I'm at Rock Bottom.
It's not a place, it's a state of mind.
My life has been pretty blessed in terms of Rock Bottoms. The last one I had was 1977. At that time, all I needed to do was get the hell out of Dodge. Which I did, and I slept three days straight at my family farm.
This time I have obligations to other people, and I'm not doing a very good job of performing them. My daughters have had to parent me, because at Rock Bottom it's hard to interact well with others.
I've actually been sliding toward Rock Bottom for three weeks, but I still didn't see the rock at the bottom. Being an optimist, I've been trying to weasel my way out of it and look on the bright side.
Sometimes there just isn't a bright side.
You know who you find at Rock Bottom? All the scary, horrific bored deities who want to devour your soul and put you in some dreary afterworld. Can't even give these Types a graham cracker or a glass of iced tea. I don't want to hang with Them. It's not how I roll.
Therefore I will try to claw my way out of Rock Bottom by petitioning bored deities of every sort to come to my emotional rescue.
Send me vultures. Send me many vultures.