Where Is Rock Bottom, Anyway?

About a month ago I asked this rhetorical question of my 6 Twitter followers: "What does rock bottom look like and how fast can I get there?"

I asked because I've attended a Christian university for almost 4 years now and I'm really disappointed with my failure to rely on God for basically anything. I thought, "Hey, if I can get to rock bottom, if I can just have nothing left at all, I'll have to turn to Jesus, right?"

A week later, I totaled my car on the highway in rush hour tragic. It made for an interesting spring break.
A week after that, I found out my application was declined for the internship that was the only post-graduation plan I had.

Losing my car should have meant giving up four hours of work per week, among other things, but what the accident really taught me was that I have a support system. People were there for me, people who wouldn't let go of me easily. And I thought, maybe rock bottom isn't a possibility. Because wouldn't rock bottom mean no support system? Wouldn't it mean so much more than no car, but also no job, no place to live, no idea where I'm getting my next meal? And I'm convinced I won't ever have to deal with that, because I'll always have someone.

So either "rock bottom" means I would have to become a horrible person and push all of my loved ones away, or I have to think of it in relative terms. Rock bottom for you might mean living on the street, begging for change, but for me maybe it's wasting away at my parents' house, not applying for jobs at all because I can't convince myself that any of it matters anymore? I don't know.

I guess what I was really thinking was, "God, please just take everything away from me, take me all the way down to the worst circumstances possible, because as long as nothing can possibly get worse, I'll know it has to get better."

But did I really mean it? I can't believe I wished this upon myself. I allowed a stupid moment of self-pity to make me forget all the good things I had going for myself, and then I willed those things away. I don't even remember why.

Before the accident, I was dealing with a lot of self-hatred, and I don't even remember why. I don't remember what about myself I hated so much. I know what I hate now. I hate the stupid girl who drove my car into the back of a pickup truck because she was in a hurry. I hate the girl who only applied for one job because it just would have been absurd to have options. I hate having absolutely no way to get from here to any kind of future I might have been able to hope for.

I guess I'm in the same place I was a month ago: sitting here, knowing I'm falling, waiting to finally fall far enough that I can finally start going up again.