“Hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a damn seminar. Stop trying to control everything.” – Fight Club
One of the oldest digital pictures on my computer. I think these folks are from my mother’s side of the family . . . she said they were farmers.
There was a moment in time when it was almost . . . just too much. My moment was at 10pm one night in March in the (now) distant past. I had been up since 6am, and at 10pm was the first minute I had that was for me that day.
The day started early – I had to get my daughters up and ready for school – and then drop them off at the day care right as it opened at 7am (I’d made their lunches the night before). Then, off to work. Work lasted until 5:45pm, which was the last time I could leave and not miss the day care closing time, which was 6pm. I was a manager, so work meant long hours.
I’d take my daughters shopping for groceries once a week. The three of us ate for (generally) about $25 a week – which involved no eating out and quite a lot of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese® or Hamburger Helper™. Lunches for the girls were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Pretty much daily.
After shopping? Back to home to cook dinner, do dishes, and work on homework with the girls. Then make sure they bathed and toss ‘em into bed while I did a load of laundry.
Then it was 10pm. Me time. On Saturdays I’d get up with the girls and make breakfast (either cereal or pancakes) and then fall asleep, exhausted, while they watched cartoons.
Financially, I was in debt – the most of my life. I had a home payment, a car payment, a student loan payment, and a lot of credit card debt. A lot. Divorces are expensive. Why are they expensive? They’re worth it. I mentioned the $100 food budget, but every dollar was spoken for. I wanted to play rugby for the local team, but couldn’t. There wasn’t enough money for both rugby club dues ($45?) and eating. So, eating took priority.
I remember distinctly being flat on my back in bed – arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling fan.
I was at the bottom. No money. No time for anything. And an endless stretch of days just to start digging myself out of the mess.
Again – I was at the bottom. And I gave up. How stupid was I to get in this situation. I prayed. “I can’t do this. I need help.”
The next day, a check for exactly the amount required arrived in the mailbox – it was a rebate from AT&T – I was in some sort of long distance plan that gave me a rebate after so long. And here it was. I could play rugby.
But who would watch the girls? Good friends (who I still owe!) would.
Every day after I hit bottom got better. Every day. It seems that when you’re at the bottom, every step, in any direction, is a way up and out. Eventually I got enough money so we weren’t living close to the edge.
I got promoted at work.
I got raises.
I got in shape.
I met The Mrs. – at the exact time and place where I was a better guy, and the world was headed my way.
Eventually, I clawed my way out of debt. And the lessons I learned walking out of the bottom of the pit, however slowly, are with me today.
When you’re at the bottom – the only way is up. What can you pick up down there and bring back up with you?
