January and the Great Pivot

By: Devin Tomiak, Academic Life Coach

January has a way of making us look forward and inward at the same time.

Many of us kick off the year with "Big Resolution Energy." We’re going to cut carbs, run at sunrise, or tackle a habit we’ve been meaning to build. For the first week, it’s intoxicating. You convince the universe that this year, finally, you’ve got it right. By the second week though, reality crashes the party—deadlines pile up, the snooze button starts winning again, and suddenly even small intentions feel heavy. You skip journaling or forget that green smoothie, and for the perfectionists among us, that one slip quickly turns into the “well, I’ve blown it, might as well quit everything” spiral.

But what if January didn’t ask us to resolve anything at all?

What if, instead, it invited us to choose an identity?

From Resolutions to Identity

Resolutions focus on outcomes: What am I going to accomplish? What am I going to stop doing? What needs to change?

Identity is different. Identity asks:

Who do I want to practice being?

Not who you should be. Not who you’ll be once you get it “right.”

Just who you want to orient toward—again and again—especially on ordinary days.

An identity isn’t a rigid rule you have to follow. It’s a relationship you return to.

Why Identity Feels Lighter

One of the reasons identity tends to work better than resolutions is that it leaves room for being human.

Resolutions are brittle—easy to break. Miss a day, fall off the plan, and your inner critic jumps in with a bullhorn. 

An identity, on the other hand, is flexible. 

Life happens—you don’t always live up to your own expectations, and that’s okay. Think of it like being a tennis player: you can take time off, miss some practices, and your identity as someone who plays tennis doesn’t erode. Or a writer who skips a week of journaling is still a writer. Your chosen identity is persistent, not perfect.

Consider these pivots:

• Instead of “I’m going to stay calm this year,” an identity might be: “I’m someone who pauses before reacting.” Sure, life will barge in and get the best of you sometimes—but you can still return to the practice of deep breathing in hot moments.

  
  

• Instead of “I need better boundaries,” it could be: “I’m someone who checks in with myself before saying yes.” And maybe you still fall into the FOMO trap every so often, but that doesn’t mean you’ve failed—it’s just a reminder to try again.

  
  

• Instead of “I should be more confident,” it might be: “I’m someone who practices trusting myself.” Perhaps leaning into your own knowing still feels scary, but confidence isn’t measured in perfection; it’s measured in persistence.

  
  

These aren’t standards to live up to. They’re directions to face, gentle reminders that you’re practicing the orientation you’ve chosen, not striving for perfection.

How the Mind Plays a Role

The mind is always trying to help—sometimes it feels supportive, and other times it can feel like a loud and demanding mother-in-law.

When we don’t consciously choose an identity, the brain tends to default to familiar patterns. Because that’s what it knows. Our familiar patterns aren’t necessarily the best option for us, rather they’re the path of least resistance. 

On the other hand, choosing an identity gives your mind a steady North Star to organize around. It offers a reference point based on presence rather than performance.

And when you notice yourself drifting—which we all do—that awareness isn't a failure. The noticing is the practice.

A January Reflection

This month, try experimenting with a different question:

If nothing needed “fixing” this year, who would I want to practice being?

Keep the answer simple and kind—something you can return to, even on days that don’t go as planned. Your chosen identity isn’t about perfection; it’s about how you show up, again and again.

Think of it like a patient friend inside your mind, the one who reminds you that messy hair and mismatched socks aren’t failures. It’s the voice that notices the small choices you actually made, rather than criticizing the ones you didn’t.

Identity acts like a lens, helping ordinary, imperfect moments align with who you want to be.

A Gentle Invitation

In my upcoming Pause Project workshops, we spend time strengthening the mental muscles that make this kind of practice possible—learning how to notice familiar inner patterns, reconnect with intention, and return to who you want to be with more ease.

Not by trying harder.

But by building the awareness that supports choice.

January doesn’t need a reinvention. Sometimes, it just needs a clear orientation—and the patience to keep coming back to it, one imperfect day at a time.

Thanks for reading,

Devin