Why Rigid Habits Fail

Hi there,

We are rounding out 2026 and will be in 2027 before we know it. Just a few more months to go and every January, people announce their goals and resolutions. As if this is finally the year you prove something to yourself, or maybe to someone else.

But the final quarter of year is a great time to take stock of life. It’s as good as a chapter as any other, but people don’t seem to give it as much weight.

Maybe because we’re wired to think in chapters. Endings and beginnings matter to us. So when a new year begins, it naturally carries a quiet optimism and the feeling that one version of you has closed and another is now possible.

You feel it as an identity shift: that was the old me. This is the new me with a clean slate who can get it right this time.

That’s why the start of a new year holds so much power. It’s not just a date change. It’s an identity reset and those are rare.

There’s a subtle belief tucked into fresh starts too: that if you just make the rules tight enough this time, the pieces will come together.

And then life does what life always does…

You have a bad night’s sleep, a meeting runs long, or a day asks more of you than you planned for. Nothing too dramatic, but just enough disruption to knock you off schedule. And suddenly the plan you were so confident in feels fragile.

That’s where things usually start to unravel. Not because the goal was wrong, but because the structure around it wasn’t built to withstand real life.

The Research That Changed How I Think About Habits

Behavioral scientist Katy Milkman has spent years studying why people struggle to change even when they genuinely want to.

One of her findings is deceptively simple:

In one study, she and her colleagues worked with Google employees who wanted to exercise more regularly. Everyone identified their “ideal” workout time. Then they were split into two groups.

One group was encouraged to work out only at that exact time, every time. The other group received reminders at their ideal time, but were encouraged to work out whenever it realistically fit.

On paper, the strict approach sounds better. But it didn’t work as well.

People in the rigid group often skipped the gym entirely if they missed their window. The flexible group showed up more consistently and built habits that actually lasted.

The real deal breaker wasn’t motivation. It was the all-or-nothing rule baked into the plan. Lasting habits, it turns out, need flexibility to survive.

Why A Couple of Missed Days Feels Like the End

Rigid habits carry an unspoken rule: If you can’t do this properly, don’t do it at all.

The rigidity doesn’t allow for margin of error and you feel it the first time you miss. The streak you were building breaks, and suddenly the habit feels invalid. You tell yourself you’re no longer “someone who does this.” You’re someone who tried and failed.

That identity shift happens fast and it’s brutal.

Flexible habits don’t do that to you.

They allow for variation. They assume you’re human. They give you room for bad days, weird weeks, low energy, shifting priorities. And crucially, they let you show up in different forms without erasing the story you’re building about yourself.

You’re still a writer if you write a paragraph instead of a page. You’re still someone who moves if today is a walk instead of a workout.

That distinction between identity preserved and identity lost is everything.

What Real Consistency Actually Looks Like

There’s a simple image I keep coming back to.

That’s real consistency: not perfection, but progress and continuity.

And if there’s one thing worth carrying into the year ahead, it’s this: the habits that actually change your life aren’t the ones that demand perfection. They’re the ones that leave room for being human so that you can keep evolving.

Final Thought

Most people don’t fail because they lack discipline. They fail because their plan leaves no room for the days we’re tired, overwhelmed, or just… human.

So why not do a quarter year audit and eek out some wins before its over?

See you next week,

Shakila