Keep the Destination in Mind, but Measure the Journey
Most of us are pretty good at setting goals: exercise more, stress less, save money, stop checking work emails at 10pm, communicate better with our partner, become one of those mysterious people who apparently meal-prep on Sundays.
We all have things we want. Setting the goal is rarely the hard part, the part we tend to struggle with is often how do we actually know if we're getting somewhere?
Every year, in the second week of January, a great national experiment begins; gyms fill up, meal-prep containers are purchased in bulk, journals are opened with the reverence usually reserved for a first home loan, and every year, somewhere around mid-February, the experiment quietly ends.
We tend to explain this with a story about willpower, or self-sabotage, that some of us are simply destined for a life of good intentions and unopened resistance bands. In reality, that story is often just another way of shaming ourselves for something far more fixable.
Setting a goal is a bit like deciding to drive from Melbourne to Perth. Choosing the destination takes about four seconds; it’s the easy part. What makes the difference in whether or not we arrive is whether we've got enough fuel in the tank, whether or not we can tell where we are on the map, and whether we have a plan for when something goes wrong somewhere around the Nullarbor, with no reception and when there is a strange warning light blinking somewhere on the dash.
Most goals don't fail at the start, they fail somewhere in the middle. Somehwere in that long, featureless stretch where nothing seems to be happening, and when we can't quite tell if we’re making progress or just burning petrol.
Fuel: Check Why You're Driving
The least interesting question about a goal is what, the most important one is why. Self-determination theory, is a well-established framework in psychology. It draws a line between goals we pursue because they line up with what we actually value, and goals we pursue because we feel we should. That "should" can come from all sorts of places: guilt or shame, often spurred on by a comment someone made that has lodged itself somewhere inconvenient, or an algorithm that's decided we need to see more before-and-after photos this week.
Research shows that people who pursue goals for their own reasons don't necessarily succeed because they have more self-control, often, they just face less temptation to do other things. There's less of an internal argument going on. When we genuinely care about where we're going, it's easier to keep moving. When we're chasing a goal mainly because someone told us it's what we “should” want, every step requires more effort, and when we’re running on gritted-teeth our willpower tends to burn out faster.
If every day feels like an argument with willpower, the problem is less likely to be about discipline, it’s more likley about the goal, or it could be that the way we're pursuing it may not be a good fit. Both will get the car started, but only one can keep it running past Ceduna.
Try saying your goal out loud and listening for the word "should."
"I should lose 5kg"
It isn't really a goal, it's a small accusation wearing a goal costume. Instead try to push yourself a little further, why does this goal actually matter?
"So I can get through a full day at the beach with the kids without needing a lie-down"
Without a “should” it’s a different sentence entirely. Same behaviour, entirely different fuel in the tank.
This doesn't mean you'll suddenly love the process. Psychologists call it identified regulation, the quiet thought of "I don't love this, but it genuinely matters to me", and it's often enough to keep you moving when motivation alone won't cut it.
The same approach applies in relationships.
"We need to stop arguing" runs out of fuel fast.
"We want our home to feel like somewhere we can both raise hard things and still feel respected" will get you a lot further down the road.
The Odometer: Why the Big Goal Is the Wrong Ruler
Say your goal is to run 10km. Last month you could manage one, this month, you can manage three. If 10km is your only measure of success, this still reads as not there. By that logic, climbing halfway up a mountain and sitting in the car park are basically the same thing, neither is the summit. Clearly, our ruler needs adjusting.
Research backs this up: people are more likely to reach their goals when they regularly track progress, and the effect is even stronger when they write it down or share it with someone else.
A better approach measures several things at once:
Outcome: did I reach the eventual target?
Progress: am I closer than when I started?
Process: am I doing the things likely to move me there?
Wellbeing: is chasing this goal adding to my life, or slowly consuming it?
Relationship impact: (where relevant) is how we're pursuing this building connection, or resentment?
This also clarifies what you can control versus merely influence. You can choose to go for today's walk; you can't dictate tomorrow's number on the scales. You can study tonight; you can't guarantee the mark. You can listen differently during an argument; you can't manufacture closeness by Friday through willpower alone.
Someone managing social anxiety might go to a friend's birthday, feel anxious the whole time, stay an hour, and leave. Measured against "socialise without anxiety," that reads as disappointing. Measured against six months ago, when they avoided gatherings entirely, they went, they stayed, they didn't flee. That's not a consolation prize. That's evidence. "Not there yet" and "not making progress" are two very different sentences.
Footsteps: Turning the Compass Into Actual Steps
"I want to feel less stressed" is a perfectly good compass. It's also useless at 3:17pm on a Tuesday when you're trying to work out if anything's actually changing.
Ask yourself: if I were genuinely moving toward this, what would I be doing differently, right now?
"Manage stress better"
Would this mean taking a proper lunch break three days this week.
"Feel more confident"
Would I be contributing one idea in a meeting despite feeling nervous.
"Feel more connected as a couple"
Could we commit to putting our phones away, having 20 minutes of actual conversation after dinner.
Now you've got footsteps to notice, not just a far-off compass bearing.
Plan for the Predictable Potholes
You fully intended to walk after work. Then it rained, work ran late, and the couch made an unusually persuasive case. This is where implementation intentions earn their keep, a simple if–then plan, decided in advance:
"If it's 6pm and I'm wrecked, then I'll do the 10-minute loop instead of the 40-minute one."
You make the decision once, while rested and reasonable, not at 6pm, while neither. Pairing this with mental contrasting (picture the goal going well, then honestly name the likely obstacle) strengthens it further, with supportive evidence across health, academic and relationship goals.
Notice the shape of a good backup plan: it's a downgrade, not a demand. "If I'm exhausted, I'll do the full session anyway" was clearly written by someone who has never actually been exhausted. Twenty minutes instead of cancelling isn't losing, it's keeping the engine turning over.
Think Like a Scientist, Not a Courtroom Judge
When a plan doesn't work, many of us immediately convene a trial. Missed the gym? Clearly no discipline. Another argument? Relationship doomed.
A more useful response is curiosity:
What happened?
What got in the way?
What would I try next time?
If 5:30am exercise keeps failing, the lesson probably isn't that you need more willpower, it's that you hate 5:30am. Changing the plan isn't cheating; it's feedback in action. Try, observe, learn, adjust, try again. A setback becomes information, not a verdict.
In Relationships, Measure Patterns, Not Perfection
Relationships complicate all of this beautifully, now there are two people, two nervous systems, and occasionally two entirely different definitions of "better." One difficult argument doesn't mean the relationship is failing, just as one lovely Saturday doesn't mean every difficulty has vanished.
More useful questions: Are disagreements becoming shorter or less intense? Are we repairing more effectively afterwards? Are moments of warmth becoming more frequent?
One distinction worth protecting deliberately: support is not supervision. "Would it help if I sorted dinner while you went for your walk?" is support. "You said you were exercising today, why aren't you?" starts to sound less like a teammate and more like an auditor. The first builds the very connection you're chasing. The second tends to erode it.
Progress Is a Direction, Not a Verdict
Adjusting course isn't evidence you've failed, it's evidence your feedback loop is working exactly as it should. GPS doesn't apologise when it recalculates. It just quietly finds another way there. Keep the destination in mind, just don't forget to check the dashboard on the way.
