Goals and Change, Minus the Shame
Lessons about mindset and community
“Let’s review the goals you set last year!”
I know this ritual. My son’s Taekwondo studio focuses on a personal development theme each month, and naturally, January brings talk of goals. Students in the Leadership program, like my son, are required to write a list of goals for both Taekwondo and life outside the studio. The kids submit their goals to their instructors, who help them stay on track throughout the year.
This is our seventh January at the studio, so I knew the goals conversation was coming. And fundamentally, I like that the kids are learning how to be more self-directed and translate desires into action plans. It’s made a difference in my son’s ability to effectively chase goals that are months or years away—no small feat when you consider how long those timeframes seem to children.
Last night, however, the ritual got an upgrade: instead of just talking about last year’s goals, the head instructor pulled out the kids’ goal sheets and checked on their progress on each goal.
My stomach dropped. I have never been so glad to not be a Taekwondo student as I was in that moment. And that includes when they’re doing planks and burpees.
As I thought about my goals from last year, my body registered shame. So many of my goals went unmet last year—by a lot. I never even started some of them. How mortifying, I thought, to have your goals reviewed in public this way.
As I witnessed my reaction, I was struck by how the kids seemed to be responding very differently from me. They were matter of fact about obstacles they faced and goals that weren’t met. They smiled about goals achieved, chuckled about plans that changed, proudly delineated their progress toward mileposts that are still months or years in the future. There were no visible signs of shame or embarrassment, and according to my son, neither he nor his friends found the exercise to be emotional in any way.
How did they do that? And why was my reaction so different?
I suspect that there were at least three factors that made this a non-shaming experience for the students:
1. Spaciousness. The instructors give the students explicit permission, year-round, to share both their achievements and their misses. As long as a student is making their personal best effort, there is no such thing as failure. The emphasis is on being a better version of yourself, even among those like my son who compete at the national or world level. Wins get celebrated but so does setting a personal best or having the courage to take a chance. Goals are your guides, not a sign of your worth.
2. Flexibility. The instructors model ways that goals that are set in January can be changed at any time. Students are encouraged to consider their reasons for changing goals and making a new plan. They are never forced to stick with a goal that no longer makes sense for them. And new goals are welcomed at any time.
3. Community. One of the things that sets our studio apart from others I’ve seen is the genuine sense of community and caring that starts at the top. Our instructors emphasize being a good sport, looking out for your friends, cheering on each other, and helping each other grow. Winning is secondary (although a lot of that happens, too). When a group is invested in supporting each person’s individual growth and in having fun in the process, there is emotional safety to explore one’s goals. Students know that they, like their instructors, will always have a community rallying around them, regardless of whether they meet all their goals, none of them, or something in between.
Lest you think otherwise, there is a definite streak of competitiveness that runs through every one of my son’s instructors, who include world champions and Team USA members. Most of the students are competitive, too.
But they avoid falling into the comparison trap, and that’s a skill that I’m definitely still learning (and a goal of mine).
Competitive people can push themselves to achieve while refraining from comparing their worth to that of other people. Winning does not make you better than someone else. And not reaching a goal does not mean you are a failure as a person.
Comparison is not a prerequisite for meeting your goals.
I was raised in a family and a culture where life was zero-sum. There were winners and losers. Competitiveness and comparison were inextricably intertwined. If you weren’t the best, you were nothing.
And I tried to live that way as a child. Play became high-stakes work. School, extracurriculars, jobs? Life or death, or so they seemed.
As a sensitive person, I was never going to fare well under those conditions. Anxiety was the inevitable result of never being allowed to savor my accomplishments or do something without an emphasis on perfection.
I’m wired to cheer on other people, not to “best” them. Winning, reaching my goals? They felt kind of gross when the emphasis was on beating others. Yet how was I supposed to feel secure in my worth if I didn’t compare “favorably” to other people?
No wonder goals are still a sticky subject for me, despite the efforts I’ve made to change my relationship to competition and to let go of comparisons.
The zero-sum mindset sneaks up on me. It’s present in the moments where I feel shame over my progress toward my goals. It hovers over me when I get focused on how fast my business is growing, instead of how aligned my business feels with my values and priorities. It whispers to me that I should avoid trying new things that I may not instantly do well.
I want to loosen its grip.
If I look at my adult life, I’ve learned how to create spaciousness and flexibility around my goals. I’m generally capable of adapting my goals to my changing life. I’ve gotten much better at refraining from comparing myself to others. It’s an imperfect process, but one that suits me so much more than the win-lose world from which I came.
As for community? That bears continued improvement. I’ve made strides in intentionally forging relationships with people with whom I share values around goals, change, competition, cooperation, and allowing each person to have. I’m learning to be more like the Taekwondo students—matter of fact, honest, real, about my life. I’m discovering in my body that I can share what I perceive as my shortcomings without being shamed by others—or myself.
Building a community of kindred spirits takes time, but I see how it’s happening in my life. Likewise, undoing familial and cultural patterns is a slow process. It can only happen through connection with other people. But I’m so content to be on this journey of finding new ways to set and achieve goals and relate to other people.
And that contentment? That is my North Star. When I lose my sense of being content with my goal-setting process, it’s surely a sign that I’m out of alignment with my true self. It’s a sign that I need to shake off the old conditioning and come back to myself.
So, as I think about my goals—past, current, and future—I’ll be tuning into how content I feel with my process. I will gently but firmly redirect myself away from focusing on outcomes. I’ll name the old conditioning that leads to making comparisons to other people. And I’ll stay in community with other people who are navigating change in the way that I desire to do.
Going it alone isn’t a viable option. The old way of doing things won’t take me somewhere new. Community is the essential part of how I’m setting goals and making changes in my life.
What about you? What is the North Star that will guide your change process? How are you relating to themes of goals, comparison, and community? Please let me know in the comments.
If you’d like to go deeper into the topic of change and goals, please join me in community with other sensitive people at the next Soundings Circle on Wednesday, January 8, 2025, from 7-8 PM Eastern. We’ll explore using prompted writing and guided imagery. There will be ample opportunities to share and connect with kindred spirits. I hope to welcome you into the circle!
Lori, your reflection on goals and community speaks to me in a way I didn’t expect, especially today. I’ve never truly set goals for myself. Life has delivered so many blows, repeatedly catapulting me into new orbits, often in ways I couldn’t foresee or control.
Just today, I was forced into yet another orbit—bankruptcy looming, personal loss piling up, and my recovery from CFS and PTSD feeling fragile under the weight of it all. What I’ve learned is that I can’t always shape what happens, but I can choose how I respond to it, how I navigate this new space.
Instead of goals, I’ve turned to setting intentions. They feel more fluid, open to interpretation, and aligned with my inner state. Intentions leave room for the unknown while still giving me direction. Reading your post today reminded me of the power of community and why I keep returning to spaces like this—to connect, reflect, and keep moving forward.
Lori, I would have been freaking out, too, if I had witnessed this public discussion of personal goals. I'm surprised none of the children found it disturbing. I love setting goals and don't feel shame if I don't achieve them, but it's a private endeavor. It would have been different in earlier years in situations where I may have failed to succeed. I love how you have reframed goals so they work for you.