Rock Bottom Is Solid Ground
They say you have to hit rock bottom to change. I used to think that was a death sentence. Now I know it’s where foundations get poured. When I lost everything—my pride, my job, my reputation, even my will to live—I didn’t feel strong. I felt stripped. Hollow. Like my whole life had been a mask, and now there was nothing left behind it but shame and silence. But funny thing about rock bottom? Ain’t no lower to fall. You stop scrambling. Stop pretending. And if you’re still breathing, you start building. You find out what you’re really made of—not the persona you wore, but the soul you buried. And you start laying bricks with bare hands and borrowed grace. I didn’t rise in a flash of light. I rose in inches. I rose in silence. I rose with shaky hands and ugly cries and cold coffee mornings where I scribbled half-prayers in a dollar store journal. And every inch of that rise was holy. So if you’re at the bottom right now, I won’t lie to you: It’s rough. I...
