There’s something special about the turn of a new year. I enjoy watching it play out on social media. I love to see people acknowledge the things they’ve survived and turn with a hopeful eye to the new year. It’s a white page waiting for the first strokes of paint to color it beautiful, an empty journal waiting for the first words of prose to fill it, a blank staff ready for the opening notes of a new melody. December 31st feels like standing on a precipice, waiting to take the first step into something exciting and new. And then sometimes the clock strikes 12, and you get slapped in…