Hitting Rock Bottom: My Battle with Self

Hitting Rock Bottom: The Longest Night, the Hardest Morning

I was awake the entire night, lost in an endless cycle of regret and despair. My sons—one nine and the other eight—left for school at 7 AM, their innocent faces unaware of the storm raging within me. It felt like I was hitting rock bottom, the lowest point I could possibly reach. It was only after they left that I finally succumbed to exhaustion, drifting into a restless sleep. By 9 or 9:30 AM, I woke up, my body weak and my mind heavier than ever. Even as I write this now, I feel a strange, overwhelming sadness creeping in, forcing me to relive the darkest moments of my past.

Dehydrated, I weakly called for water. My wife placed a glass on the table. When I reached for it, my hands trembled so violently that I couldn’t lift it. I tried again with both hands, but my fingers were unsteady, and water spilled onto the floor. I could barely take a sip before setting the glass down. My wife, watching in silence, picked it up and gently held it to my lips, helping me drink. Tears welled in my eyes. With tears of her own, she finally asked, “I’ve seen you like this for ten years. You weren’t always this way. Please, tell me what’s happening. Why are you doing this?”

I forced a weak smile. “It’s nothing serious. Just a small issue. I’ll fix it. Give me some time, and everything will be fine.”

I wanted to believe my own words. But deep down, I knew they were a lie.

The Illusion of a Normal Life

To the outside world, I had it all—a stable job, a loving family, and a life that appeared ordinary. But inside, I was crumbling under the weight of financial mismanagement, alcohol addiction, and reckless decisions. Hitting rock bottom wasn’t sudden; it was a slow, silent collapse.

By 2022, my finances had spiraled out of control. Every paycheck was swallowed by loan EMIs. My desperation for quick money led me back to stock market investments—a gamble I had already failed at in 2015. Ignoring past mistakes, I dove in without research or planning. Even as I lost money, I kept drinking, numbing the reality of my failures. When stocks didn’t work, I turned to lotteries and internet scams that promised overnight riches.

Borrowing became my only way forward. Because I was a salaried professional, people trusted me. But the truth was, I had nothing. Each loss pushed me deeper into debt, and when lenders grew cautious, I resorted to deception—offering fake promises of getting things done through my ‘connections’ in exchange for money.

Drowning in Lies

One evening, I sat staring at my phone as unread messages piled up:

“Brother, any update on my money?”

“When will you return my payment? You promised last week.”

“We need to talk. This is urgent.”

I switched off my phone, paralyzed by fear. My mind whispered, Just one big win, and everything will be fixed.

With my last borrowed sum, I made another high-risk investment. My hands shook as I placed the bet. But when the numbers rolled in, my screen went blank. Another loss. Another irreversible mistake.

I reached for the bottle beside me, letting the burn of alcohol wash over my despair.

I had a deep character flaw—when faced with problems, I ran. And in those dark years, I ran further than ever before. This tendency to escape problems wasn’t new—I had struggled with it for years. Here’s a deep dive into my biggest personal flaws and how they shaped my downfall.

Living a Lie, Dying Inside

Mornings meant dressing as if I were going to work. But instead of heading to the office, I wandered aimlessly through the streets, sipping from a concealed bottle. I sat on park benches, watching people rush to their jobs, pretending I was just another passerby.

At home, my wife would ask, “How was your day?”

Drunk, I’d fabricate stories. “Oh, you don’t know! My boss was so impressed with my project today. No one else in the office could do what I did.”

Sometimes, I even believed my own lies—especially when I saw the relief on my wife’s face. But inside, I was drowning. My reality was nothing but a carefully crafted illusion.

The Depths of Addiction

By then, I had reached a point where I needed alcohol the moment I woke up. Without it, irritation clawed at me. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t even drink water without trembling. My hands shook like those of an old man, and sunlight felt unbearable. I always saved a small reserve of liquor for the mornings—but that day, I had none left. This wasn’t sudden—it was the result of years of slow addiction. Read my journey of how I started drinking and how it spiraled out of control.“

Restless and desperate, I had no money to buy more. My wife entered the room and asked, “Can I bring you water?” I said nothing. She brought it anyway. As soon as she placed it down, I broke into tears.

“Please… just give me some money. If I don’t drink, my head will explode,” I begged, my voice frantic.

She hesitated, eyes filled with anguish, then pulled out some savings and handed it to me. I grabbed the money and ran to the liquor store like a madman. I bought the cheapest alcohol available—more for less. I don’t remember how I made it home. When I woke up, I was on my bed, lost in the haze of another blackout.

That night, staring at the ceiling, a stark thought pierced through the numbness: Just end it. A simple, horrifying solution. What if I could just erase this pain, disappear completely?

The Breaking Point

During my worst days, my wife tried everything. She mixed medicine into my water, hoping it would make me quit drinking. She sat beside me, resting her hand on mine. “Talk to me,” she pleaded.

“It’s nothing,” I’d mumble. “I’ll fix it. Just give me time.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything. And it was killing me.

I had reached a point where I saw only one way out. I couldn’t repay my debts. I couldn’t stop drinking. I had destroyed every relationship around me.

Sitting in my darkened room, staring at the ceiling, I thought, This is it. This is how it ends. This is hitting rock bottom.

Hitting rock bottom was my wake-up call, but it wasn’t my breaking point. (I started writing my journey to share these painful truths openly. If you’re new here, read why I decided to document my battle and recovery.)

That came next.

I was ready to let go. To give up completely. But something—someone—stopped me.

In my next blog, I will share the day I stood at the edge of oblivion but chose to step back. The day I wanted to end it all—but didn’t. It was the lowest, most painful moment of my life. But it was also the turning point that changed everything.

➡️ Read my next blog: My Darkest Hour: The Edge of the Abyss.