Confessions of a Goal Hater

I need to start with a confession that feels… a little unhinged.

I hate goal setting.

Which is objectively bonkers, given that I literally co run a company that helps people and teams set and pursue meaningful goals. Thank God Greg actually is good at this.

I’ve never been a natural goal setter. Like ever. I’ve never loved sitting down, reflecting, writing things out, and declaring exactly what I want from life in five years, six months, or even two days from now. I assume it’s somehow connected to why I’ve also never liked yoga or meditation. I’d rather play sports, lift heavy things, or do literally anything that makes me move fast and sweat enough to distract my brain. I probably need more therapy to fully unpack that.

I think a big part of it is that I really don’t like feeling boxed in. Somewhere along the way, I started equating goal setting with rules, restrictions, and someone telling me what I should want. Self imposed or otherwise.

I convinced myself that if I set goals, I’d miss out on the good stuff. The spontaneity. The surprises. The freedom to change my mind. I like not knowing exactly what my life will look like in five years, six months, or even next week.

So for a long time, I decided goal setting was bad and I just didn’t do it. Full stop.

If any of this sounds familiar, hi. You’re not broken. Well maybe you are (no judgement) but you’re definitely not alone.

Goal setting isn’t hard because we’re bad at it. It’s hard because it’s uncomfortable in ways we don’t really talk about.

On paper, it looks simple. Decide what you want. Write it down. Make a plan. Do the thing.

But the hardest part isn’t the planning or the doing. It’s deciding what you actually want in the first place. Not what you should want. Not what sounds impressive. Not what looks good on Instagram. What you actually want.

That level of honesty is confronting as hell.

Because once you name something, you can’t un name it. You can’t keep hiding behind someday or eventually or when things calm down. Naming it adds pressure. Naming it asks, if this matters… why the hell isn’t it happening?

That’s where I get stuck.

For some people, writing something down feels like tempting fate. For others, it feels like setting themselves up to fail. And for a lot of us, it shines a very bright light on the gap between where we are and where we thought we’d be by now.

No wonder we avoid it.

It’s way easier to stay busy. Easier to stay flexible. Easier to say you’re just not a “goal person.” Not because you don’t care, but because staying busy feels safer than choosing a direction and possibly being disappointed.

With all the work we’ve been doing to help OTHER people set goals, I’m starting to see the whole goal setting thing in a different way.

When nothing is named, life fills the space for you.

Your days get full. Your weeks fly by. You’re doing a lot, but it starts to feel like you’re being pulled along instead of actually choosing where you’re going.

You say yes reactively. And as annoying as it is, Oliver Burkeman (the author of Four Thousand Weeks) is right. Every yes is a no to something else. When you don’t know what you’re saying yes for, you eventually end up saying no to things that actually matter to you.

Direction doesn’t have to be rigid. It doesn’t have to be a perfectly worded goal. But it does have to exist.

I still hate the phrase goal setting. It feels stuffy and uptight. Sorry, Greg.

I like spontaneity. I like flexibility. I like flying by the seat of my pants. That part of me isn’t going anywhere.

But I know that without some sense of direction, I drift.

And direction doesn’t mean a five step plan or locking yourself into something forever. It can be way simpler than that.

It can be naming one thing you want more of this year.

It can be deciding what you’re done tolerating.

It can be choosing how you want to show up, not where you want to end up.

Over the past year, we worked with dozens of people in our UNBLOCK Yourself program. Almost everyone’s goal shifted. Life happened. Priorities changed. And that was completely fine. And also expected.

What mattered wasn’t whether they hit the original goal. What mattered was that they moved forward - with intention.

Goals are not contracts. They’re allowed to change.

The act of choosing matters more than getting it right.

So if you’re like me and this time of year makes you want to roll your eyes at the word goals, maybe don’t call it that.

Call it direction. Call it focus. Call it a masterplan.

Just don’t skip the part where you choose.

A good starting place is asking yourself, what do I really want more of this year? That’s where I plan to start.