staceybooks

Let’s stop pretending this is just a rough patch.

This is rock bottom.

This is betrayal wrapped in silence.

This is everything you worked for, gone.

This is waking up every morning with a pit in your stomach and pretending to function while quietly screaming on the inside.

You didn’t get a warning, no “brace yourself,” just impact.

And now you’re standing in the ashes of a life that doesn’t even look like yours anymore, trying to convince the world, and maybe even yourself, that you’re okay.

Here’s the truth:

Nobody is coming to save you.

Not your friends, not your job, not the people who said they’d never leave.

The rescue mission is you.

So what now?

You burn the damn blueprint.

The one that told you who you should be by now.

The one that said if you played by the rules, life would go your way.

The one written by people who never lived through what you’re surviving.

You don’t rebuild from the top.

You start from the pain.

You build from the heartbreak, the rejection, the loss.

You rise with grit in your gut and fire in your lungs, daring anyone to underestimate you again.

This isn’t a motivational speech.

This is a war cry.

Because if you’re still breathing, you’re still dangerous.

If your heart’s still beating, you’re still in the fight.

And if life thought it broke you, it clearly hasn’t seen you rise.

So rise.

Not with perfection, with power.

Not with permission, with purpose.

And not for anyone else’s approval, but because deep down, you know:

This story isn’t over.

You’re not done.

And rock bottom?

That was just the foundation.