The trouble with goals

When I first trained as a life coach, it was all about goals. 

Setting goals, attaining them, then setting more goals in a relentless cycle of achievement. This is effective for some people, and certainly better than bumbling aimlessly through life with no direction at all. But the trouble with goal-setting is that it’s all about the result, not the journey.

I noticed that achieving their goals wasn’t making many of my clients happy, day to day. In fact they would often talk about happiness as something that had to be earned, or at least deferred until their income crossed a certain threshold, lost a certain amount of weight, got 250k followers on Instagram, finished their novel.. or achieved whatever the latest goal was. 

Even when they got there, they’d have a brief celebration, a moment of happiness. But then they’d set new, bigger goals and start striving all over again. It all seemed a bit joyless.

The trouble with goals is they’re rarely about enjoying the process: the weeks, months or even years it might take to get where you want to go. And surely that’s the point?

Goals are often external and arbitrary. 

If you set goals, they need to be measurable, so you know when you’ve got there. But fixating on a specific number rarely makes sense to me.

Why would your life be significantly better if you earned £100k rather than £99k? Why would you be happier or different as a size 8 rather than a 10, 12, or indeed 20? And what use is a huge social media following if it doesn’t result in authentic connection, real fans or sales? 

I like to set income goals every quarter. It helps me focus on what I’m creating, what I’m selling, what works and what doesn’t. But they’re an aspiration, not something I need to push too hard to attain.

So long as I’ve bought in the minimum my family needs to get by, everything else is a delightful bonus. I don’t have to beat myself up if I fall short, or work all hours just to reach a random round number.

Goals also often focus on faults and flaws that need to be fixed.

There is nothing wrong wanting to make changes in your life, or with being ambitious and wanting more.

But deep change starts with loving and accepting yourself as you are, then building on that with kindness and compassion. Not with constantly pushing and critiquing yourself and deciding that you can’t rest, be happy or be satisfied with your life until you’ve passed some new milestone of achievement or self-improvement.

Goal-setting rarely works for me.

Despite all my coach training. Despite all the systems and tools I’d learned. Every January, I’d write out lots of grand resolutions that were just about attainable in a year. Yet by December, I’d have achieved very few of them. 

Why? They were too big and overwhelming. They were often things I felt I should do, rather than my real heart’s desires. And for me, the dark, cold January nights in the UK have never felt the right time for a fresh start. I’d write all my fancy goals down, then go into my normal winter hibernation. By spring, they were all forgotten.

So I stopped making New Year resolutions.

I now plan out my year after my birthday in March, when spring is in the air and I’m feeling much more rested and energetic. For me, January and February are a time for rest and renewal, for early nights and curling up with a good book rather than launching new ventures.

We’re all different. So if you start the calendar year motivated and ready, go for it! If not, choose a time that makes sense to you, and reset then: the start of the financial year in April or the academic year in September, your birthday, or some other marker that’s right for you.

I also stopped thinking about what goals I wanted to achieve, and focused more on the projects I wanted to begin or complete. Goals seem distant and a little abstract, to me. Projects feel more practical. They can be broken into steps, and I don’t have to wait for a perfect stretch of clear time to begin this huge new goal. I just work out the next small step. And do it.

I approach goal-setting differently now.

 Instead of setting targets and dates, I start by getting clear on the life I really want, creating a powerful vision of my future, of my ideal life. (If you want some of the questions I use, buy my Your Next Year workbook, or get my free writing prompts here.)

This varies from year to year with me, and I often need to dig deep underneath my vision to see what I really want: a holiday, not a Malibu beach house; more time with friends, even if they don’t all come to stay with me in said beach house.

I also like to imagine looking back on my life, in old age. At the end of my life, what will I most regret not doing or trying? What will I wish I’d done more of? And less of?

Once I have a clear vision of the future I want, and what’s really important to me, I ask some questions:

• Who do I need to become, to make that future happen?
• What skills do I need to develop?
• What habits and routines would support me?
• Who do I need to spend more time with? What do I need to change?

It’s more about the process than the result.

I end up with goals and intentions that come much more from the heart and soul than the head. Spending precious time with my elderly mum and making sure I have meaningful time with my son were never things that figured in my old lists of goals and resolutions, for instance. But they are key to me now, and I plan my year around them. 

These more organic intentions rarely have numbers attached. They’re not about striving to pass rigid milestones by certain dates, and feeling like I’ve failed if I don’t get there bang on schedule.

I’m now more interested in attaining financial freedom than on hitting an exact annual earnings target. On having time and space to do the things I want to do. On feeling fit, healthy and full of energy rather than getting to a set weight or dress size. On having a regular creative practice rather than counting only what I produce.

Focus on what you do daily.

Even when I don’t feel I’m taking great strides forward, I can enjoy the quiet satisfaction of showing up and doing the work, talking the walk, attracting clients I love coaching and spending time with.

If you pay close attention to the habits and routines you need to build, the bigger goals tend to take care of themselves.

For years, ‘Write a new book’ was on my annual list of resolutions, for instance. And I’d kid myself I was still going to do it right up to November, when thousands of people draft out a book in the annual NaNoWriMo event. But I never did. Mainly because I didn’t schedule in regular time to work on it. Or, if I’m honest, even to think about it. 

Writing has always been a part of my life, and it is always a part of any future I imagine for myself. Yet I wasn’t doing it in an organised way. So instead of setting the same goal again, I asked a question:

Who do I need to become, to create more books? 

The answer was pretty obvious. I needed to become someone who writes, every day. And not just when I have an upcoming deadline.

So I built habits and routines to support that. I found groups and connected with friends who would hold me accountable, and started experimenting with what worked for me. Then I focussed my efforts not on finishing a book but on simply showing up every morning at 8am and writing for at least an hour. 

This year, I’ve written a book, and have ideas and outlines for several more useful little books for creatives.. I’ve also produced a weekly blog post here on The Creative Life, and 26 issues of my newsletter, The Creative Companion. There were features for newspapers and magazines, and I’ve contributed chapters to several more books. And it all came from writing most mornings, from 8am-9am.

Sometimes I write more, but rarely less. There’s no decision-making involved, no dithering or procrastination. It’s just what I do now, who I am. 

This isn’t always fun. 

There are mornings when I’d rather stay in bed, when the words just won’t come, when I just don’t feel like it. But I also get a quiet contentment from writing regularly, from consistently doing the thing that makes me feel more.. me. 

Even on a bad day, it feels a lot better than procrastination. If I just keep showing up, morning after morning, substantial projects take shape.

I’ve also learned that I can’t predict when the good days will come, and that my mood when I begin has very little effect on what I produce. So I show up regularly, even when I don’t feel like it. Because I don’t want to miss one of those random mornings when everything clicks and the words just flow.

But there are still some mornings I don’t write, and that’s OK too.

Not writing a book, year after year, felt like a massive failure. Not writing for one day feels much less catastrophic. I just pick it up again the day after, and carry on.

This how to create the future you want.

You think about the life you want, and who you need to become. Then you put habits and routines in place to create that.

Want to run a marathon? Start with a short daily run, or even a walk if you haven’t exercised in a while. If you have never exercised regularly, maybe start by putting on your shoes, and going outside. If if only for a few seconds at first.

Want to play Glastonbury? Send your press pack to five new venues or booking agents every week, to get more gigs. Or approach a new publication every week, to raise your profile. Or, if you’re not that far along in your musical journey, just start rehearsing regularly, and writing your first songs. 

Want to lose weight? Swap one unhealthy habit for a better one: replacing sugary canned drinks with water, for instance. Then, when that comes naturally, try something else. 

Want to earn more money from your work? Block out regular time to approach new retailers, clients, galleries. Or experiment with a new income stream every month or quarter. 

If you focus on what you do with your days, the years take care of themselves.