Every January we make promises dressed up as resolutions.
Some are sincere. Many are hopeful. Most are quietly fragile.

We promise ourselves we’ll finally do the thing we’ve been putting off. That this year will be different. That we’ll prioritise our wellbeing, our mental health, our needs. And often, even as we make the promise, there’s a small, knowing part of us that isn’t entirely convinced.

Gyms are busiest in January and emptier by spring. Not because people are lazy, but because motivation alone rarely survives contact with real life. Fatigue returns. Old patterns reassert themselves. Responsibilities don’t pause simply because the calendar has turned.

This isn’t a blog about willpower or discipline. Many of us are deeply tired of being told that if we really wanted something, we’d just try harder. Most people already try very hard. The issue isn’t a lack of effort. Change is rarely as simple as making a promise and gritting our teeth.

What often gets overlooked is the quieter experience underneath all of this. The weight of the promises we don’t keep to ourselves.

The promises that matter and the ones we break

For many people, the hardest promises to keep are not the ones made to others, but the ones made privately, internally, often without witnesses.

You might recognise this in yourself.
You show up for work.
You meet deadlines.
You keep appointments.
You are reliable, conscientious, and dependable.

Friends trust you. Colleagues rely on you. Other people’s needs seem to activate something steady and responsive inside you.

And yet, promises to yourself quietly fall away.

The intention to slow down.
To look after your mental health.
To address something that’s been troubling you for a long time.

These commitments get postponed, reshaped, or abandoned altogether. Not dramatically, but gently, almost invisibly.

Many people tell us, “I’m good at keeping promises to others, just not to myself.”

It’s often said with a mixture of resignation and self-criticism, as though this is some personal flaw that should have been fixed by now.

Is that selflessness or something else?

Sometimes this pattern gets framed as selflessness. As generosity. As being the kind of person who puts others first.

And it’s true. Caring about others matters. Being dependable matters. But when we look a little more closely, this explanation doesn’t always quite fit.

Often, keeping promises to others feels clearer and safer. There are expectations, structures, and consequences. Someone else is involved. There is accountability, even if it’s unspoken.

Promises to ourselves are different. They are quieter. Easier to renegotiate. Easier to avoid without anyone else noticing. And sometimes, much harder to sit with emotionally.

Breaking a promise to yourself can stir something painful. Disappointment, shame, or the fear that maybe you can’t be relied upon at all. Avoiding the promise altogether can feel like a form of protection.

So this isn’t usually about valuing others more than yourself. It’s often about discomfort, learned beliefs, and how safe it feels to turn towards your own needs.

The shame that follows and the avoidance that protects us

When promises to ourselves are broken repeatedly, something subtle happens. We begin to trust ourselves a little less. We stop making commitments that feel important. Or we make them half-heartedly, already braced for failure.

Shame plays a quiet role here.

Not the loud, dramatic kind, but the low-level, persistent sense of “Why can’t I just stick to things?” The internal comparison with people who seem more disciplined, more consistent, more together.

Avoidance often follows. Not because we don’t care, but because caring hurts.

Avoidance can look like distraction, busyness, minimising, or telling ourselves “now’s not the right time.” And in many ways, it makes sense. If trying and failing hurts, then not trying at all can feel safer.

But over time, the cost is real. The promises don’t disappear. They accumulate quietly in the background, adding to a sense of disconnection from ourselves.

Responsibility as staying connected

When we talk about responsibility, it can quietly feel like pressure. Like something we ought to manage better or get right.

But responsibility doesn’t have to mean holding yourself to high standards or pushing through at all costs. It can be much simpler than that. It can mean staying connected to yourself, even when things don’t go to plan.

Responsibility isn’t about never cancelling.
It isn’t about always feeling motivated.
It isn’t about doing things perfectly.

It’s about noticing when commitments slip, and choosing not to turn away from yourself in response. It’s staying present rather than retreating into self-criticism or avoidance.

This kind of responsibility is quiet and relational. And for many people, it’s the first version that feels possible to live with.

Why one promise can matter more than many

New Year resolutions often fail because they ask too much, too quickly, and too privately. Too many promises. Too little support. Too much pressure to “fix” things.

What if keeping one promise mattered more than keeping ten?

One contained, realistic commitment.
One place to show up regularly.
One relationship where you don’t have to manage everything alone.

This is where counselling can be different.

Committing to counselling isn’t a promise to change your personality, resolve everything, or feel better overnight. It’s a promise to turn up, with support, structure, and someone alongside you.

For many people, this becomes the first promise to themselves that feels possible to keep. And something interesting often follows. As trust in yourself grows, other commitments begin to feel less heavy, less loaded, less fragile.

Not because you’re trying harder, but because you’re no longer doing it alone.

An invitation

This isn’t an argument for resolutions. And it isn’t a demand for discipline.

It’s an invitation to notice how you relate to promises.
Which ones feel heavy.
Which ones feel impossible to sustain in isolation.

If you’re someone who shows up for others but struggles to show up for yourself, there is nothing wrong with you. There may simply be something asking for attention, support, and care.

Counselling can be one promise.
Not a transformation.
Not a performance.
Just a place to arrive, again and again, as you are.

And sometimes, that’s enough to begin shifting the quiet weight you’ve been carrying.

Thanks all

Tom

(Hammock co-founder)