Hello February, you month of reckoning, you. You’re the calendar month when New Year’s resolutions tend to look less like commitments and more like indictments on our permanently flawed and derelict selves.

The gym bag sits untouched.

The journal stares accusingly from the nightstand.

The ambitious new identity we unveiled on January 1 (“I’m a 5 a.m. person now!”) takes Ambien(s) and is an unstoppable snooze-button-presser.

And that’s just fine.

Let’s unpack the thorny truth: goals are set by Fantasy You. Fantasy You has unlimited energy, zero competing priorities, lustrous hair, and a suspicious amount of free time. Fantasy You uses phrases like “daily practice,” “clean eating,” and “living my best life” (*gag*). Meanwhile, Actual You has a job &/or incessant commitments, relationships, fluctuating motivation, a fickle nervous system, and understandable cravings for Tapatio flavored Doritos.

Psychologists have long noted the gap between ideal selves and actual selves. Sometimes “gap” is a charitable euphemism for “canyon.” Goals often bite the dust not because we’re lazy, but because they were designed for a person who doesn’t exist.

There’s also the minor issue of life happening. Goals are usually set in a vacuum—before the workload spike, the family crisis, the nasty health diagnosis, the unexpected grief, or the sudden realization that we just don’t really care about the goal that much anymore. Research on self-regulation shows that quitting, when done thoughtfully, can be in our best interest. Letting go of unattainable or misaligned goals frees up the hallowed trio of resources—time, energy, attention—that can be redirected toward goals that actually matter now. This goal disengagement business is associated with better well-being, especially during periods of change or insanity.

Clinging rigidly to goals that no longer fit us can increase stress, guilt, and rumination. So sometimes persistence isn’t grit… it’s just loopy self-sabotage. We don’t have time for that this year.

Abandoning goals—especially the ones we set during Champagne-fueled bursts of optimism—is less a sign of moral failure and more an indication of psychological health and being rooted in reality.

We should also talk about how some goals simply expire. They were appropriate for a different season of life, maybe. Or they were aspirational in a way that felt impressive instead of nourishing. Or they were based on who we thought we should be, not who we really are. I keep adding “get back into meditation” onto my List of Goals because I like the idea of being a meditator. But no part of me wants to meditate. That ship sailed for me back in 2015, the last time I sat still for 20 minutes. It’s a different life-season for me and I just need to find a different way to be mindful.

Abandoning a goal doesn’t mean abandoning all hopes of self-actualization, though—it can mean refining it… downsizing it… switching it out it with something less rabid and more humane. Maybe the goal wasn’t “write a book,” but “write a few paragraphs when I’m in the creative mood.” Maybe it wasn’t “run a marathon,” but “move my body without resenting it.” Maybe the goal wasn’t even a goal—it was just a decent intention cloaked in a to-do list.

Is February a graveyard for our ambitions? You know how much I love graveyards, but no. It’s a checkpoint. Let’s ask ourselves, “is this goal still serving the real me?”… “is it aligned with my values, or just my calendar?”… and my favorite one of all: “if I weren’t trying to prove anything, would I keep this goal for the rest of the year?” (*Gulp*)

Sometimes the most alive thing we can do is admit, “this goal makes me feel dead inside,” and dig its grave without hard feelings.

Because life isn’t a performance review, right? And that’s how I’ve been treating myself—like a bad boss issuing the “does not meet expectations” kiss of death when my performance-oriented brain isn’t satisfied unless I’ve earned the “CRUSHED THE MOTHERFUCKING EXPECTATIONS, YET AGAIN” rating. Nope, no more. I’m allowed to quit a goal if it’s not doing it for me, and I’m allowed to feel zero guilt for doing so. Cheers to the judicious use of goal disengagement… you with me?