- PPF Points
- 2,050
Man, when people say “pressure makes diamonds”—I used to roll my eyes. Sounds like something you’d find on a cheesy gym poster, right? But, uh, turns out there’s a grain of truth there. I wouldn’t have believed it myself until I stumbled through what was easily the most absurd, humiliating, gut-wrenching year of my life. Like, the kind of year where at some point you’re just waiting for hidden cameras, convinced you’re the punchline in some cosmic prank.
So, if you’re stuck in your own personal disaster movie right now, trust me—you’re not the only one clutching the popcorn and watching the trainwreck in real time. And get this—you might actually be closer to your “aha” moment than you think. Wild, I know.
Anyway, here’s the rundown. The year that nearly broke me, and how I somehow pieced myself together into someone way more interesting.
January: Let the Face-Plant Commence
New Year’s—oh, I was hyped. Full of plans. About to boss up, hit the ground running, all that jazz. Life promptly laughed and kicked me in the teeth.
Two weeks in and... boom. Jobless. No heads-up. No “hey, we’ll help you out.” Just a polite email, followed by a Zoom call colder than Midwest January. My savings account was... not exactly ready for this. Panic did indeed set in. Spent my days doom-scrolling job listings, updating my “highly-skilled, highly-employable” resume. Nothing. Silence. It echoed.
Fail #1, delivered fresh and fast.
February – March: Oh, So It Gets Worse
Some people believe bad luck comes in threes—I lost count by March.
Mid-job hunt spiral, my relationship implodes. It was like losing an anchor. All of a sudden, everything just froze—my apartment felt haunted, silence was heavy as wet laundry. Grieving a person and a whole sense of stability? Killer combo. Motivation: zero. Honestly, getting up to brush my teeth felt like running a marathon.
Then, just for giggles, my body decided to freak me out. ER trip. Not deadly (yay?), but those medical bills? Ouch. At that point I’m literally asking the universe, “Hey, is there a ‘rock bottom’ signpost around here or should I just keep digging?”
April – June: My Brain Turns on Me
Physically? Fine enough. Mentally? Yeah, picture someone drowning in a puddle. Anxiety decided to move in, rent-free. Sleep was for other people. I basically zombied through my days, riddled with shame.
But, somewhere in the static, a tiny voice cut through. One word: “Use this.” Shrug emoji, but it kept echoing.
With nothing left to do and zero distractions, I picked up a pen. Started journaling like my life was a therapy session (spoiler: it kind of was). Fears, regrets, wild dreams—I dumped it all out.
Again and again, this phrase crept up: “Create something.”
So, screw it. I dug out this old dusty idea for a digital product business. I’d fed myself every excuse: “Not ready. Not skilled. Not enough time.” Well, now I had more time than I’d ever wanted. And literally nothing left to lose.
July – August: Building in the Rubble
Did I suddenly become a productivity guru? Nope. Some mornings I barely even bothered to sleep first—just woke up, blearily, and started. Built a website by piecing together free tools and pure panic. Wrote posts, tossed up a lead magnet, threw together my first digital product—a content strategy template for small businesses. Marketed with whatever stuff I could get for free (bless you, Canva, Notion, Google Docs).
Sold my first product in July. Seventeen bucks. Might as well have been seventeen grand—the fact that someone wanted my thing? Unreal.
I kept going. More blog posts, tutorials, daily grind. No ad budget, no secret sauce. Just yelling into the internet void, hoping somebody cared.
And, slowly, things moved. Traction—not a ton, but some.
September: Some Actual Good News?!
September rolls around. I’m making $1k a month on these digital products. Not rolling in it, but hey—rent paid, ramen stocked.
Then a big-shot in my niche shares one of my free templates on Twitter/X. No lie—my subscriber list explodes overnight. I’m talking 2,000+ new folks and $5k in sales in, what, a week? I ugly-cried at my kitchen table.
Not because of the cash (though, let’s be real—it helped), but because, finally, this mess felt worth it. All the quiet work, the nights staring at the ceiling, beating myself up over every bad decision... turns out, that was rocket fuel.
People thought it was luck. Sure, luck showed up. But I was already working my ass off when opportunity knocked.
October – December: Putting Me Back Together
With the business humming along, I remembered how to breathe. I mean, actually pause and take it in. Even let myself feel sort of proud for once.
Splurged on an online course to level up. Reached out to old friends I’d basically ghosted. Started—slowly—to forgive myself for folding under pressure.
Went from unemployed and dumped to running my own little business, not sweating rent, and—bonus—I had an actual sense of purpose for the first time in a long while.
Now I’m not just making stuff; I’m helping people. Got messages from freelancers, creators, side hustlers who found my content and felt seen.
Honestly, that’s when it clicked. The worst year ever? Ended up being my game-changer.
What the Dumpster Fire Taught Me (in 5 Painful Truths)
If I boiled this whole wild ride down, here are the five wake-up calls I got smacked with:
1. Pain Is a Compass
Turns out, the stuff you dodge is probably the exact thing you need to walk straight into. Losing my job, losing my relationship...
So, if you’re stuck in your own personal disaster movie right now, trust me—you’re not the only one clutching the popcorn and watching the trainwreck in real time. And get this—you might actually be closer to your “aha” moment than you think. Wild, I know.
Anyway, here’s the rundown. The year that nearly broke me, and how I somehow pieced myself together into someone way more interesting.
January: Let the Face-Plant Commence
New Year’s—oh, I was hyped. Full of plans. About to boss up, hit the ground running, all that jazz. Life promptly laughed and kicked me in the teeth.
Two weeks in and... boom. Jobless. No heads-up. No “hey, we’ll help you out.” Just a polite email, followed by a Zoom call colder than Midwest January. My savings account was... not exactly ready for this. Panic did indeed set in. Spent my days doom-scrolling job listings, updating my “highly-skilled, highly-employable” resume. Nothing. Silence. It echoed.
Fail #1, delivered fresh and fast.
February – March: Oh, So It Gets Worse
Some people believe bad luck comes in threes—I lost count by March.
Mid-job hunt spiral, my relationship implodes. It was like losing an anchor. All of a sudden, everything just froze—my apartment felt haunted, silence was heavy as wet laundry. Grieving a person and a whole sense of stability? Killer combo. Motivation: zero. Honestly, getting up to brush my teeth felt like running a marathon.
Then, just for giggles, my body decided to freak me out. ER trip. Not deadly (yay?), but those medical bills? Ouch. At that point I’m literally asking the universe, “Hey, is there a ‘rock bottom’ signpost around here or should I just keep digging?”
April – June: My Brain Turns on Me
Physically? Fine enough. Mentally? Yeah, picture someone drowning in a puddle. Anxiety decided to move in, rent-free. Sleep was for other people. I basically zombied through my days, riddled with shame.
But, somewhere in the static, a tiny voice cut through. One word: “Use this.” Shrug emoji, but it kept echoing.
With nothing left to do and zero distractions, I picked up a pen. Started journaling like my life was a therapy session (spoiler: it kind of was). Fears, regrets, wild dreams—I dumped it all out.
Again and again, this phrase crept up: “Create something.”
So, screw it. I dug out this old dusty idea for a digital product business. I’d fed myself every excuse: “Not ready. Not skilled. Not enough time.” Well, now I had more time than I’d ever wanted. And literally nothing left to lose.
July – August: Building in the Rubble
Did I suddenly become a productivity guru? Nope. Some mornings I barely even bothered to sleep first—just woke up, blearily, and started. Built a website by piecing together free tools and pure panic. Wrote posts, tossed up a lead magnet, threw together my first digital product—a content strategy template for small businesses. Marketed with whatever stuff I could get for free (bless you, Canva, Notion, Google Docs).
Sold my first product in July. Seventeen bucks. Might as well have been seventeen grand—the fact that someone wanted my thing? Unreal.
I kept going. More blog posts, tutorials, daily grind. No ad budget, no secret sauce. Just yelling into the internet void, hoping somebody cared.
And, slowly, things moved. Traction—not a ton, but some.
September: Some Actual Good News?!
September rolls around. I’m making $1k a month on these digital products. Not rolling in it, but hey—rent paid, ramen stocked.
Then a big-shot in my niche shares one of my free templates on Twitter/X. No lie—my subscriber list explodes overnight. I’m talking 2,000+ new folks and $5k in sales in, what, a week? I ugly-cried at my kitchen table.
Not because of the cash (though, let’s be real—it helped), but because, finally, this mess felt worth it. All the quiet work, the nights staring at the ceiling, beating myself up over every bad decision... turns out, that was rocket fuel.
People thought it was luck. Sure, luck showed up. But I was already working my ass off when opportunity knocked.
October – December: Putting Me Back Together
With the business humming along, I remembered how to breathe. I mean, actually pause and take it in. Even let myself feel sort of proud for once.
Splurged on an online course to level up. Reached out to old friends I’d basically ghosted. Started—slowly—to forgive myself for folding under pressure.
Went from unemployed and dumped to running my own little business, not sweating rent, and—bonus—I had an actual sense of purpose for the first time in a long while.
Now I’m not just making stuff; I’m helping people. Got messages from freelancers, creators, side hustlers who found my content and felt seen.
Honestly, that’s when it clicked. The worst year ever? Ended up being my game-changer.
What the Dumpster Fire Taught Me (in 5 Painful Truths)
If I boiled this whole wild ride down, here are the five wake-up calls I got smacked with:
1. Pain Is a Compass
Turns out, the stuff you dodge is probably the exact thing you need to walk straight into. Losing my job, losing my relationship...
