The Rock Bottom of the Next Level

Have you ever heard of a "quantum leap"? No, not the one from quantum physics, but the popular psychological and spiritual idea of a quantum leap. It's usually described as not just gradual improvement, but a fundamental shift to a new level of life, thinking, or personal growth. It's more of a metaphor than a scientific concept.

The most interesting part is that before the leap comes the downfall.

I don't even know whether this so-called quantum leap actually exists. Maybe it's nothing more than a beautiful metaphor. But every single time my life has completely fallen apart, I've eventually realized that it was actually the beginning of the next chapter.

I've changed a lot lately. The old version of me has run its course. She died. A new version is still taking shape, and maybe reality just hasn't caught up yet.

The past few weeks have been an absolute fucking disaster. The only thing comforting me right now is believing that it's temporary—that something much better is waiting on the other side. I remind myself of the rock bottom I've already survived, of where I managed to climb out from, and I keep telling myself: this isn't it. I've been somewhere much worse.

Some people will probably assume that my rock bottom was when I ended up homeless and had to live in a hostel. No. It was hard. Really hard. But it wasn't the lowest point.

The real rock bottom happened earlier—when I was living in Prague. I've never spoken publicly about that period of my life, and I'm not going to start now. But I did write about it in my book, which I've almost finished. Maybe one day you'll read it and understand why living in a hostel never felt like the end of the world to me.

The point is that one of the best chapters of my life began right after Prague—I moved here, to the United States. Then came another downfall: homelessness, the hostel, uncertainty. And once again, life became better than it had been before. But looking back, I don't even think it was a downfall. It was simply the rock bottom of the next level—a level that, by definition, was already higher than the previous one.

And here I am again, standing at the edge of another transition. Another level. And nobody sees what I'm going through.

I share a lot about my life, but I only share what I choose to share. What I choose to show. That's why very few people actually know me.

I don't really want to get into everything that's gone wrong lately. It was just one thing after another, every little problem piling on top of the next. What I do want to talk about is what it did to me emotionally—the part nobody sees, the part I don't post on social media, the part I sometimes don't even show my own family.

All of my deepest fears came crawling back. Money. Career. The same cycle all over again. I've been working in this goddamn club for more than two years now, and I still can't seem to get out. On top of that, it offers absolutely no stability, which only feeds the anxiety.

Sometimes I become so exhausted and emotionally numb that I don't want anything anymore. To the point where I don't even want to be alive. I just want to quit. Quit this endless fight. But no matter how many times those thoughts cross my mind, I cry until I have nothing left, then I get up... and keep going.

Sometimes, during periods like this, I find myself wondering what actually takes more courage: living... or ending your own life. People can debate that question forever and look at it from every possible angle. But I think living is harder than making the decision to die once.

So I choose to live. I choose this endless, sadomasochistic fight with all of its fucking transformations. Because I only get one life. And no matter how unbearable it may seem right now, it has already proven to me, over and over again, that after the darkest chapters comes something so beautiful I couldn't have imagined it even in my wildest dreams.

And going through another period like this completely alone, without anyone's help, one thought kept coming back to me. Of course my standards for men are going to be high after surviving this kind of fucking hell on my own. Periods like these change your standards. After you've had to pull yourself out of the darkness over and over again, you stop looking for someone who's simply there to keep you company. You start looking for someone whose presence makes your life easier, not harder.

After countless attempts to force things to happen, I finally realized that maybe I just need to let go, stop trying to control everything, and simply watch what unfolds. That's exactly what I'm going to do. Because if I don't, I'll drive myself crazy.

Maybe quantum leaps don't exist. Maybe I'm simply trying to make sense of everything that's happening. Or maybe they do exist, and maybe I'm living through one right now. In the end, it comes down to faith. And I choose to believe.

I'm choosing to live through this chapter.

And see where it takes me.