From Rock Bottom to Real Healing: My Uncharted Journey

This post was written a few weeks after I left Mazunte. It sets the context of the growth journey that I’m currently undertaking.

A few months ago, I found myself living in a rustic cottage in southern Mexico, heartbroken, disoriented, and unsure of who I was anymore. I had just moved to Mexico, was navigating the end of a long-term relationship, and nearing the conclusion of a year-long sabbatical with no clear direction.

For the first time in a while, I was truly alone with myself: no distractions, no relationship, and no clear next steps. Just me, confronting everything I had spent most of my life avoiding.

Growing up gay in rural Canada and not coming out until my mid-twenties has shaped deeply ingrained narratives that “I’m not good enough” and that “I don’t belong” that I still hold onto today. I spent years suppressing my sexuality and living a dual life, hiding parts of me that were such a core part of my identity to fit into different situations and being ashamed of who I was. And I’ve spent most of the last thirteen years in long-term relationships and living a very nomadic lifestyle, losing touch with my own identity and lacking a strong sense of belonging.

While I craved stability, my own personal choices kept me from establishing myself anywhere long-term and I tried to build a sense of stability through relationships, friendships, and my work. But when that foundation crumbled, as I transitioned to life in a new town where I knew nobody, I had to face a truth that I long avoided: I lacked stability within myself. My sense of self-worth and my ability to regulate my emotions or trust myself were missing. 

“I came here not as an escape, but to finally face myself.”

I chose to take a more difficult path by coming here instead of going back to Southeast Asia to be surrounded by close friends while I navigated such a major life transition. 

I still vividly remember stepping into the taxi alone, my heart pounding with fear of the unknown. But looking back, it was exactly the path that I needed.

The fall before the rise

Rock bottom isn’t always a dramatic, singular moment. Sometimes it’s a slow unraveling. A series of realizations that force you to see yourself in ways you never have before.

For me, it was the quiet moments that hurt the most—lying awake at night with racing thoughts, waves of intense loneliness I couldn’t numb or push away, and months of sleep deprivation.

It was realizing I had spent years abandoning myself, suppressing my emotions, avoiding conflict, and ignoring my own needs.

It was seeing how my fears and insecurities shaped the way I showed up in the world, and how my anxious and avoidant tendencies (“disorganized attachment” as I later learned in therapy) led me to attach, withdraw, overthink, and ultimately self-sabotage.

“There was nowhere left to hide. And that was the beginning of my healing journey.”

That sinking feeling of "rock bottom" didn’t happen just once. It came in waves—hitting me hard upon arrival, and again in my final weeks in Mazunte. Things got much worse before they got better.

The turning point: Moving to Mazunte

Instead of running from the discomfort, I sat with it and listened to what my body and mind had been trying to tell me for years. The way I was living wasn’t working. Something had to give.

Mazunte, a small beach town on the Oaxacan coast—known for its slow pace of life, healing energy, and vibrant conscious community—became the setting for one of the most transformative chapters of my life. There’s something raw and humbling about living there: no big resorts, no rushing. Just warm ocean breezes, where the jungle meets the coastline, and a quiet invitation to turn inwards. It was the perfect setting to start my journey inward.

I landed there with no expectations other than to give myself space. Space to grieve, to heal, and to understand myself in ways I never had before. 

And in that space, things started to shift.

For the first time in my life, I slowed down enough to actually feel what was within. I started regularly practicing meditation, yoga, and breathwork—tools that helped regulate my nervous system, which I hadn’t realized was stuck in a constant state of hyperarousal.

I started journaling daily, which became an anchor in my healing and is ultimately what inspired me to share my journey more broadly. 

I leaned into vulnerability—opening up about my struggles instead of hiding them, as I had for most of my life. I discovered something powerful: vulnerability doesn’t push people away. It’s what builds meaningful connection.

What comes next?

I won’t pretend that I have it all figured out. Healing isn’t a straight path (pun intended). It’s uncharted, nonlinear, and uniquely your own. 

Some days, I feel strong, grounded, and at peace, and accepting of my reality. Other days, I stumble back into old patterns. But the difference is that I now have tools to regulate myself and increased self-awareness to identify when these patterns and triggers emerge. I now know how to bring myself back, even if just momentarily.

And I’ve come to realize that I’m far more capable than I ever gave myself credit for.

As I continue my journey in Puerto Vallarta, I’m committed to deepening this work—to building a life aligned with my needs, surrounding myself with people who support my growth, and showing up for myself in ways I never have before.

If you’re reading this and you find yourself at your own "rock bottom," know this: it won’t last forever. 

The discomfort, the uncertainty, the pain—it’s all part of the process and it’s a beautiful part of the journey. There’s something waiting for you on the other side. Not a perfect version of yourself, but a more whole, self-aware, and self-loving one. I’m starting to find this part of me and I’m only at the beginning of my journey.

Let’s keep growing, together

Healing isn’t easy. But I am here to tell you that it’s possible and that it’s worth it.

I’m planning to use this blog to share more about my journey and hopefully inspire others to take the path less traveled.

Some of my upcoming posts were written in real time, while others are post reflections of my journey. I write to process, to understand, and to share the messiness of growth—not to present a finished story. Expect shifts in tone, clarity, and perspective.

I’d love to hear about your own experiences or topics you’d like me to explore in future posts.