Varying Degrees or Rock Bottom

While I believe all men are created equal, desperation is definitely a sliding scale.  Thus the term "Rock Bottom" means different things to different people and should not be judged against those "starving children in Africa"  the adults of our youth continuously referenced when we cried out hungry.  Rock Bottom might be applying to be on Extreme Makeover Home Edition or staying in by yourself and renting Adam Sandler's latest disaster in comedy.   Although my ERB (Estimated Rock Bottom) is probably approaching, I'm not exactly sure what form it will take.  It'd obviously be easier to predict it if I was a compulsive gambler or addicted to heroin or jujubes,  but since I am not, I can only predict it's status is relative to time.  That is,  if a couple of years from now I am still in the same position as I am now, I will probably be "code red" on the official Rock Bottom scale I've devised. 

In college, my friends and I referenced the level of our inebriation using the Lucky Charm Rainbow Chart.  Sober was obviously white, but as you got progressively drunker, you'd progress to purple, then khaki,* then brown, and finally black, which usually meant waking up face down and shirtless on Cary Street with a unicorn tramp stamp.  Anyway, in terms of ERB,  I've adapted Homeland Security's Advisory System since drinking is fun, and the threat of terror seemed more appropriate in rating the brimming frustration of life.  We've got green, blue, yellow, orange, and red.   I'd say right now I'm at the elevated alert of dark yellow making a push towards Orange.   

Believe me, I'm well aware of how much I have and what a charmed life I have lived.  I've got good health, good looks, good food, and a good roof (knock on wood for all of that).  It's just that, there is this forcefield of sorts that inhibits me from reaching out and grabbing the joy that rests in all those little niceties of life that could help preserve my sanity while striving towards a goal without a time table.  I don't want anyone's empathy.  In fact, the day I seek or receive emotional charity is most likely the day I'll be able to officially declare myself ready to start a course in Rock Bottom rehab.  Nonetheless, because of my fortunate upbringing in comparison to those starving children in Africa that I've never met, it's selfish to feel "boo hoo"  about my code yellow status, which only makes me feel worse about my moments of melancholy.


*Being "in the Khaki" was the wheelhouse of drunkenness, when you were first starting to feel really good while also taking stock in the ultimate preppy college experience.