The F*ckeries: When Your Life Falls Apart

When I look back over my life, especially the last decade, it honestly feels like I've been moving through one collapse after another. One strange turn of events after the next, each one stripping something away that I thought was stable.

I call it the fuckeries.

What the Fuckeries Actually Look Like

I've lost people. I've lost jobs. I've lost health, stability, relationships, and at times even my sense of identity. There were moments where I genuinely couldn't recognise the shape of my own life anymore.

I went through legal battles that drained me for years. Financial pressure that felt relentless. Health issues that arrived one after the other like they were collecting themselves in my body without asking permission.

Even my body became part of the story. I was misdiagnosed, redirected, told different things by different professionals — and for a long time I was just trying to survive the confusion of it all while still being in pain. There were moments I honestly didn't know how I was still standing.

And it didn't stop at health or work. It went deeper than that.

Relationships shifted or disappeared. Some fell away slowly, others all at once. Family dynamics changed in ways that were confronting. There were moments I reached out for help and what came back wasn't support — but judgment, or distance, or nothing at all.

That kind of thing changes you.

Always Waiting for the Next Boot to Drop

At the time, I didn't have language for it other than thinking my life was just falling apart. It felt chaotic, unpredictable, like I was constantly bracing for the next thing to go wrong.

And in a way, I was. Always waiting for the next boot to drop.

But something started to change over time. Not because things suddenly became easy — but because I started to see a pattern underneath it all. I started noticing that every time something fell away, something else was being revealed.

Not immediately. Not gently. But eventually.

Turning Toward Something Larger

In the middle of it all, I found myself turning toward something I never really leaned on before: something larger than me.

Prayer became more natural. Asking for help became more honest. There were moments where all I could do was say — I don't know what's happening, but please guide me through it. Please help me survive this part.

And slowly, things started to shift. Not in a neat, linear way. More like pieces of my life began rearranging themselves without my permission — but somehow in alignment with something I couldn't fully see at the time.

Some things ended abruptly. Some opportunities disappeared. Some people left without explanation. But then other things appeared just as quickly. Support showed up in unexpected places. New paths opened when I had no plan left. Moments of clarity came right in the middle of confusion.

It didn't make the process less intense. But it made it feel less random. Like maybe I wasn't being punished by chaos — but moved through a kind of forced transformation I couldn't have chosen for myself.

Destruction or Redirection?

I've started to realise that a lot of what I thought was destruction was actually redirection.

It still felt like loss. It still felt overwhelming. But underneath it, there was movement toward something I couldn't see yet.

And I won't pretend I'm completely past it. I still feel the nervous system remembering old patterns. I still feel the anticipation of something going wrong. That doesn't just disappear overnight.

But there's also a growing sense that maybe I'm not in the same kind of cycle anymore. Maybe I've already been through the part where everything breaks open. And now I'm in whatever comes after that.

No Clean Lesson

I don't think there's a clean lesson in all of this. I don't think it can be reduced to something simple like "everything happens for a reason" in a way that bypasses the actual experience of it.

It was real. It was messy. It hurt. It changed me.

But if I look at it honestly, I can also see that I'm not who I was when it started. And somehow, in the middle of all the fuckeries, something in me kept forming. Kept adjusting. Kept learning how to stay present even when nothing made sense.

Maybe that's what I call survival. Or growth. Or whatever word fits best for the moment.

For now, I'm still here. Still moving. Still letting things unfold.

To watch the full video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7Xf_ufTMVA