I’ve reached the one-year anniversary of the night that I hit rock bottom.
The months that followed were the most excruciatingly painful of my entire life. It was like being eviscerated. Unanesthetized surgery on my soul itself. The manner in which I was forced to surrender my delusions and face reality was … sadistic. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Those were load-bearing delusions.
Then eventually as time passed and the dust settled, I began the psychological equivalent of learning how to walk again.
I have a long way to go.
Yet, the silver lining is that I have not only begun to contextualize, process, and understand the misfortunes of my adult life, but my childhood as well. I’ve realized that in light of the circumstances I grew up in, my rock bottom was inevitable without the cultural insights that weren’t available until recently. I accept that, and will do my part to pass on the lessons I learned.
After all, you must never blame yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know.
One year.
Still dirt poor. Still haven’t achieved my dreams. Still not even working on my fiction writing.
And that’s okay.
Because I’ve been sorting out which thoughts are mine and discarding the beliefs that aren’t. I’ve been challenging the foundational rules of my existence and declaring to the Universe, “I don’t want to live this way!”
I don’t want to be invisible, but I also don’t want the exhaustion that comes from being in the spot light. I’m searching for where the middle ground lies. I’m searching for where my authenticity is.
By Autumn Rain 