Rock bottom

I used to think I was a regular in this place people often referred to as “Rock bottom”,until now.

There was a time when my world was falling apart for me financially and I could barely afford to put food on the table, I was miserable and was plagued with the idea that I had failed in life, and failed mostly as a parent to my children. I was broken but even then I now believe without a doubt that being broke has never been rock bottom for me because even though it was gut wrenching, food gave me comfort and I still had the energy to dress my face and exit the house. What I thought of as Rock bottom was probably just the mezzanine floor of the building and I was still well on my way to this mythical floor called Rock Bottom.

Then came a time when I assumed heartbreak was it. One of my greatest character flaws is that I organically love hard and with all my heart. So when that love is messed with, I die a little inside. But even in the 4 times that I believe my heart shattered I still found solace in deep-fried chicken, found it at the bottom of a bottle, found it in a sandwich. So clearly, while I may have been going through devastating times, my emotional turmoil has never been rock bottom, it’s probably just been the level one basement because I seem to get up every time and repeat the same mistake, love hard and fervently, be it family and friends.

After meticulous verification I believe this is it. I am numb now, unable to put these feelings in words, feelings of utter worthlessness, feelings of deepest despair, feelings that no food has been able to remedy, sadness that no alcohol has been able to drown. Who knew that the Rock bottom floor would be the penthouse floor? That floor that you know if you jump out the window, you will crash, breaking every bone in your body, blood splattering everywhere, but most of all you would be dead before you hit the ground. I have been here seeming to the world like I am right as rain but struggling to get up in the morning, getting up yes, as it is a mandatory requirement for people to not ask me “are you okay?”. How do I respond to that? “Oh I am dead inside, I have no idea how to turn on the defibrillator so that I can try and revive myself”.

When you get so used to pretending to be okay, you get to a point of total confusion and this is where I am now. Wondering to myself if we could fast forward to the end to see if it was all worth it. Oh and living in a country that was listed as one of the world’s most miserable countries to live, does not make it any better. You can be trying to make a life for yourself but find out that you will keep going round in circles, circles in the mud. Only in my home country do you walk into a place and have someone tell you “oh my word, you have gained so much weight” “are you expecting?”. Thank you very much, it’s not like I am not struggling with the fact that I am a wobbling 210lb piece of flesh. I want to quit my job but I can’t afford to, want to un-alive myself but I was not born to be a quitter and cannot afford to do that to my kids.

This is it. This is rock bottom. I cannot explain what brought me here, I feel it all at once. I feel like I am fading, but while I still have it in me to write I will, maybe one day I will make it out of this place and who knows, I might write a book “Surviving Rock Bottom”, but now, while I am here, I will get up and fake it one more time and another, and another until I figure out how to get out of here.