It’s December 31st, 2018.  Tomorrow marks the start of the New Year.   I don’t make New Year’s resolutions.  I am not one of those types of folks. I often joke that if I did, I’d share a kindred soul to Bridget Jones in this regard, “This year’s New Year’s resolution?  Keep New Year’s resolutions.” But there is something in the air this year where my heart longs to make New Year’s resolutions. I likely won’t. I likely won’t stick to them, even if I make them.  That, or I’ll make them vague enough that if I fail them, I won’t beat myself up. Or, perhaps I’ll just invoke some old (good) habits I used to do regularly, since I’m finally feeling a tinge of empowerment to do so after what feels…