Anyone who says differently is selling something.

Two times in my life I have been broken all the way down.

Two times I have reached my limits and lost all understanding of how to go on. And two times I’ve had to wait, in the belly of a whale, before being rescued.

That in between space — post-breaking and pre-repairing — isn’t so bad. It’s quiet, it’s numb, and it only smells a little like death. The war of giving up has already taken place, this is just the wreckage. There’s so much activity while your house is burning down but once it’s all ashes what do you do? Sink to the very depths of passivity and take comfort in the invincibility of no longer caring.
It’s not a bad space, but the admission to get in is steep. And you can’t stay forever, 3 days 3 nights, you know the rules.

Get up, wipe the vomit off, get to work.

The story doesn’t end when you break and it doesn’t end when you’re rescued. Everything just keeps going because this is life and pain is patient.


There is no rock bottom. Just the soft belly of a whale.