The annual delusion festival

Right then, it's that time of year: the gyms are preparing for their annual invasion; the stationery shops are flogging pristine planners to people who'll abandon them by February, and somewhere, someone is declaring they'll finally learn Mandarin by August… or become a morning person… or master the art of sourdough baking. All by 1st March, naturally.

According to research from Ohio State University, merely 9% of Americans complete their New Year resolutions. We're looking at a failure rate of over 80%, with most people quitting by mid-February. In fact, 23% of people quit by the end of the first week, and 43% have thrown in the towel by the end of January.

There's even a name for it now: "Quitters Day" which is the second Friday of January, according to Strava, the running and cycling tracking app. Rather poetic, really if you think about it.

The demographics tell an interesting story too. Young adults aged 18-34 are the most likely to set resolutions at 59%, while those over 55 are 3.1 times less likely to bother with the whole charade. Perhaps wisdom really does come with age, or perhaps older folks have simply accumulated enough failed January promises to know better.

The Churchill Method versus the Napoleon Complex

While everyone else scribbles "Lose at least 20 pounds!” or “Become an influential thought leader!”, the real (successful) leaders are doing something rather different. They're writing about the time they completely botched that merger. Or the presentation where they froze. Or the team member they failed to support.

Not because they're masochists, but because they understand something the (failed) resolution-makers don't: wisdom comes from examined failure, not from declaring yourself a future rockstar. Wisdom comes from evaluated experience, after all.

Consider the historical precedent, Churchill. He didn't resolve to win the war through positive affirmations. He documented every single disaster, and every single setback, every "we shall fight them on the beaches" moment that came after things went rather pear-shaped at Dunkirk. Napoleon, on the other hand, made grand sweeping declarations. And we all know how that ended. (Hint: it involved a little island and world-class sulking.)

Research published in Frontiers in Psychology shows that employee learning from failures involves not just remedying current problems but reflecting on underlying causes and taking initiatives for long-term benefit. This is precisely what separates leadership journaling from the resolution circus.

The great leaders throughout history - from Lincoln's documented political defeats to Edison's 3,500 notebooks chronicling his failures alongside his successes, understood that progress comes from forensic analysis of what went wrong, not from optimistic declarations about what might go right. Ray Dalio built Bridgewater Associates, one of the world's most successful hedge funds, on principles derived from meticulously documenting and learning from mistakes. Not exactly the "New Year, New Me" approach, is it?

The Failure Paradox: Why writing about disasters works

Harvard Business School research by Amy Edmondson reveals that organizations genuinely wanting to learn from failures often fail because managers think about failure the wrong way. They treat all failure as bad, when some failures are inevitable, and some are even beneficial. There are wrong wrongs as well as right wrongs, after all.

The problem with resolutions is their future-focused fantasies. "This year I will transform into someone who meditates at dawn whilst drinking green smoothies daily." Meanwhile, your actual self (the one who hit snooze seventeen times this morning alone) remains unexamined.

Studies from Berkeley show that people consistently "under learn" from failure, continuing not to learn from errors even as incentives increase. The researchers found that observing other people's failures first, before taking on a task yourself, leads to better learning than experiencing your own failures directly.

But here's where journaling changes the game. When you write about your failures, you're creating that observational distance. You become both the protagonist and the narrator of your own cautionary tale. It's rather like watching yourself in a particularly cringe-worthy home video. Horrifying, yes, but undeniably educational.

The neuroscience backs this up too. Writing engages different parts of the brain than merely thinking about events. When you document your failures, you're forcing your prefrontal cortex (the bit responsible for executive function and self-reflection) to have a proper conversation with your emotional centers. It's therapy without the awkward silences, the grimaces, and boxes of tissues.

The anti-resolution revolution

Research shows that 33% of people who forgot their resolutions said not keeping track of their progress was the main reason for failure. They're missing the point entirely. It's not about tracking progress towards an imaginary future self. It's about understanding your actual self through careful documentation of what went wrong. EQ, people. It’s always EQ.

IMD Business School research notes that while 70% of executive learning happens through experience in a role, few question how executives actually learn from that experience. The answer lies in reflection, particularly on failure. As time passes and pain diminishes, it becomes easier to reflect more deeply on underlying causes of failure.

Think about it this way: resolutions are aspirational fiction. "I will become a person who..." But leadership journaling about failure is documentary filmmaking. "Here's what actually happened when I tried to..." One is wishful thinking dressed up as goal setting whilst the other is evidence-based learning disguised as writing practice.

Your first entry: A practical guide to learning

So how do you write that first entry? Not "This year I will become a leadership expert..." but rather, "Last March, I ignored three warning signs about that project because I wanted to be right more than I wanted to be successful.” Ouch. Nice.

Be specific. Be ruthless. Be curious about your own incompetence. (We all have rather a lot of it, after all.)

Document the context. What were you thinking? What did you ignore? Who tried to warn you? What story were you telling yourself that made the disaster seem like a good idea at the time? Were you channelling your inner Icarus, convinced that this time the wax wings would hold?

Research in organizational studies shows that while failure aversion can increase perceived loss of self-esteem, it also enhances learning through inducing loss-focused coping strategies. In other words, feeling a bit rubbish about your mistakes actually helps, provided you channel it into analysis rather than despair.

Write about the meeting where you talked for forty minutes and said nothing. The email you sent in anger that you'd give your left kidney to recall. The hire you made because you liked them, despite every red flag waving frantically in your peripheral vision. These aren't just mistakes. They are data points in understanding your own decision-making patterns.

The bottom line

We're not anti-ambition here: we're anti-self-delusion. Your daily leadership journal becomes the place where January's fantasies meet December's realities, and from that collision emerges something actually useful: evidence-based self-awareness and higher EQ.

The beauty of starting with failure is that it sets the bar refreshingly low. You're not trying to become superhuman by February. You're trying to become slightly less likely to repeat last year's cockups. It's achievable. It's honest. Your sub-conscious doesn’t fight it. And unlike your resolution to finally master the art of work-life balance, it might actually happen.

Start with failure. The successes will inevitably follow. Or, hey, they won't, but at least you'll understand why. And that understanding - that hard-won, uncomfortable, occasionally humiliating self-knowledge, is worth more than all the abandoned gym memberships and pristine planners combined.

After all, we are what we repeatedly do. And if what we repeatedly do is make resolutions we don't keep, perhaps it's time we repeatedly did something else instead.

Ready to Start with Failure and Turn it into Growth?

If this article has stirred a few uncomfortable memories already, the simplest place to begin is with your first honest reflection. You can start today by downloading our free 31 Days of Complimentary Leadership Journal Prompts. It is a practical, guided way to begin examining your decisions, reactions, and leadership failures without overwhelm or guesswork. No resolutions. No fantasies. Just data, insight, and real learning.

And if, as you write, you realize you want to go further than a month of reflection, our Leadership Development Program is designed for leaders who are ready to turn awareness into sustained behavioral change. It is a powerful, results-driven experience that develops the habits, beliefs, and competencies consistently seen in top-tier leaders through leadership tools, mental models, and guided journaling.

Start with failure. Start with 31 days. And when you are ready to take it further, we are here to guide the next step.