”

“Stop being anxious,”

“Read 50 books.”

It’s a straitjacket with delusions of grandeur.

A Trauma-Informed Intention is an internal, flexible sense of direction. It’s rooted in a value or a felt sense.

“Treat my body with more kindness,”

“Explore what makes me feel grounded,”

“Nourish my curiosity.”

Think of it this way: a resolution is a set of rigid train tracks. One misstep, you’re derailed and end up dead in a ditch. An intention is a guiding star. You can stumble, take a detour through a weird forest, sit down and cry for a while, and still look up and see the goddamn star. It’s still there. You haven’t ruined anything.

Crafting Your Kind-AF, Non-Shamey Intention: A No-BS Guide

Step 1: Check-In, Not Check-Off.
Forget what you should want. Grab your coffee (or whatever you non-caffeine-addicts drink). Get quiet for a second. Ask yourself, with genuine curiosity:

“What does a part of me deeply need more of or less of to feel just 5% safer, more connected, or more authentic?”

Don’t brainstorm tasks. Explore feelings. Less dread? More spaciousness? Less ache in your shoulders? More moments of joy and connection?

Step 2: Connect It to a Core Value.
What’s the deeper why? Strip away the cultural bullshit.

• Instead of “Go to the gym,” the value might be Vitality or Consistency.

• Instead of “Stop people-pleasing,” the value might be Authenticity or Integrity.

Your intention becomes:

“I intend to listen to my body’s need for movement in ways that feel enlivening, not punishing.”

“I intend to practice spotting where I shrink myself to keep the peace.”

Step 3: Make It Process-Oriented. Focus on the Practice, Not the Prize.
The goal is the thing you do, not the outcome you get.

• For the Hypervigilant (CPTSD): “My intention is to notice one moment of safety in my body each day. Even if it’s just the feeling of my ass in this chair. That’s it.”

• For Reclaiming Autonomy (Religious Trauma): “My intention is to quietly explore what I actually believe about [money/sex/purpose] this month, with zero pressure to come to a conclusion.”

• For the ADHD Brain: “My intention is to use this January motivation surge to create two simple systems that Future-Me will thank me for. (e.g., a bullet-proof morning meds routine, a ‘don’t lose these’ tray by the door). The surge will pass. The systems will remain.”

• For Relationship Warriors: “My intention is to practice pausing and breathing before I respond in a charged conversation. Not to fix it. Just to not instantly react.”

How to Not Accidentally Weaponize Your Intention (Compassionate Accountability)

1. The “When/Then” Plan.
You will forget. You will get distracted. Plan for it now, with kindness and patience.
“When I inevitably miss a week of my grounding practice, then I will speak to myself like I would to my best friend who’s struggling: ‘Hey, rough week? No big deal. Wanna try again tomorrow?’”

2. Focus on the Feeling, Not the Fucking Checkbox.
The metric is not “Did I do it?” It’s “How did doing it (or not doing it) make me FEEL?”
Did that pause in the argument make you feel more regulated or more stifled? Did exploring that belief feel freeing or terrifying? The feeling is the data. Adjust your course based on that.

3. Monthly Reflection, Not Daily Judgment.
Forget daily tracking. It’s a shame incubator. Once a month, maybe with your coffee, ask: “How is this intention serving me? Does it need to be tweaked, softened, or celebrated?” Your intention works for YOU. Not the other way around.

The Gift of a Gentle Beginning

This whole approach is an act of reclamation. You are reclaiming your right to define growth on your own terms, at your own pace, with your own well-being as the only metric that fucking matters.

You are not a problem to be solved. You are a silly little human meant to be experienced.

So this year, let your grand intention be this: to turn down the volume of your inner critic, and turn up the voice of your inner ally. That voice might be quiet as hell right now. It might just be a faint whisper that says, “This is too hard,” or “I’m tired.” Start there. That’s your ally. It’s telling you the truth.

Listening to that? Nurturing that? That’s the most profound fucking rebirth there is.

Cheers to 2026 and all the healing this year has in store!

If you’re realizing that the voice of shame, trauma, or old patterns is still the loudest one in the room, and you’re tired of trying to drown it out alone, therapy can be a space where we strengthen that compassionate inner ally together. It’s what I do. If you’re ready to build a year that feels genuinely yours, reach out and let’s talk. The first step is just seeing if we’re a good fit. No rigid commitments required.