Why I Am Grateful for Rock Bottom

There's no shame in hitting rock bottom. What matters is that we strive to rise daily; what matters is that we endure the pitfalls along the way and become the person we were created to be.

 

I awoke in a fog of despair, not wanting to get out of bed. I knew it wasn't just another bad day. I knew it wasn't just a matter of "getting up and getting over it" because it felt like my body had been drained of energy, leaving me void of any hope of climbing out of the dark, eerie hole I'd found myself in. 

Cradled in a fetal position, sobbing, my heart ached unbearably for answers to the questions circling in my head: How did I get to this place? Who am I? And what is the purpose and meaning of life? 

Through sheer exhaustion, I was compelled to remember her: that strong-willed, tenacious person—who’s never been a quitter but rather a fighter. She was the one I tapped into. She was the one who gave me the fortitude to rise. She was the one who prodded me: "Do you want your story to end at the bottom."

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."- Maya Angelou

It's been over a decade now since I put pen to paper and began writing through the recollections of my emotional baggage, where I've found incredible insights into the experiences that'd shaped me, helping me to lean into the pain, allowing me to move into the acceptance of that pain.

How did I arrive at rock bottom? 

 

In retrospect, I didn't just wake that morning to find myself there. Consequently, I’d been running from myself for years. I hid behind masks. I had built walls so thick around my heart, you would've needed a sledgehammer to beat them down. The truth is, I'd ignored so many red flags that my past was spiraling me down until it eventually landed me at rock bottom.

 

To be frank, no one could have saved me. Not my husband, not my kids, not my friends. I had to be the one to take charge of my life. I had to be the one to throw away the blame game, the pity parties, the "woe is me" attitude, the victim mentality. And it didn't happen overnight. I am still a work in progress. Darkness still exits. But the difference now is: So does God.

Ironically, I'd struggled to believe that God was even there with me in my pain that morning. But I sure believe it now, that He knew it wasn't the end, that my rock bottom was no surprise to Him. It was where I needed to be all along. Only then could He heal me and help rebuild my life in the way He had designed. All I needed to do was reach for His hand and abandon my way of living. In other words, I had to take my hands off the wheel. 

While rock bottom is subjective, what we all have in common are choices: The choice to change, the choice to heal, the choice to seek help, the choice to say, "There is no way my story is ending at the bottom. I am worthy of so much more, and I will scratch and crawl my way out of this dark hole to find me." Or we can choose to stay stuck in the mire.

I can say wholeheartedly today that I've never been more grateful for my rock bottom experience. 

Why?

Because it led me to Christ.

 

Because it forced me to look in the mirror and ask the hard questions.

Because it pulled off my masks, crumbled down walls, ultimately leading to my truest self.

 

Because it taught me about self-love and self-compassion.

And because it gave me insight and understanding into the experiences that had shaped me, imparting the wisdom and knowledge needed to help others.

Perhaps you are reading this and (like I did) feel void of hope. Listen: You are stronger than you think. While the climb to the top won't be easy, while you will make strides one day and feel like quitting the next, keep pushing forward, remembering to take the time to rest and breathe along the way. I assure you: One day you will stand on the summit and shout: "I did it! All the moans and groans to get here were worth it!"

Reawakening Our Core Being

"Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It's about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen." ― Brené Brown

The authenticity Brené Brown speaks about in the above quote is all about choices, and these choices (for me) wasn't attainable until I came into an understanding of who I was, the knowing and the unknowing parts, in search of my core being.

So many of us go through life without being aware our true self is overshadowed by our wounded self, and it can send a false notion that we need "fixing," that something must be wrong with us, that we are broken in some way.

Why?

Because somewhere—along life's path—the need to express and feel and be in touch with our emotions was, in some way, conditioned out of us by traumatic events, especially if these events stemmed from childhood.

Subconsciously, negative defense mechanisms can develop and become part of our personality, but in reality, it isn't the way we heal. Instead, we lose touch with our core being. Our inner growth is stifled. And our own passions and creativity are shielded.

While many factors contribute to the development of negative defense mechanisms, one of the ones I'd locked away from my childhood was the effects of being bullied.

I am the second oldest girl of fourteen siblings. We were known as one of the poorest families in our small community. There were times we barely had enough money for food, let alone brand-name clothing or footwear. Suffice it to say, I didn't fit the "norm"—especially at school—and often fell prey to ridicule and bullying.

In the tender and formative years of my life, my brain had already wired itself to be a certain way: I suffered from low self-esteem, I was an underachiever in school, and I'd trust issues. But being the strong-willed kid that I was, I grew a thick skin and moved on with life. (Or so I thought.)

The ramifications from my bullies by no means left me unscathed in adulthood. For years, the sting of their words continued to play havoc on my self-esteem, shaping the way I saw the world, myself, and my relationships. The "thick skin" of my youth had now become impenetrable, not just from the outside but from the inside as well. So, if I wasn't allowing others in or allowing my inner core to be seen, how could I possibly be authentic?

Around my mid-forties, I began to question the pathway of my existence. On the surface, I was blessed with a great life, but there was a longing in my soul—a gnawing ache that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I'd no idea how God would mysteriously move in my life when my daughter presented me with the book "The Purpose Driven Life: What On Earth Am I Here For," by Rick Warren. In fact, it was so life-altering, it became the springboard that eventually led me to Christ.

Amazingly enough, through God's love and forgiveness, the walls that once shielded me ultimately became the doorway back to the authenticity of my core being. And, in turn, life has handed me a gift: The sensitivity toward those who are bullied and ridiculed and discriminated against. The deepest and truest parts of who I am today.

The hurts we endure become like dark clouds that move in and out of our lives, clouds that (at times) become so heavy they rain tears of sadness upon us. But as we begin to slowly process and let go of those dark places, rays of sunshine will pierce through, offering us hands of hope for the future; a future where our truest self has reawakened and is no longer fearful of being seen.