I think I've always been somewhere near rock bottom, I just didn't know it. What I didn’t realise was how long I had been living there – perhaps for decades. It's a common belief that rock bottom is a dramatic collapse – a crisis, a breaking point, a place from which there is nowhere left to fall. In reality, it's often far quieter. Rock bottom can settle into daily life, into your thoughts and routines, until you realise something fundamental no longer feels right.

It doesn't always look like chaos. Sometimes, it looks like exhaustion that sleep can't fix, feeling disconnected, waking up heavy, simply trying to get through the day. It can be losing interest in what once brought joy, feeling stuck despite your efforts, or sensing that life is happening to you rather than being actively shaped by you.

Internally, rock bottom brings isolation, and self-doubt. Thoughts such as “Maybe I’m the problem” can sometimes take a hold, particularly under prolonged pressure. Yet these thoughts are not objective truths, but the psychological weight of external challenges turned inwards.

Recognising rock bottom is less about one dramatic moment and more about understanding when your current ways of coping are no longer sustainable. It's usually not simply a collapse, but a signal there is something deeper that continues to require your attention.

Importantly, rock bottom is not you failing. More often, it reflects prolonged effort under difficult conditions, carrying too much for too long, often without the support. What feels like breaking may instead be the natural consequence of living with trauma or stress. Both can contribute to rock bottom.

But rock bottom, just doesn't have to be an ending. It can also be a psychological turning point – a moment of awareness when you begin to understand that continuing as before is no longer feasible, and where change, however small, needs to emerge.

It's about recognising and choosing to do something about it.