When No One Showed Up At The Bottom – Discovering Beautiful

I hit more than one bottom before making the decision to try Recovery.
My body felt like I hit thousands of times but realistically, hundreds is probably more accurate.

I really couldn’t tell you what a dozen of my ‘rock bottoms’ looked like and that’s because I was never down there long enough to have to observe or take notes.

Each time I fell down flat on my face I knew there would be someone who was waiting for me on the bottom. They were always more prepared than I was, and were ready and willing to bend down, pull me up, dust me off and walk me back up.

It was glorious.

I had manipulated my enablers into a cozy place; nicely secured in my front pocket. These were kind people, who gobbled down every spoon fed sob story that I dished out. They took my verbal and emotional beatings like champs, getting right back up again after I made pointed attempts to crush them.

These people also believed that if they loved me enough, I would change.

They had no idea that I could no longer feel anything. They didn’t know that I didn’t want, or need, or feel any of the love that they were forcing on me. They didn’t know that when I looked in the mirror, I was disgusted and embarrassed and ashamed that they loved me. I had given up on myself and wasn’t really concerned with the way I was making them
(or their pocketbooks) feel.

Over time my network of enablers began to dissolve. People started pulling back.
People started using the word no, and suddenly people weren’t picking up the phone.

It took years, but I had finally sucked the life and money out of all of my go-to’s. My life lines had officially run their course.

So this last time when I hit the bottom I hit harder than ever.
As usual, I felt the sting of the impact- but this time, I just laid there face down.
I was alone.