From Rock Bottom to Rising Strong

The Fall

I used to think hitting rock bottom was something that happened to other people. People who made terrible choices, who didn’t plan, or who weren’t strong enough to hold it all together. I never imagined it could happen to me. I was the reliable one—the one with the color-coded calendar, a decent-paying job, a cozy apartment, and a long-term relationship that looked picture-perfect on social media.

But life doesn’t follow calendars or checklists. One by one, the pillars I built my life on crumbled. First, my job was cut in a company restructuring. I told myself I’d bounce back quickly—after all, I had experience and skills. But rejection after rejection piled up, and my confidence eroded.

Then came the relationship. What I thought was solid and supportive slowly grew distant and cold. My partner sat me down one evening and said, “I don’t think we’re growing in the same direction.” That conversation ended in tears—and with me packing my bags.

Bills piled up. My savings dried up. Eventually, I had to leave the apartment I loved, and the city that felt like home. I found myself sleeping in the guest room of my parents' house at the age of thirty, clutching a box of belongings that now felt more like remnants of a life than anything meaningful.

I was at rock bottom. And I was completely, heartbreakingly lost.

The Pause

It took weeks for me to stop pretending I was okay. I’d lie in bed scrolling through Instagram, comparing my rock bottom to someone else’s highlight reel. It only made the pain worse.

One night, I opened an old journal from college. I flipped through pages filled with dreams, poems, and messy handwriting. I didn’t recognize the words—but they stirred something in me. That night, I picked up a pen and wrote one line: “I don’t know who I am anymore, but I want to find out.”

That became my starting point.

The Climb

I began each day with a walk. It wasn’t about fitness—it was about movement, about giving myself a reason to get out of bed. I listened to audiobooks and podcasts about healing, mindfulness, and stories of people who had risen from their own ashes. I wasn’t alone. That mattered more than I expected.

Eventually, I started freelancing again—just small writing gigs, but enough to keep me afloat. I read more. I learned how to cook. I went to therapy and, for the first time in years, told someone the truth: “I don’t like the person I’ve become.”

Week by week, something changed. I wasn’t just surviving—I was learning. I was growing.

The person I was before had wrapped their identity around productivity, achievements, and what others thought of them. This new person—who was still healing—was more rooted in presence, connection, and purpose.

The Rise

A year after hitting bottom, I accepted a job at a small, values-driven company. It wasn’t glamorous, but it felt meaningful. I moved into a modest but sunny apartment. I decorated it with thrift-store finds and handmade art. It felt like mine—not curated for anyone else, but comforting for me.

I started sharing pieces of my journey online, and to my surprise, people reached out. Strangers told me that my honesty gave them courage. Friends told me they felt less alone. That’s when I realized: rising strong isn’t about proving yourself—it’s about finding peace in who you are, even when no one’s watching.

The Lesson

Life still throws challenges my way. But now I face them with a different kind of strength—the kind that comes not from avoiding failure, but from learning how to stand up again after the fall.

If you’re reading this and you're somewhere in your own version of rock bottom, let me say this: You are not broken. You are becoming.

Moral / Life Lesson:

Sometimes, everything has to fall apart so you can rebuild something truer, stronger, and more beautiful. The journey from rock bottom to rising strong isn't quick or easy—but it's real, and it’s worth every step.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi