I used to think that hitting rock bottom meant being locked up in a jail cell. I never imagined it could look like achieving good grades while keeping my room tidy.
For me, rock bottom turned into an overwhelming schedule, meticulously organized to distract me from my constant anxiety.
But soon, it morphed into the grim reality I had learned to identify since my childhood.
My rock bottom had a taste that reminded me of neglected teeth.
It felt like my hair, heavy and greasy. Taking a shower turned into an expedition I never found the drive to embark on. I discovered a year-old bag of Halloween candy and a half-finished soda in my room, which ended up being my dinner.
I was hungry, thirsty, and unkempt, living in a developed country. Those around me were left perplexed, shaking their heads and opting for different responses like criticism or prayers, support or avoidance.
I didn’t truly realize I had hit rock bottom until one day in the work break room. I noticed my hair, stiff with dry shampoo and perfume to mask the fact that it hadn’t been washed in days. My smile looked forced, like it was under pressure. My voice cracked and strained for hydration, while my eyes bore bags so pronounced they seemed almost independent.
Rock bottom varies from person to person. The moment I knew I was there was when I looked in the mirror and couldn’t recognize who I was. This isn’t who I am, I thought. I was alive, but aside from my heartbeat, I had little evidence of that.
With depression, it can feel easier to stop fighting. It’s simple to leave the sheets unwashed for too long, avoid showering, and settle for dry shampoo and strong perfume. It’s easy to neglect hydration, find stale chips, and declare them dinner. It’s easy to lie down, staring at the ceiling for hours, achieving a calm heartbeat when it’s too late to go out.
It’s easy to make peace with rock bottom. But therein lies the trap; rock bottom may not feel painful enough to motivate you to move beyond it. It often leads to choosing a dysfunctional life where the desire to make positive changes diminishes.
Rock bottom signifies the lowest point you can encounter. Because it can feel so consistent, free from the anxiety of failure, it can also feel comfortable. Rock bottom becomes a comforting yet lifeless security blanket.
Some individuals construct entire lives while residing at rock bottom. That is perhaps the most frightening aspect.
I embraced rock bottom because it was less daunting to avoid trying than to risk failing. I now understand my time at the bottom wasn’t living; it was merely existing in a state of decline.
Transitioning from rock bottom to the life waiting for me required immense effort. I thought I could effortlessly shift from sleepless nights, candy-filled meals, and missed assignments to a consistent sleep routine, regular meals, completed schoolwork, and stellar grades.
What I discovered is that progress is not about achieving perfection. It isn’t simply about winning or losing. There exists a grey area where good days and bad days coalesce. At times, I manage to focus on my homework, sleep adequately, and eat three balanced meals daily. Other times, I turn in blank assignments or ask the barista for a triple shot of espresso, “Please and thank you.”
However, the true beauty doesn’t lie in the actions or outcomes. It’s in the joy of being alive and having the chance to wake up each day. Nowadays, I experience more good days than bad. Looking back, the contrast between my past unhealthy, depressed state and my current self is striking.
No matter how tidy my room is, how well I perform academically, whether I’m at rock bottom or thriving to my fullest potential, I am thankful to be alive.
I appreciate the chance to try again after each setback and cherish every success as a hard-earned accomplishment.
Take that first step. It’s perfectly okay to love your life.