Rock Bottom

Two years, seven months and 13 days ago I hit emotional rock bottom. Or at least I was on my way there. My Moms' funeral was on April 12, 2005 (just four days after what would've been her 50th birthday) and while April 5 (the day she died) until April 12 was a blur, everything that has happened after the 12th has been in sharp focus. I think I hit absolute bottom within the week that I flew back to school in Holland. It may have been that first night I went back to Utrecht, and found my 'friends' preparing to head out to a party, leaving, even though the knew that I was coming back that day, going away, leaving me in the massive unit all by myself. They had even asked me if I wanted to come to the party with them. I'd wanted to shout, "My mother's been dead less than a month and I'm supposed to go what?" But that wouldn't have been fair, everyone deals with their problems differently, what counts as support is different for each person, and different people have different ways of coping. So I went to my room and packed an overnight bag to head back to my then-boyfriend's house where I'd actually stayed the first couple days back in Holland. The irony of the situation? My 'friends' and I all ended up on the same train. Their stop was a small town outside of Utrecht, I went on to Gouda and then caught the train to Rotterdam. That night I think I hit rock botttom.

I didn't know it was actually possible to hit rock bottom twice and come out still breathing and unscathed, physically anyway. Last Friday night/Saturday morning I hit rock bottom. I sat in my car, in my night clothes, staring at the red stop light at the intersection of Cenntral Avenue, Shortwood Road and Constant Spring Road and I knew that I was there, again for Christ's sake. I'll take a couple things with me from that night. The only one thing that I can feel good about though is that I nailed the sexiest drift ever from Constant Spring to Dunrobin Avenue. Pure drifting mastery, the right line, the right amount of lock, the right tyre pressure, the right place to hold the steering wheel, the right way to feather the gas. Right. In a whole night, well couple days of wrongs, the rights have been my driving. My hill run that night was perfect. The only run that was better was the one I did the previous night, where I pushed as hard as I ever have, and I was rewarded with the fastest, tighest, cleanest run I've ever had. I hit rock bottom again, but I'll be okay, again. I can still joke about the fact that I drive so well when I'm upset that it's scary.

Unfortunately, I haven't found any answers at yet, but at least I've found the questions that I have to ask myself to find the right answers. And that, amazingly, has given me peace of mind.