It takes a certain kind of coincidence to bring about a rock bottom moment. There are exceptions: deaths, or the immediacy of sudden, shocking loss. But for me, it’s usually a combination of things - as I try to keep all the balls in the air, I get distracted and they drop. And they take me with them. They ball me, if you will.
This morning, all the balls dropped. To be honest, the details are boring - just the regular combination of work stuff, personal stuff and that one random, back breaking straw. My straw was the realisation I had lost my wallet.
After tearing my apartment apart (which was annoying filled with tradesmen trying to fix something in a wall - one of the balls), I sat down and just felt - well, rock bottom. That aching, lonely, empty feeling where you are just…done. Isolated. Alone. Broken.
Then I picked myself up, got changed and begrudgingly went to look for my wallet on the streets of Beijing. A long shot, but what the hell else could I do?
And I found the fucking wallet in the elevator. All night, it had sat there, and no one had touched it.
This was it…the bounce.
The best thing about hitting rock bottom is the realisation that once you dust yourself off, you are on the way back up.