My Last Rock Bottom

I woke up like most mornings, heart pounding and pouring sweat with the dark cloud of shame hanging over my head. This was nothing unusual, just another morning for a drunk who once again found another rock bottom. This vicious cycle is one I had done thousands of times before, but this one was different. I was still reeling in my mind the spectacle I had made of myself the night before. This time the shame was different. It hit deeper in my core, looking at myself in the mirror. I hated that I had become a strung-out overweight cowardly shell of what I once was. I was disgusted with myself. The feeling was overwhelming, and for the first time, I wasn’t even sure if throwing in the towel wasn’t the best answer, but at least I wouldn’t be able to let anyone down again. My drinking and pill habit had taken everything from me, my family, my mental and physical health, my dignity, and my self-worth. Maybe taking myself out of the equation would at least save the ones who hadn’t given up on me the trouble of picking up the pieces in the wake of my self-destruction. This was when I knew that my addiction had stripped me of everything. This rock bottom was it. I knew this was the last one I had in me, and this feeling hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew from this moment on that if I didn’t change right this second, I had little time left on this earth. The reality of this situation lit up for me like a beacon; call it divine intervention but something inside me told me it was now or never. I’ve heard alcoholics describe their moment of “clarity.” Still, I never gave this a second thought while in and out of different meetings in the past, and why should I pay mind to what a bunch of drunks has to say anyways in these meetings? In my mind, I wasn’t like them, some helpless drunk or addict. This was the trick my addict mind was playing; it never lets you see how truly sick you are; you never realize the real hold this addiction has on you till it’s too late. But at this moment, I had two choices stay the course I was going, which I knew led down a dark and rocky road to an early grave, or one road was a road toward recovery. So it was now, while on the bottom, I chose to rebuild my life; the old way wouldn’t cut, so I gave in. I admitted the way I lived my life was wrong. I finally accepted that all the problems in my life were my fault; I was the only one holding myself back. It’s hard to swallow when you realize you have been pointing your fingers of blame in the wrong direction.

“The best thing about rock bottom is the rock part. You discover the solid bit of you. The bit that can’t be broken down further. The thing that you might sentimentally call a soul. At our lowest we find the solid ground of our foundation. And we can build ourselves anew.”

― Matt Haig, The Comfort Book