This year I realized something counterintuitive about Black Friday, and—strangely—it helped me understand New Year’s resolutions from a completely new angle. It also helped me better explain the best decision I made last year.
The Black Friday story
This year, starting around late October, I fell into this pattern: whenever I wanted to buy something non-essential, I would tell myself: “I’ll wait for Black Friday. It’ll be on sale. I’ll come back and buy it.”
So I postponed. A bunch of purchases I would’ve made during the month got kicked into “future me” territory.
Then Black Friday arrived… and I didn’t go to the stores. Because going to the stores on Black Friday is my personal nightmare.
The only thing I ended up buying this year was a microphone for my videos and podcast. Online. On Amazon.
And here’s the funny part: it wasn’t even one of the things I had postponed.
All the items I delayed? I didn’t buy a single one of them.
And honestly, I don’t even remember half of them.
That got me thinking.
Yes, Black Friday is a huge sales day. I’m not arguing with the numbers.
But how much revenue is actually lost before Black Friday because people like me stop buying things?
And of that postponed spending, how much truly ends up happening on Black Friday?
If Black Friday didn’t exist, wouldn’t all that buying be spread out throughout the month?
In my case, absolutely.
The economy would have seen a lot more of my money if Black Friday never existed. There would have been many more purchases that never would’ve been delayed.
And that’s when the bigger realization hit me.
Black Friday and New Year’s resolutions have something in common
Come October, November, December, many of us do the same thing—not with purchases, but with our goals.
We say:
“I’ll start on January 1st.”
Or if we miss January 1st, we tell ourselves we’ll start on our birthday. Or at the beginning of the school year. Or after the holidays. There is always some magical date coming up.
But what we’re actually practicing for three months leading up to January 1st is not discipline.
It’s not preparation.
It’s waiting.
We rehearse postponement.
We teach our brain a very specific meta-lesson:
When something is important, the first thing we do is look for a big future date to start.
This is what I call the Meta Lesson.
There’s the verbal lesson—
“I’m serious about this goal; I’ll start on January 1st.”
And then there’s the non-verbal lesson—
“I don’t start on important changes. I find a reason to postpone it.”
So when January 1st arrives, we go all-in for two or three weeks… and then our resolutions fade away.
Is this a willpower problem? Or is it because we spent three months practicing the habit of waiting?
Maybe we simply became really good at waiting—and not very good at doing.
My best decision of last year
My best decision last year was incredibly simple:
I decided not to wait.
I wanted to start a daily morning walk. As a new mom, I needed something realistic—movement I could do anywhere, fresh air, some alone time, something that supported my mental health without requiring a whole production.
So instead of saying “I’ll start on January 1st,” I picked a completely random day in December.
A Wednesday, probably. I honestly don’t remember, and that was intentional.
I didn’t write it down.
I didn’t note the date in my journal.
I didn’t track it in an app.
I didn’t want the pressure of a symbolic milestone.
I just started. Quietly. Mundanely. Imperfectly.
Why New Year’s resolutions never worked for me
Every New Year’s resolution I’d ever made failed. So why would I repeat the strategy that never worked?
There’s also this whole “new year, new me” pressure.
Tell me if you can relate:
You pick one habit you want to start. But on January 1st, you wake up and suddenly feel like that’s not enough. You should redo your morning routine, overhaul your finances, become a fitness enthusiast, start meditating, declutter your house, fix your relationships, and become the best version of yourself—by Monday.
That perfectionism is impossible to maintain.
And then everything collapses.
Starting on a random day in December removed all of that pressure.
It wasn’t “New Year, New Me.”
It was Same Me, Same Life, Single Change.
Just the morning walk.
Just waking up early and going outside.
Everything else in my life remained exactly the same.
Choosing the hardest time of year on purpose
I also deliberately chose the hardest season to start: December and January in Canada.
My thinking was:
If I can do it when it’s cold, dark, and miserable, then I’ll have no excuse when it’s warm and sunny.
And that hypothesis proved true.
This past summer, whenever I felt lazy, I reminded myself:
“You walked after an ice storm.”
“You walked during a snowstorm.”
“You walked when it was –27°C.”
“You wore ice spikes on your shoes.”
So what’s your excuse now?
When it’s beautiful? When the birds are literally cheering you on?
Starting in the hardest season made the easier seasons… actually easy.
The most consistent year of my life
It ended up being the most consistent year I’ve ever had with any exercise routine.
My phone screenshots (when I remembered to bring it) prove this consistency.
And one of the biggest reasons wasn’t motivation or discipline.
It was the start date.
Starting on a random December day meant:
- No perfectionism.
- No pressure.
- No narrative about reinventing myself.
- No big resolution energy.
Just a small, quiet action repeated daily.
And if I ever missed a day, it wasn’t catastrophic.
If you start on a random day, you can restart on a random day.
No guilt. No shame. No dramatic declarations.
Rethinking the “Perfect Start” myth
By the time I made this change, I was tired—truly tired—of the self-help narrative that insists you need a perfect start:
A perfect date.
A perfect notebook.
A perfect productivity app.
A perfect program.
A perfect coach.
A perfect environment.
A perfect mindset.
What this teaches your brain is:
“Before I start, I need something else.”
And I wanted to train a different neurological pathway:
It’s okay to start now—on an imperfect day, in imperfect circumstances, with imperfect tools.
The parenting analogy
This whole idea reminds me of parenting.
You’re always teaching two lessons at the same time:
- The verbal lesson – what you say.
- The meta lesson – what you actually do.
You may tell your child wise things when you are frustrated, but if you slam doors and walk away shortly after because they didn’t listen, the meta lesson becomes:
“When we’re upset, we slam doors and walk away.”
In my observation, kids learn the meta lesson far more than the verbal one.
With goals, your brain is the child.
Every time you postpone something important, you’re teaching:
“When something matters, we wait.”
And that becomes your default.
The one time waiting IS good
Waiting can be useful. I’m a huge fan of using backlog as a wait-and-reveal-its-true-value tool for filtering impulse ideas through. I’ve talked about it in this post.
Some ideas should sit for a couple of weeks, because quality is a function of time.
But New Year’s resolutions are different.
By the time you pick a January 1st habit, you’ve probably been thinking about it since October. You’ve already passed the “test of time.” Waiting longer isn’t helping.
What’s so special about January 1st?
Really—what’s the difference between January 1st and December 12th or January 15th?
You still have:
The same job
The same family
The same responsibilities
The same weather (give or take)
The same life
January 1st is just a date.
A made-up milestone.
The moment you interrupt the waiting pattern, you send your brain a new message:
When something is important, we act—imperfectly, but soon.
And repetition makes this true.
Not just on New Year’s.
Every day.
My favourite book about procrastination
Let me tell you about one of my favourite books:
Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov. A Russian classic.
It is a masterclass on procrastination—not the messy kind, but the sophisticated, intellectual kind. The kind where you can produce brilliant, airtight explanations for why not to do something today.
Oblomov’s excuses are so smart and so reasonable that you catch yourself nodding along.
And then he repeats the pattern the next day with a brand-new explanation.
He is contrasted with a German friend—less intellectual, more action-oriented. And the book compares the two lives.
If you’re an overthinker, a chronic planner, a perfectionist, or someone who can design the perfect system but struggles to begin—you will see yourself in this book. It’s uncomfortable in the best way.
My proposal
Let’s bring this back to New Year’s resolutions.
Here is my invitation:
Don’t wait.
Pick one thing.
Just one thing you were planning to start on January 1st.
And start it on a random day.
Preferably today.
Okay, fine… tomorrow morning works too.
Why wait to benefit from something good?
And please—don’t make an announcement.
Don’t write it in your calendar.
Don’t post it on social media.
Just do the first small step, quietly, imperfectly.
What are you better at?
You’re not reinventing your life.
You’re not becoming a new person.
You’re just adding one small activity.
Same you. Same life. One tiny change.
You don’t need the perfect gear, date, app, notebook, or mindset.
You just need to start.
Every day, you’re getting better at something.
The only question is:
What are you better at? Waiting? Or doing?
