An existential reflection for the new year

As the calendar turns, many of us feel the familiar pull toward change. A new year carries symbolic weight. It suggests renewal, choice, and the possibility of becoming someone slightly different from who we have been.

Yet there is an important distinction we often overlook.

A promise is an act of commitment. It binds us to an outcome. I will stay. I will stop. I will do better. A promise carries responsibility and, often, pressure.

A desire, on the other hand, is an expression of longing. I want more closeness. I want to feel less anxious. I want a relationship that feels alive. Desires point toward meaning rather than mastery. They tell us something about who we are becoming, not who we must control ourselves into being.

As we enter the new year, it may be worth asking whether we are trying to discipline ourselves into change, or whether we are listening more carefully to what is quietly asking for attention.

The existential push and pull

Human beings live with tension. We want change and we resist it. We long for intimacy and fear exposure. We crave freedom and ache for belonging.

This push and pull is not a flaw. It is the structure of being human.

Singles often experience this tension as a longing for partnership alongside a fierce protection of independence. I want connection, but I do not want to lose myself again. Couples live it too. I want closeness, but not at the cost of being seen too clearly. I want passion, but I also want predictability.

Around the new year, this ambivalence becomes louder. We tell ourselves that this will be the year things finally shift. We imagine a more regulated, more confident, more relationally competent version of ourselves. In doing so, we can quietly turn parts of ourselves into problems to be fixed.

Existentially speaking, the question is not how to eradicate these tensions, but how to relate to them with honesty.

When self-improvement becomes self-rejection

Many resolutions are built on an unspoken premise. Who I am now is not enough.

In relationships, this can sound like:

• If I were less needy, this would work.
• If I were more patient, they would change.
• If I finally healed myself, I would be loved properly.

For singles, it often shows up as:

• Relentless self-optimisation.
• Better boundaries.
• Better communication.
• Better self-worth.

Growth that comes from contempt rarely sustains itself. Change that lasts is usually rooted in understanding, not force.

The selves we are ready to release

There is another way to approach the new year.

Instead of asking what you want to fix, you might ask what version of yourself you are ready to let go of.

Perhaps it is the self who stays silent to keep the peace.

The self who over functions in love.

The self who believes it is safer to be wanted than to be known.

The self who keeps choosing emotionally unavailable partners because longing feels familiar.

These identities often feel like promises. I will not need too much. I will not leave. I will not ask for more than is offered. At one point, they protected something vital.

The existential task is to recognise when a once necessary promise has quietly become a limit.

Desire as a compass, not a demand

Desire does not ask for perfection. It asks for attention.

In relationships, desire might be less about wanting more from your partner and more about understanding what aliveness means to you now. In single life, desire might be less about finding the right person and more about reclaiming parts of yourself that have gone dormant.

Desire points toward values. Connection. Freedom. Creativity. Stability. Meaning. When we listen to it carefully, it can guide choices without turning them into ultimatums.

Beginning again, differently

If you are inclined to mark the new year, consider this instead of a list of resolutions:

• Name one desire that feels alive rather than punishing.
• Notice one promise you are still keeping that no longer fits who you are.
• Acknowledge the ambivalence rather than trying to override it.
• Allow change to be relational and iterative, not total or immediate.

Existentially, we are always in the middle of becoming. There is no clean slate, only continuity with choice.

The invitation of the new year is not to become someone else, but to relate more honestly to who you already are, and who you are quietly growing into.