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I’ve tried out a host of New Year’s resolutions over the course of my adult life (quit weed! Do Pilates every week! Throw more dinner parties! Regularly clean the bathtub!), but seldom, if ever, have I actually put them into practice in the cold, appraising light of January 1st. In general, I don’t find an annual deadline to stop doing things I like—or to start doing things I dread—to be helpful in actually changing my behavior in a sustainable way.
I’ve found a lot more success with “mottos,” a concept my friend Eliza introduced to me. Instead of pinpointing a specific thing I need to start or stop in the new year, I come up with a phrase of one or two words to guide my general vibe over the coming 12 months. One year was “improve gently”; another was “enjoy it.” But for 2026, I’m going with something a little more prescriptive and ironclad: “Don’t bail.”
I don’t particularly like admitting it to myself, but I’m a first-degree bailer. I try my absolute hardest not to skip out on significant emotional or practical commitments like calling a friend after their breakup or picking someone up from a medical procedure, but too often, I take lower-stakes hangs, dinners, parties, and coffee dates less seriously, living by John Mulaney’s famous joke like some kind of creed: “In terms of instant relief, canceling plans is like heroin.” Well, Mulaney famously quit actual hard drugs, so I should (at least in theory) be able to stop skipping out on things I’ve agreed to, right?
It’s not that I bail because I don’t want to see my friends, something I’ve tried to explain to them but that, unsurprisingly, doesn’t go all that far in making them less annoyed at me when I rain check a lunch or reschedule drinks. I desperately want to hang out with the people I love, all the more so now that I live alone in a studio apartment; my friends, family, and colleagues are the people who keep me even-keeled, joyful, and even remotely normal, and I would quite literally be nothing without them. Unfortunately, I frequently suffer from what a therapist only recently defined for me as ADHD-induced overwhelm; when I’m feeling good and on top of the world, I proactively schedule plans I can’t wait to keep, but once obligations mount and my secret introvert side takes over, it can feel like all I’m capable of doing is sitting silently in front of the TV and (maybe) walking the dog.
I don’t want to use my ADHD as an excuse for not keeping plans, as I’m far from the only person I know who struggles with executive function and energy conservation. Instead, in 2026, I want to be more mindful and honest with myself and others about what I agree to ahead of time, rather than saying yes to everything only to inevitably renege the night of.
“Don’t bail” is bigger than making it to parties I’ve RSVP-ed to, though. I used to think it was no big deal if I canceled or rescheduled plans, so long as I was still checking in with people and showing up for them emotionally. But as Zadie Smith once wrote, “Time is how you spend your love,” and I want to be someone that the people in my life can rely on, whether we’re having an hours-long process session or just going to the wine bar for a cheeky gossip.
Over time, my friends have gotten used to my ways (indeed, during my recent breakup my friend Sarah issued me three “bail cards” to use whenever I needed; as of now, I’ve only used one and a half, not to brag). But their kindness and understanding only makes me more motivated to show up. If I can make it a personal rule to be there when I’m supposed to be on a consistent basis, what can’t I do?
