Struggling with goal-setting systems that make you feel like a failure? You're not alone. After decades of abandoned SMART goals and January resolutions that died by February, I finally found a productivity approach that actually works with human psychology instead of against it.
Dear stupid brain,
This relationship isn't working anymore.
I know we've been together for decades, and you probably think this is just another one of my phases, but I'm serious this time. While you were having perfectionist tantrums and whispering, 'but that's not the original plan!' in my ear, I actually finished things. Big things. I read James Joyce's Ulysses. I finished an introductory Farsi language course. I've built sustainable health habits that don't make me want to hide under a blanket fort every time I think about exercising or flossing.
And you know what you called all my successful adaptations and modifications? 'Cheating'.
Well, I call it 'being successful'.
You gave me decades of abandoned goal lists, January enthusiasm that died by February, and that special kind of misery that comes from believing I was fundamentally broken when it came to achieving anything significant. Your rigid, all-or-nothing approach turned every small setback into a reason to abandon everything.
So I'm breaking up with you and your perfectionist nonsense. I'm seeing someone new now. Someone who celebrates when I show up consistently, even if it's not exactly as originally planned. Someone who understands that life happens, migraines are a thing, and sometimes the best you can do is a modified version of your goal. Her name is Flexibility, and she's introduced me to her four best friends: ROAR goals.
When you start whispering your old lies about how 'real' goals have to be rigid and painful, I'm just going to picture Rexie chomping you.
It's not me, it's you.
Sincerely,
Someone who actually gets things done now
Hello again, prehistoric productivity pioneers!
After that very necessary breakup letter, let me introduce you to the goal-tracking system that actually works for my brain's new relationship with flexibility: ROAR goals.
If you've ever felt like productivity systems were designed for robots instead of real humans, you're going to love this alternative approach to SMART goals.
ROAR isn't just another productivity acronym. Those four letters represent a complete philosophy shift that I made in my quest to find a goal-setting method that I could maintain long term.
For me, the problem with traditional goal-setting approaches was the assumption that I was a perfectly consistent robot who never gets migraines, has family crises, or discovers that she'd rather eat Brussels sprouts than high-fibre cereal at 6 AM. ROAR goals work with the gloriously messy reality of being human.
Instead of demanding perfection, ROAR celebrates persistence. Instead of rigid adherence to original plans, ROAR embraces adaptation. And instead of making you feel like a failure when life happens, ROAR gives you stickers and prehistoric supervisors.
Here's what each letter means:
R – REALISTIC
O – OPTIMISTIC
A – ADAPTABLE
R – REWARDING
Realistic is about discovering the goal-tracking methods that work for the real you, not the person you think you should be. It encourages you to plan your goals around your personality and energy patterns, instead of trying to force yourself to do things that do not come easily or make you miserable.
Here are some examples of this from my ROAR journey so far.
I finally embraced the fact that I am not a morning person and never will be. Just-out-of-bed me is a Crankysaurus Rex for at least one hour. Well, more like two, if I'm being totally honest. Or maybe it's three. Anyway, first thing in the morning sees me stomping around the house, growling at household appliances, cursing the sun for existing, and viewing any activity that requires actual effort as a direct threat to my prehistoric peace. Traditional productivity advice would tell me to 'just become a morning person', but realistic goal-setting acknowledges that some dinosaurs are simply not built for dawn raids.
I also had to admit that some days things weren't going to get done because Life decided to happen in my general direction. Migraines turn up when it's most inconvenient, work gets stressful, and family issues arise, and on many of those days the only thing on my to do list is: 'Get through it. Preferably in one piece'.
Optimistic is about believing success is possible while being kind to yourself. It's the opposite of the harsh 'inner critic' that can sabotage your best efforts. It stresses self-compassion instead of self-criticism.
The problem with an all-or-nothing approach to goals is that it is easy to get off track and never get on again. For me, every time I stopped making progress, I immediately wrote off the entire endeavour as hopeless. I'd failed again, so what's the point, right?
But being Optimistic means choosing to believe that things can still be achieved, even if there are periods of downtime along the way. If I have to put my projects on hold for a week or a month while I'm busy with other priorities, then that's what I do. My goals will still be there when Life decides to go harass someone else for a while.
Adaptable is about taking your circumstances into account and pivoting, if needed. It's okay to change your approach when something isn't working.
Let me say that again louder for the people at the back: It's okay to change your approach when something isn't working.
For years I resisted updating my goals, methods, deadlines or anything else when it came to personal projects. Either I did things exactly as they were written down, or I wouldn't complete them at all. (Spoiler: this always ended in me not completing them.)
It has taken me a long time to realise rigid approaches break under pressure (duh!), but flexible goal-setting methods bend and keep going. Changing your plans isn't giving up – it's problem solving.
My most recent example of this is just after I had started to read James Joyce's Ulysses. I was in no way prepared for the weird and wonderful way this book is presented. It certainly wasn't a case of starting at page one and keeping on reading until I reached the end. I knew that it was supposed to be one of the most difficult books in the English language, but I didn't expect to get the end of a chapter and go, 'Hmm. I wonder what that was about.' Clearly, taking this one page at a time wasn't going to work – not if I wanted to understand the content, anyway.
In the end, I came up with a three-pronged approach that helped me get the most out of the story. First, I listened to one episode of a podcast where two experts summarised a chapter and explained some of the things readers tend to find confusing. Then I picked up my paperback and read it for myself. And finally, I read an online study guide that gave more background and in-depth explanations.
If I hadn't changed the way I approached this goal, I guarantee I would have given up before I reached chapter three. As it is, I stuck with it, got a lot out of it, and really enjoyed the journey. (And if I ever get a female puppy, I am going to name her Molly after one of the characters.)
Rewarding is about giving yourself credit where credit is due, even for the little things. Especially for the little things.
I think, in general, people are used to external rewards – a high grade or 'Well done!' from a teacher at school, a great performance review or salary raise at work. But when it comes to our personal projects and goals, we often forget to celebrate the small wins along the way.
There's ongoing debate in psychology about rewards and motivation. Some studies show that rewards can be highly effective for building habits and maintaining motivation. Others worry about potential downsides – that if you reward yourself for practising piano, you might only practise for the reward rather than developing a genuine love for music.
Here's my take on it, though: at the end of the day, my personal projects take time, energy and commitment. I made an effort to get things done, and sometimes the 'doing' bit was hard. While I do get satisfaction from ticking an item off a list once it's complete, I find that small rewards along the way make it more likely that I will keep going and see the project through to the end. I'm not talking about big rewards, but simply putting a shiny sticker onto one of my tracking sheets.
I started ROAR just over five months ago, and the buzz I get from placing those silly little stickers hasn't worn off yet. And the more stickers I earn, the more I want to earn.
So while the experts continue to debate the psychology of rewards, I'll be over here completing goals, celebrating progress, and adding to my wall-mounted empire of shiny evidence. Sometimes the proof really is in the prehistoric pudding!
The beauty of ROAR goals is that they're adaptable to your own personality and circumstances. Maybe dinosaur supervision isn't your thing – perhaps you prefer unicorns, or robots, or no mascots at all. Maybe stickers feel silly to you, but gold stars or check marks or progress bars make you feel accomplished. The key is finding what makes YOU want to keep going, what makes YOU feel celebrated, and what works with YOUR actual life rather than some fantasy version of yourself.
So experiment! Try different rewards, different tracking methods, different approaches. The only requirement is that it should make you feel good about achieving your goals rather than guilty about not being perfect.
Before I go, I want to acknowledge that traditional productivity methods do work brilliantly for thousands of people. The fact I couldn't get other approaches to work is on me, not the systems.
The most important thing I learned? There's no "wrong" way to achieve your goals if your method actually gets results and feels sustainable. Whether that's traditional SMART goals, bullet journaling, or prehistoric supervision with a T-Rex hand puppet, the best goal-setting system is the one you'll actually stick with – and maybe even enjoy.
Until next time,
Carpe skateboard! 🛹🦖
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