Every January, millions of people wake up on January 1st and assume they're ready for change. They're not.

That's not a judgment. It's just how change actually works.

Most resolutions fail not because people lack willpower or discipline. They fail because the person trying to change isn't at the same starting point as everyone else. Some people are just beginning to think about changing. Others are actively trying but hitting roadblocks. Still others have been doing the work for months and are finally seeing it stick.

In the 1980s, psychologist James Prochaska studied how people actually quit smoking. He noticed something surprising: the most successful people weren't the ones who quit cold turkey on day one. They were the ones who moved through a predictable series of stages—thinking about it, preparing, taking action, maintaining the change. He called this the Transtheoretical Model of Change, or the Stages of Change. And here's the critical insight: people in different stages need completely different support. Pushing someone in the "thinking about it" stage to jump straight into action almost guarantees failure. But understanding which stage they're in—and what moves them forward from that stage—dramatically increases their chances of success.

A key part of this model is something called the pros and cons balance. In the early stages, the perceived costs of changing (effort, discomfort, risk) feel bigger than the benefits. As someone moves through the stages, this balance shifts. Eventually, the benefits become more real and important than the costs. Understanding this balance is what separates people who fail at resolutions from those who succeed.

What if you understood where you actually are in the change process? Not where you think you should be. Where you actually are right now.

We're going to follow two people through this framework. Jim wants to lose 30 pounds. He's tried before and it never stuck. Sally wants to build strength. She's been talking about getting into fitness for three years, but it stays abstract. Both are standing at the same calendar date, but they're not in the same place when it comes to actual readiness for change.

As you read their stories through each stage, you'll recognize where you are—and more importantly, what actually moves you forward.

Precontemplation: No, Not Me

Jim tells himself he's not really overweight—"this is just how my body is built." When his doctor mentioned his weight at his last checkup, Jim half-listened and dismissed it. His wife sometimes suggests he'd feel better if he moved more, but Jim doesn't see himself as "an exercise person." That's not who he is. Besides, he's tried diets before and they're miserable. So he's made peace with it: This is just who I am. When uncomfortable information creeps in—a comment from a coworker, noticing he can't climb stairs without being winded—his mind quickly dismisses it or reframes it. He doesn't think about it much, and he certainly isn't considering changing.

Sally has never seen herself as the "gym type." She's watched her more athletic friends get into fitness and always thought, That's just not for me. When she sees someone getting strong, she doesn't think I could do that. She thinks They're one of THOSE people. The idea of strength training feels foreign, intimidating, not connected to who she is. She's made an unconscious decision: this isn't for her. So she doesn't think about it, and when fitness comes up in conversation, she's quick to dismiss it—"I don't have the discipline for that" or "I'm just not built for it."

Both Jim and Sally are in Precontemplation. They're not considering change because, in their minds, change isn't needed. At this stage, the costs feel much bigger than the benefits—and the mind actively avoids seeing the benefits at all. The identity (I'm not a fitness person, this is just who I am) protects them from uncomfortable information. When people try to push them toward action—suggesting they sign up for a gym, or mentioning health risks—it triggers resistance because it threatens their current identity. The mind defends it.

What actually moves people forward at this stage: Not action plans. Not logic. Not guilt. Instead, change happens when something pierces through the protective shield. For Jim, it might be a health scare—his colleague has a heart attack and Jim can't dismiss it as "someone else's problem" anymore. Suddenly the uncomfortable information is unavoidable. For Sally, it might be a moment where she can't avoid seeing herself differently—maybe she realizes she's been using the same excuse for years, or someone she respects does something she thought wasn't "for people like her."

What NOT to do at this stage: Don't create an action plan. Don't sign up for a gym membership. Don't try to convince someone they have a problem they don't see. Jim signing up for a January gym membership while he's still in Precontemplation—while he still believes "exercise people are just not who I am"—is almost guaranteed to fail. He'll quit the moment it feels hard, not because he lacks discipline, but because the gym never fit his identity in the first place. The mind won't let him sustain something that contradicts how he sees himself.

But then something happens that pierces through the protective shield. A health scare. An unavoidable moment of clarity. The protective identity can no longer defend against the information. And suddenly, change becomes impossible to ignore.

Contemplation: To Be, Or Not To Be

Jim's colleague has a heart attack in early December. He's the same age as Jim, same build. Jim can't unsee it. The protective shield cracks. Suddenly Jim knows something's off. He starts thinking about it constantly—what if that had been him? What would his family do? But as soon as he gets serious about it, fear kicks in. I don't know where to start. I've failed at this before. What if I can't stick with it? So he oscillates. One moment he's convinced he needs to change. The next moment he's exhausted just thinking about it. He finds himself saying, "I know I should do something, but it's just not the right time right now."

Sally sees her old college friend—strong, confident, clearly someone who trains regularly. Something clicks. I could be like that. But immediately doubt floods in. But I'm not a gym person. It's too expensive. I don't have the discipline. She catches herself watching fitness videos, imagining what it would feel like to be strong. Then she scrolls past them and thinks, Who am I kidding? The desire is real, but so is the fear. She feels overwhelmed and unsure. "I really should get into fitness," she tells herself, "but I'm just not ready yet."

Both Jim and Sally are in Contemplation. The protective identity has cracked—they now know something's off—but they're stuck between desire and fear. The benefits and costs feel roughly equal now, creating paralysis. They can see reasons to change, but they're also acutely aware of all the reasons not to. This isn't indifference anymore. It's inner conflict.

What moves them forward:

Clarifying their "why." Jim needs to go deeper than surface fears. What does becoming someone who takes care of his health actually mean to me? What does it make possible? When the benefits become personally meaningful—not "I should be healthier," but "I want to be present and strong for my family"—the desire side strengthens and ambivalence weakens.

Reducing the perceived cost. The idea of "change" feels massive and risky. But when Sally imagines it differently—not "overhaul my life," but "try one strength class and see how it feels"—the barrier shrinks. Breaking change into smaller, doable steps makes it feel less like a threat to her identity and more like something she can actually try.

Normalizing fear. Jim's terror that he'll fail again isn't a sign he shouldn't try. It's normal. Knowing that others feel the same fear—that hesitation is part of the process, not a reason to stop—helps him push past it.

Imagining a future identity. Sally spends time thinking: What would it feel like to be someone who trains? Not a gym person, but someone who's strong? Imagining that version of herself—not as a fantasy, but as a real possibility—shifts something. The internal dialogue changes from "I'm not a fitness person" to "I'm someone figuring out how to become one."

What NOT to do at this stage: Don't push them into action. Don't sign up for a gym or commit to a diet. The ambivalence isn't a sign they're ready; it's a sign they're thinking, which is progress, but action without resolving the conflict will backfire. The moment it gets hard, the fear side wins and they quit.

Also: don't stay here forever. Contemplation can become comfortable—you're thinking about change without actually risking anything. Sally has been in this stage for three years, stuck in the "I should, but..." loop. At some point, exploring your real reasons needs to tip the balance enough to move forward.

And when it does—when the desire side finally feels stronger than the fear—something shifts. The internal debate quiets. The ambivalence eases. They stop asking "should I?" and start asking "how do I?" That's when they move into Preparation.

Preparation: I have My Shoes Tied Tight

By late December, Jim has done his homework. He's talked to his doctor about what would be safe. He's looked into whether hiring a trainer makes sense financially. He's started thinking about which changes feel doable (walking more, cutting back on late-night snacking) versus which ones feel extreme (completely eliminating foods he loves). He's picked a start date: January 10th. Not January 1st—he wanted a few days to prepare his kitchen and his mindset. He told his wife about the plan so she can support him, and more importantly, so he's accountable.

Sally's in Preparation too. She's researched three gyms in her area and visited them. She's watched YouTube videos about beginner strength training. She's bought workout clothes that fit well and make her feel good. She's set a start date: January 8th. She even told her sister, who now checks in with her about it.

This is Preparation. Both Jim and Sally are building confidence through small, concrete steps. They're not doing the full thing yet, but they're removing barriers and creating conditions that make action more likely. The benefits of changing now feel more important and real than the costs. The barriers haven't disappeared, but they feel manageable.

What moves them forward:

Structure. Specifics reduce anxiety. Jim doesn't just say "I'll start eating better." He picks January 10th. He talks to his doctor about what's actually safe. He researches which healthy options exist near airports for his travel weeks. The dates, the steps, the specifics—they make it feel doable instead of overwhelming.

Support. Jim tells his wife about his plan, making it real and external. Sally tells her sister. They're not doing this alone in their heads anymore. Someone else knows, cares, and can check in. That builds confidence because the change feels supported, not like a solitary white-knuckle effort.

Quick wins. Jim starts researching and completing small steps—talking to his doctor, checking his schedule, planning his start date. Each small action is a win that proves he's capable. Sally visits gyms, watches beginner videos, buys workout clothes. These aren't the big change yet, but they're evidence that she can follow through, which builds self-efficacy.

A commitment moment. Jim doesn't just think about starting January 10th—he says it to his wife. "I'm starting my walking routine on January 10th." That verbal commitment, that declaration of identity, helps lock it in. Sally tells her sister the date and the gym she's joining. Once it's said out loud, it becomes more real and harder to back away from.

Jim encounters an obstacle here: His work schedule is unpredictable. Some weeks he travels, and his hotel has no kitchen. He could use this as a reason to wait—"I'll start when my schedule settles down." Instead, he thinks ahead. He researches healthy options near airports. He decides he can walk wherever he is, even in a hotel. He's solving problems before they derail him. The pros are strong enough that he's troubleshooting, not quitting.

Sally encounters an obstacle too: The gym she wanted to join is more expensive than she thought. She considers giving up. But instead of scrapping the plan, she finds a gym that's cheaper and further away, then figures out how to make it work logistically. She's still in Preparation, but she's troubleshooting. The pros (building strength, identity, her own time) are strong enough to motivate problem-solving.

What NOT to do at this stage: Don't start the full action yet, even though you're tempted. This stage feels urgent, and people often want to skip it and jump straight to "doing it." But Preparation is where you build the confidence that makes action sustainable. Jim doesn't start his eating changes on January 1st even though he's ready; he waits until January 10th when he's mentally prepared and has a plan. That small difference will matter.

Also: don't make it complicated. Jim isn't researching every possible diet. He's picking one simple approach that fits his life. Sally isn't watching 50 YouTube videos; she's researching enough to feel confident, then she stops researching and starts doing.

And then the date arrives. All the preparation converges into a single decision: start. The moment shifts from planning to doing.

Action: You're Doing It Peter!

January 10th arrives. Jim starts. He walks 20 minutes every morning before work. He stops buying chips at the grocery store. When his coworkers order pizza for lunch, he brings a sandwich. It's not perfect—he still eats his favorite foods, just less often—but he's doing it. Some days he feels great and motivated. Other days it feels like a slog, and he has to remind himself why he started.

January 8th, Sally begins. Her first strength session is harder than she expected. She's sore the next day. She questions whether this is "worth it." She shows up anyway. By week two, she can feel herself getting stronger. It's not dramatic yet, but it's real. She's building momentum.

This is Action. Jim and Sally aren't just thinking or planning anymore. They're actually changing their behavior, day by day.

What moves them forward:

Early success paired with accountability. Jim walks every day that first week—he didn't miss once. That's a win that proves to him: I can actually do this. He tells his wife about it, and she notices and acknowledges it. Sally completes her first four workouts as planned, and her sister checks in: "How'd it go?" That accountability—someone outside herself witnessing and celebrating the success—reinforces the belief that the new behavior works.

Coping strategies for stress or setbacks. By week two, Jim gets sick and misses three days of walking. Instead of thinking I've failed, I should quit, he has a plan: I'll get back tomorrow. Sally has a stressful week at work and only makes it to the gym twice instead of four. She's learned not to spiral—she goes twice, that's still progress. Having these coping strategies means setbacks don't derail momentum.

Positive emotional feedback. The real reward isn't the scale or the mirror—it's how Jim feels. By week three, he's sleeping better. He has more energy. He feels calmer. Those positive feelings are the reward loop that cements the habit. For Sally, it's the physical sensation—she can feel herself getting stronger. Her body feels different in a good way. That positive emotional feedback is what keeps them showing up when motivation is low.

Visible proof they're changing. Jim isn't obsessing over the scale, but he notices his clothes fit differently. He's more aware of his body in a positive way. Sally can do two more pushups than she could two weeks ago. She's stronger. That visible, measurable proof—whether it's performance metrics, how clothes fit, or compliments from people who notice—tells the brain: This is working. Keep going.

What NOT to do at this stage: Don't expect immediate dramatic results. Jim doesn't expect to lose 30 pounds in three weeks. He's focusing on the behavior (walking, eating differently) not obsessing over the scale. Sally doesn't expect to look like a bodybuilder by February. She's tracking that she's getting stronger, not comparing herself to Instagram fitness influencers. All-or-nothing thinking kills momentum here.

By six months, something fundamental has shifted. The actions that felt effortful in week one have become routine. The identity has started to integrate. The behavior is no longer "something Jim and Sally are doing"—it's becoming part of who they are.

Maintenance: Keep Calm and Carry On

Six months in, Jim's lost 18 pounds. More importantly, eating better is becoming automatic. He doesn't have to white-knuckle his way through lunch anymore—he naturally chooses the grilled chicken over the burger. Walking is part of his morning routine, like brushing his teeth. He still faces obstacles (business dinners, holiday temptations, busy weeks), but he's developed ways to manage them. He's more confident now, partly because he's built a track record of showing up even when it's hard.

Sally's been training for seven months. What started as a goal ("get stronger") has become part of who she is. She's the person who goes to the gym. She has a community there now—people she sees regularly, trainers who know her name, a few friendships that formed around lifting. When stress happens (a difficult project at work, a family argument), her instinct now is to go to the gym, not to sit on the couch. It's her outlet, her identity, her anchor.

This is Maintenance. The change isn't new anymore. It's integrated into their lives. The temptation to go back to the old way has decreased significantly.

What moves them forward:

Identity reinforcement. Jim doesn't think I'm on a diet. He thinks I'm someone who takes care of my health. Sally doesn't think I have to work out. She thinks I'm strong. That shift in identity is what keeps the behavior anchored when willpower fades. The habit becomes part of who they are, not something they're doing.

Routine and environment. Jim's morning walk is built into his schedule like brushing his teeth—it requires almost no decision-making. Sally's gym sessions are scheduled at the same time each week. The routine removes the friction. The environment supports it (Jim's walking shoes are by the door, Sally's gym bag is packed). Systems and structure mean the behavior happens without constant willpower.

Mastery goals. At six months, Jim isn't focused on "don't gain the weight back." He's thinking What if I add strength training? What if I run a 5K? Sally isn't worried about losing her progress; she's thinking Can I lift heavier? Can I do a pull-up? The shift from defensive (protect what you've built) to expansive (what's next?) prevents the stagnation and boredom that kills long-term change.

Community. Jim joined a walking group. Sally's gym became her space, her people. When they're tempted to skip or slip back, the community keeps them accountable—not through judgment, but through belonging. The community also reflects and reinforces their new identity. Jim is "the guy who walks every morning." Sally is "one of the strong ones." That identity mirroring is powerful.

As Jim and Sally continue beyond the first year, something shifts. The behavior stops being something they maintain and becomes something they simply are.

Termination: It's Just Who You Are

By year two and beyond, Jim doesn't think about his eating habits anymore. He naturally chooses whole foods. Walking isn't something he "does"—it's woven into his life. When business travel comes up, he automatically finds stairs to climb or parks a block away. His body is no longer a problem to solve; it's just the vessel he inhabits. He's never tempted to go back to his old patterns. The idea of giving up his morning walks feels as foreign as the idea of eating junk food all day. It's not willpower anymore. It's just who he is.

Sally, years into her training, isn't focused on "maintaining strength" anymore. She's set new goals—competing in a local powerlifting meet, mentoring newer lifters at her gym. Strength training isn't a goal or even a habit. It's part of her identity as thoroughly as her career or her relationships. She can't imagine a life without it, not because she's forced to, but because it's integral to who she's become. The fear that she couldn't sustain it—which felt so real in Contemplation—is ancient history.

Both Jim and Sally are in Termination. The behavior is completely integrated into their identity and lifestyle. The pros so far outweigh the cons that it's not a balance anymore—it's just the default. The temptation to revert to old patterns has essentially disappeared. The change is permanent not because they're white-knuckling it, but because they've become people for whom the new behavior is simply normal.

What keeps them here:

Effortless identity. The behavior no longer requires thought or willpower. Jim doesn't wake up and decide to skip his walk—he wakes up and walks. Sally doesn't negotiate with herself about going to the gym. The behavior is as automatic as brushing teeth.

Continued mastery and evolution. Jim and Sally haven't stagnated. Jim is exploring strength training. Sally is mentoring others. By expanding and evolving within their practice, they keep it alive and engaging. The change doesn't become boring because there's always a next edge to explore.

Integrated lifestyle. These behaviors aren't separate from the rest of their lives—they're woven through everything. Jim's health supports his work performance and his presence with his family. Sally's strength is part of how she moves through the world. The behavior serves their larger life, not just itself.

Knowing they've changed. At this stage, they have years of evidence that they can do this. Jim has weathered business dinners, vacations, stressful periods, and he's always come back. Sally has maintained her practice through job changes, relationship shifts, and life chaos. That evidence is unshakeable. They know they can sustain this.

Moving Backward Isn't Failure

Here's what actually happens in real life: Jim gets the flu in July. He's out for a week, then slowly gets back. A stressful project at work throws him off, and he skips his walks for two weeks. For a moment, he feels like he's failed. He panics that he'll slide all the way back to where he started.

He doesn't. He identifies that he's in a rougher version of Preparation or Contemplation—remembering why walking matters, planning how to fit it back in—and then returns to Action. It's a small setback, not a collapse.

Sally travels for work and can't access her gym for three weeks. She comes back heavier and weaker than before. She could quit here. Instead, she realizes she needs to troubleshoot—travel-friendly workouts, finding gyms in hotels, staying consistent even when her routine is disrupted. She moves back into Preparation mode for a week, then back to Action.

This is the real secret about change: it's not linear. Life happens. Circumstances change. Motivation fluctuates. But understanding where you are at any given moment tells you exactly what to do next.

If you're stuck thinking about change but not acting—you're in Contemplation. Explore your real reasons. Imagine your future. Tip the balance.

If you've slipped back from Action to Preparation—you haven't failed. You've gathered new information. Your original plan might not fit your actual life. Preparation is where you regroup and adjust.

The people who sustain change aren't those who never stumble. They're the ones who recognize where they are and know what moves them forward.

What Comes Next

As you read Jim and Sally's stories, you recognized yourself somewhere. The question now isn't "where am I?"—it's "what do I do now?"

If you're in Precontemplation: Stop feeling guilty about not being ready. You're not broken; you're protecting yourself. When the shield cracks—when the information becomes unavoidable—you'll move forward. Until then, stay open to noticing what matters to you.

If you're in Contemplation: You're in the tension, and that's real work. Don't jump to action. Instead, sit with your real reasons. What does this change actually mean for your life? Clarify that, and the ambivalence will ease.

If you're in Preparation: You're building the foundation. Keep going. Pick a specific date. Make concrete plans. Tell someone. These small steps are building the confidence that makes action stick.

If you're in Action: You're doing the hard daily work. Focus on progress, not perfection. Notice the small wins. Manage setbacks as information. The behavior doesn't have to feel easy yet—it just has to happen.

If you're in Maintenance: You've weathered enough obstacles that you know you can do this. Keep evolving. Set new goals. Build community. Let the behavior become part of who you are.

If you're in Termination: You already know this. The change is you now. The real gift is understanding what you've done—so you can teach it to others, and so you can apply the same principles to the next edge you want to explore.

The Real Power

The real power of understanding the stages of change is this: It's not about willpower or discipline. It's about knowing where you are and taking the next right step. Not the step you think you should take. The step that actually matches where you are.

And that might be the most important realization you have about change this year.