Why I’m Done with New Year’s Resolutions (And Why Your Brain Needs a Reset, Not a Rule)

It's the first week of January.

Depending on when you’re reading this, the gyms are currently overflowing. You can’t get a squat rack to save your life. The produce section at the grocery store has been picked clean of kale and spinach, while the frozen pizza aisle looks like a ghost town. The energy in the air is frantic, manic, and determined.

We call this "Resolution Season."

As a doctor, I have a complicated relationship with January. On one hand, I love the enthusiasm. I love that people want to get better. But I also know, with depressing statistical certainty, what my clinic schedule will look like come February 15th.

By mid-February, the gym will be quiet again. The kale will rot in the crisper drawer. And patients will sit in my office, looking defeated, telling me that they "failed." They’ll tell me they lacked discipline. They’ll tell me they just need to try harder next time. They will carry the heavy, wet blanket of shame, convinced that their inability to change their entire life overnight is a character flaw.

I used to nod and give them pep talks. I used to prescribe "grit."

But after spending years diving into the neuroscience of habit formation, trauma, and neuroplasticity, I realized that I was giving them the wrong prescription. We don’t have a willpower problem. We have a hardware problem.

This year, I am not making a New Year’s Resolution. I am not writing down a rigid list of rules that I will inevitably break. Instead, I am focusing on intentions—and I’m using Ketamine therapy to make them stick.

If that sounds extreme to you—using a dissociative anesthetic to keep a New Year’s goal—stay with me. Because the science of why we get "stuck" is fascinating, and the way we get "unstuck" might be the most important medical breakthrough of the last decade.

The Neuroscience of "The Rut"

To understand why resolutions fail, we have to look at the brain's default operating system.

In medicine, we talk about something called the Default Mode Network (DMN).

Think of the DMN as your brain’s autopilot. It is a constellation of brain regions—including the medial prefrontal cortex and the posterior cingulate cortex—that are active when you aren't focused on a specific task. It’s where your brain goes when it daydreams, when it ruminates, and when it thinks about you.

The DMN is the storyteller. It holds the narrative of who you are.

• "I am an anxious person."
• "I am not a runner."
• "I always procrastinate."
• "I need a drink to relax after work."

Over the course of your life, your neurons fire together in specific patterns to support these stories. I like to compare it to skiing. Imagine a mountain covered in deep snow. The first time you ski down, you can go anywhere. But after ten years of skiing the exact same path, you have carved deep, icy grooves into the mountain.

When you stand at the top of that hill (or at the start of a stressful Tuesday), your skis naturally slide into those grooves. It takes zero energy to go down the path of anxiety or bad habits. It is efficient. Your brain loves efficiency.

Now, think about a New Year’s Resolution.A resolution is essentially you standing at the top of that mountain, looking at those ten-year-old icy tracks, and saying, "I am going to ski uphill."

You are fighting gravity. You are fighting physics. And you are fighting your own biology. You might be able to white-knuckle it for a week or two (using the prefrontal cortex to override the DMN), but eventually, you get tired. You get stressed. And the moment your vigilance drops, your skis slide right back into the old tracks.

This isn't failure. This is homeostasis.

Enter Ketamine: Fresh Powder for the Brain

So, if the problem is the "tracks," how do we fix it?

This is where Ketamine comes in. And I want to be very clear here: I am not talking about recreational use. I am talking about therapeutic, clinician-guided protocols.

Ketamine is an NMDA receptor antagonist. Without getting too bogged down in the biochemistry, it works on the glutamate system, which is the primary excitatory neurotransmitter in the brain.

When you undergo a Ketamine session, something remarkable happens to the Default Mode Network. It goes quiet.

Functional MRI scans show that under the influence of Ketamine, the connectivity within the DMN is significantly reduced. The chatter stops. The storyteller shuts up.

Going back to our ski analogy: Ketamine is a fresh snowfall.It dumps a foot of fresh powder over those deep, icy ruts.

When the session is over, the tracks are filled in. You are standing at the top of the mountain, and for the first time in years, you have a choice. You can carve a new path. The gravity of your old habits is temporarily suspended.

This state is what we call neuroplasticity.

The Fertilizer Effect (BDNF)

The "trip" or the dissociative experience of Ketamine is interesting, and it can be profound, but the real magic happens in the days after the treatment.

Ketamine triggers a surge in a protein called Brain-Derived Neurotrophic Factor (BDNF). In medical school, we used to joke that BDNF is "Miracle-Gro for the brain."

It encourages synaptogenesis—the growth of new synapses and connections between neurons. It repairs the dendritic spines that have been shriveled up by chronic stress and cortisol.

So, here is the timeline:

1. During the session: The DMN goes offline. You get a break from your own critical inner voice. You gain perspective.
2. Days 1–7 post-session: Your brain is in a hyper-plastic state. It is fertile ground.

This is why I say Ketamine is better than a resolution. A resolution is a demand. Ketamine is a facilitator. It creates the biological conditions that make change possible. It opens a window of opportunity where it is suddenly easier to start that new gym habit, or to respond to your spouse with patience instead of irritation, because your brain isn't automatically sliding into the old groove.

My Personal Experience: The Silence

I want to strip away the "Doctor" title for a second and speak to you as a guy who struggles just like anyone else.

The first time I utilized this therapy, I didn't see God. I didn't hallucinate pink elephants.I just felt... space.

I remember sitting on my back porch the morning after a session. Usually, my morning brain is a chaotic to-do list: Did I email that patient? Did I pay the mortgage? I need to workout. I’m already late.

But that morning, it was just quiet.I looked at the trees, and I was just there.

I realized that for the last decade, I had been operating in a state of low-grade "fight or flight." I was so used to the noise that I didn't realize how loud it was until it stopped.

In that silence, I found I could actually set an intention. Not a reactive "I need to fix myself" panic-resolution, but a calm, forward-looking intention.

Intentions vs. Resolutions: The Clinical Difference

You might think these words are synonyms, but neurologically, they are very different.

A Resolution is usually negative and rigid.

• "I will lose 20 pounds."
• "I will stop eating sugar."
• "I will not yell at my kids."

Resolutions are binary. You either do it, or you don't. They activate the brain's threat detection systems because they are framed around what is "wrong" with you. When you slip up (and you will), the shame cycle activates the DMN, and you slide back into the rut.

An Intention is directional and additive.

• "I intend to prioritize nutrient-dense food that fuels my energy."
• "I intend to cultivate patience."

Intentions work with the neuroplasticity. They are the new tracks you are carving into that fresh snow.

How to Approach 2026 (Even without Ketamine)

Look, I know not everyone is going to run out and book an IV Ketamine infusion or start nasal spray therapy this week. (Although, if you have treatment-resistant depression or anxiety, I highly recommend looking into it).

But you can still apply the principles of neuroplasticity to your New Year.

1.Disrupt the Pattern:If you want to change a habit, you have to change the environment. Your DMN is triggered by cues—your couch, your commute, your kitchen layout. If you want to stop snacking at night, don’t just "try harder." Rearrange the furniture. Change the lighting. Give your brain a signal that this is different.

2. Focus on the "Add," not the "Subtract":BDNF and dopamine are released when we learn and achieve. They are inhibited by stress and shame. Set goals that add value (e.g., "I will drink 3 liters of water") rather than goals that restrict (e.g., "No soda").

3. The 72-Hour Window:If you do use Ketamine or engage in high-intensity exercise (which also boosts BDNF, albeit less dramatically), use the immediate aftermath wisely. That 24-72 hour window after the event is when your brain is most moldable. Do the hard thing then. Write the journal entry then. Have the difficult conversation then.

Final Thoughts

We put so much pressure on January 1st. We treat it like a magical portal where the "Old Me" dies and the "New Me" is born.

But biology doesn't work like that. You are the same organism you were on December 31st. You have the same neural pathways. You have the same scars.

And that’s okay. You don’t need to be a new person. You just need to give your brain a chance to breathe.

If you are feeling stuck this week, take a breath. Stop trying to force the ski tips uphill. Whether it’s through therapy, meditation, or medical intervention like Ketamine, focus on clearing the tracks first.

Let’s make 2026 the year we stop fighting our own brains and start working with them.

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