Rock Bottom Doesn’t Mean It’s Over
Just when the world was suspended somewhere between open and closed in 2020, I realized I was done simply existing and endlessly wishing for a better life.
Less than a year earlier, I had emergency, life-saving surgery.
I was 42.
Training for a triathlon.
My bloodwork consistently came back as that of an athletic woman in her 20s.
And yet, I was bleeding badly from fibroids.
My health insurance was so inadequate that even as I lay prepped on the operating table, doctors were still arguing with the insurance company about whether the surgery qualified as an “emergency.”
The last thing I remember before they put me under, the doctor leaned in and said,
“I’ve never seen someone’s numbers drop as fast as yours.”
That was his apology for not listening to me when I was begging him to hear me.
I kept telling them: I had lost 111 pounds, I know my body. The bleeding was so severe that at one point I had passed out, hit my head on the wall, then the floor. When I came to, I was surrounded by broken glass.
At the ER, they told me I needed surgery and handed me a referral.
Nothing more.
When I got home, my electricity had been shut off. I no one to call and ask to borrow money to turn it back on.
I sold nearly everything I owned of value, antiquities I’d collected from my travels around the world and my clothes just to turn the lights back on, put gas in my car to get to my underpaid job, and feed my cat. I went to a grand opening that night just to feed myself.
The surgery that ultimately saved my life was delayed because I didn’t have the $5,000 deductible.
It wasn’t until I looked the doctor in the eye and said,
“I know my body. And I won’t be here tomorrow to have this conversation if you don’t help me,” that changed everything .
I nearly bled out. I had a blood clot and my recovery would have been easier if they had given me a transfusion because I lost so much blood.
After surgery, I was weak, severely anemic, and so short of breath that I was fired two weeks later from my telephone sales job.
Months later COVID hit and I once again found myself unemployed.
For the first time, the world slowing down forced me to confront something I couldn’t ignore anymore:
nothing lasts forever, not jobs, not safety, not suffering or even happiness.
This first photo represents the day I finally had enough and started packing.
I let go of everything except my cat, my Camaro, and a dream for something better.
I chose courage over fear.
Movement over stagnation.
That was the moment I found the bravery to begin again and stepped into life as a digital nomad and content creator. With zero experience and competing against people half my age, I did it anyway.
Not because it was safe.
But because staying where I was would have cost me my life.
If you’re reading this and quietly struggling please hear this:
You’re not weak for being tired.
You’re not behind for needing help.
And you’re not broken because life knocked you flat.
If today all you can do is breathe and keep going, that’s enough.
If you need someone to remind you that you won’t always feel this way stay here with me.
You don’t have to have the whole plan.
You just have to choose yourself one more time.
Rock bottom doesn’t mean the story is over.
It means the ground is solid enough to push off from. You’re not starting over you’re starting with experience.
Next Thursday, I’ll share what happened after I chose courage and how that next step changed my entire life.
Experiencing rock bottom can feel like the end, but it often becomes the foundation for extraordinary growth. I remember facing a similar struggle where I was blindsided by unforeseen challenges that shook my sense of stability. Like many, I initially felt isolated and overwhelmed, unsure how to move forward. What helped me most was embracing the idea that hitting rock bottom is actually an opportunity to reset and gain clarity. It gives us a chance to reevaluate priorities, rebuild resilience, and nurture self-compassion. Taking small, intentional steps—whether learning new skills, reaching out for support, or simply acknowledging feelings—can create momentum toward a brighter future. It’s powerful to recognize that resilience doesn’t mean going it alone. Throughout difficult times, I found strength in connecting with communities that understood my experiences, which provided validation and encouragement. Sharing stories, like this one about overcoming health and financial crises while stepping boldly into new careers, reinforces that no one is truly alone in their struggles. Moreover, embracing impermanence helps: all situations, good or bad, evolve. Understanding that hardships do not define us but rather refine us can shift perspective from despair to empowerment. This mindset aligns with the author's message—that rock bottom provides solid ground to push off from, leveraging lived experience instead of starting from scratch. Readers going through difficult periods should remember it’s okay to rest and simply keep breathing. It’s enough to choose yourself each day, even without a full plan. Courage doesn’t require perfection—just the willingness to take the next step. This journey from crisis to courage, health battles to newfound freedom, is a testament to the remarkable human spirit that rises when we refuse to give up.
