I hate making New Year's resolutions. I don't think I've managed to follow through on one over the course of my entire life. I haven't made a resolution in years, largely because it's a sure-fire path to failure and, by extension, depression and self-loathing.
This is not to say I don't support the concept; the cusp of a new year is an excellent time to reflect on the previous 365 days and make some sort of conscious effort to improve upon them over the next 365. The problem is I inevitably set impossibly high goals for myself. Like losing 50 pounds. Or excercising 5 days a week. These kinds of expectations are clearly unrealistic for mere mortals such as myself, but I get swept up in the moment and the next thing I know I'm swearing off chocolate. As if.
So my more recent approach is to congratulate myself on getting through another year in customer service where I shed no blood or tears (mine or another's), appreciate the wonderful people I'm truly lucky to have in my life, and be thankful I have my health, a roof over my head, and a job that pays me decently well.
Next year's chips will fall where they may and hopefully in another 365 days I'll be counting all these same blessings again and looking forward to another year of them.