Finding Joy After Hitting Rock Bottom

It’s funny how rock bottom doesn’t always look like the movies.

There was no dramatic collapse, no screaming into the night.

It was quiet.

It was numb.

And it was mine.

A year ago, I thought I had everything together.

A job I’d worked hard to get.

A relationship that looked perfect on Instagram.

A life that, from the outside, seemed full.

But inside? I was crumbling. And when it all fell apart, I didn’t just lose what I had—I lost who I thought I was.

The Breakdown That Didn’t Look Like One

It began slowly. I started waking up dreading the day before it even started. I felt tired all the time, even though I slept too much. I avoided calls, skipped meals, smiled in public, and cried in private.

Then one day, the final thread snapped.

I was let go from my job—downsizing, they said.

My partner left two weeks later.

And just like that, everything that anchored me was gone.

I remember sitting on the floor of my tiny apartment, surrounded by unopened mail and dirty dishes, thinking, This is it. I’ve officially hit bottom.

But what I didn’t know then was that rock bottom wasn’t the end. It was the beginning.

Sitting With the Silence

The first few weeks were hard.

Not in the dramatic, tragic way—but in the slow, heavy way that makes getting out of bed feel like a task. I didn’t have anywhere to go or anyone to pretend for. That scared me more than anything.

When everything was stripped away, what was left was… me.

And at first, I didn’t like what I saw. I felt empty, directionless, broken.

But for the first time in years, I started listening—to the quiet, to my thoughts, to the ache I’d been burying under “busy” and “fine” and “I’ll deal with it later.”

It wasn’t comfortable. But it was honest.

The Smallest Joys

One morning, I made myself a cup of coffee—not because I had somewhere to be, but just because I could. I sat by the window and watched the sun rise. And for a brief moment, I felt… peace.

It wasn’t happiness. It wasn’t healing.

But it was a spark.

That day, I made a promise:

I would look for one small joy every day. Just one.

Some days, it was a good song on a walk.

Other days, it was a funny meme from a friend.

Sometimes it was just remembering to shower and light a candle.

And slowly—without even realizing it—I began building a life from these tiny joys.

Redefining What “Joy” Means

Before I hit rock bottom, I thought joy had to be big.

A promotion. A vacation. A new relationship.

Something Instagram-worthy. Something impressive.

But in my lowest season, I learned that joy is quiet.

It’s a soft place to land.

It’s a warm cup of tea.

It’s being able to laugh again—even if it’s just once.

I started redefining success for myself—not as achievement, but as alignment.

Did something feel true to me? Did it feel like peace?

If yes, I followed it.

If no, I let it go—even if it looked “good” on paper.

The Rebuild

Six months after losing my job, I picked up a freelance gig writing articles. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and gave me a sense of purpose.

I wasn’t climbing a corporate ladder anymore—I was building something of my own.

I started reconnecting with friends—not out of obligation, but out of a desire for real connection.

I took daily walks. I journaled. I got into therapy.

And most importantly, I stopped running from my pain.

I let myself grieve the life I thought I wanted.

I let myself feel.

It was in that process of feeling, of surrendering, that the real healing began.

What Rock Bottom Taught Me

Rock bottom stripped me bare—but it also gave me clarity.

It showed me what mattered.

It taught me how to sit with myself.

It revealed how much of my life had been built on fear and performance.

Now, I live slower. More intentionally.

I protect my peace.

I say no without guilt.

I celebrate small wins.

I cherish the quiet.

I found joy again—not because I chased it, but because I created it, moment by moment.

The Lesson

Hitting rock bottom isn’t the end—it’s the foundation.

Sometimes, when life falls apart, it’s giving you the chance to rebuild it with truth, with care, and with joy.

You don’t need to have it all figured out.

You don’t need to bounce back overnight.

You just need to keep showing up—for yourself.

One small joy at a time.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi