Rock-Bottom May Be the Fresh Start I’ve Been Waiting For

At least that’s what I learned from J.K. Rowling.

Clink, clink! Glasses harmonize in unison as a group of my friends and I toast to nothing more than being outside together on a beautiful spring evening at a rooftop bar in the city. We’re smiling, tan. I’m rocking a romper I’d just saved in my Shein shopping cart.

Suddenly, I hear another clink. And then a loud crash.

The rooftop bar and my friends’ smiling faces slowly fade away, replaced by the image of my cat charging out of my bedroom, leaving the mess of a knocked over water cup on my nightstand in his wake.

The smell of Clorox wipes waft into my bedroom as my mom begins her nightly cleaning, vigorously scrubbing each surface in the room next to mine. It’s my brother’s old room that nobody ever goes into. These days, you can’t be too sure.

Reality hits me like a splash of cold water to the face.

I’d been quaran-daydreaming again.

Six months ago, I moved home to take care of my diabetic dad after he suffered a stroke. The doctors predicted he would walk again in 16 months, and would possibly never be able to use his arm again. With lots of hard work, patience, and frequent nagging, he started walking and driving after four months. It hasn’t been easy, but he’s made an amazing recovery.

During that time, I decided to leave my position as a special education teacher. The uncertainty of my dad’s health combined with my desire to transition to a different career path made this the most aligned choice for me, but it hasn’t come without its difficulties.

Here I am. An unemployed 29-year-old with a Master’s degree in education, living at home. By home I mean: my roommates are my parents. I wouldn’t exactly call us The Three Musketeers, but we’re making it work.

My savings have dwindled. The check engine light on my car is on more often than off. As I write this, I’m periodically icing the 8 or so swollen bites on my arm sustained while trying to take my indoor cat outside for an afternoon romp in the yard. He’s doing fine, and will no longer be subject to my quarantine high jinks.

I’m dating someone whom I have strong feelings for — and who also happens to live halfway across the world. I’ve known him for years, but hadn’t seen him in a while. We started dating after he came to California and we went on an epic two-week road trip. But now that he’s back in his home country — there’s no way of knowing when we’ll be able to see each other again. Facetime for the win, for now.

I’m starting two career ventures that have not yet quite taken off, in the hopes that I can finally experience what I’ve been craving my entire adult life — the freedom, creativity, and joy that come with being my own boss. It’s requiring me to put myself out there in ways I haven’t done before and do things like this. Things that have no guarantee of success but that I have to do anyways because I’ll never know if I don’t try.

And to exacerbate it all — a global pandemic has brought the world as we know it to a screeching halt. Mama Earth is quite literally restructuring, regenerating, and recalibrating. Only recently did it occur to me that while my process is not as charming or beautiful as Mama Earth’s — maybe I’m restructuring, regenerating, and recalibrating myself.

In other words, I’ve hit a rock-bottom.

Rock-bottom looks different for everyone. Whether you’re a CEO or a housewife, you’ve undeniably rock-bottomed at some point in your life.

In my current rock-bottom, I’m facing my biggest fears and darkest nightmares — at the same time.

What can I say? My hyper-vigilant and goal-oriented self did not expect to be almost 30, living at her parents’, care-taking and undergoing a major career transition during a worldwide pandemic while navigating a long-distance romance.

At times it’s terrifying, frustrating, and overwhelming. But it’s also exciting and liberating as all hell.

I spent a lot of time worrying and doubting myself. I wondered,

“Is it too late for me to pursue a different career path?”

“What will my co-workers, parents, and friends think of me?”

“What if this doesn’t work?”

“Who am I to try this?”

As I live through these fears in real time, I notice the loudest criticism is always in my mind. And since I’ve reached a personal rock-bottom, the minimal criticism that I do get from others now feels pretty insignificant.

When your fears materialize into your current reality, and you have nothing left to do but face them and keep on living, you get this feeling of a new lease on life.

You’re busy wading in the dark, shadowy depths of those rocks when it hits you: [Insert worst fear here] happened, and I’m still here, so now what?

Well, ‘Now What’ can be anything you want.

Seriously. You get to choose. You get to shape your life however you want to. The alternative being to stay stuck where you are. No thank you, next!

I’m not saying rock-bottom and the subsequent trajectory are easy. You can’t drink, exercise, eat, meditate, or socialize away a rock-bottom. You have to find the message in the messy. The only way to do that is to dig deep within yourself, and you might not like what you see. When you find that message, you’ll need to put in some effort, make some changes, and take daily actions to get to where you want to go.

There will be days where you feel like you’ve rock-bottomed all over again. There will be days where you oscillate between zen goddess and zombie. And it’s all good. Maneuvering a rock-bottom can be tricky, but it’s always worth it. Trust me when I say: those of us who choose to do the dirty self-work will be rewarded.

J.K. Rowling is known for getting countless rejections pitching that famous book series she wrote, all while suffering major traumas in her personal life. She said,

“Rock-bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”

I’m not sure what’s going to happen as I continue my ascent up this big ole rock. I could fail. I could succeed. I could end up with my happily ever after. I could renounce all of my possessions and go live off-grid in the Santa Cruz mountains. The bottom line is, now that I’ve reached my rock-bottom, the only way to go is all the way back up.