A few times, although I'm not sure if it's rock bottom, even in my worst moments I've always felt there was more to lose. Here's a couple of examples:

My dream in high school was to become a pilot. In my country the only realistic way of becoming one was to first go through the air force. There's a lot of challenges in becoming one, but to keep the story short, the main ones are passing an opposed exam where thousands of people apply for only 5-6 places (we were ~50K people for 6 places the year I did it) and having perfect health (and eyesight).

I passed, went through basic training and, before I was going to start pilot training, we went through a second health screening. I passed the first one with flying (heh!) colors but on the second one it was detected that I had 0.25 of myopia in one eye. Automatically thrown out of the air force I found myself with no plans, no idea of what to do with my life and a major depression.

My 'comeback' was slow: I went back to high school to go through the last year again, went to uni to study computer science (I knew basic and very little more, but was always very good at logic), started working, realizing that I was actually good at it... It's been exactly 20 years (almost to the day) since I lost my childhood dreams and I'm extremely happy with this career path (probably happier than I would be in the other).

About the last comeback... let's say that I'm still on it.

In 2015 I was diagnosed with leukaemia. A couple of years before this I had left my cosy job to create a startup and it was just beginning to lift off. Basically this meant that I had no personal health care coverage, minimum salary and no way for the company to keep paying me. I spent the next 10 months in the hospital, much of that time in isolation with no immune system to speak of. Cancer is bad, but the treatment is no walk through the park either. One of the nastiest side effects of chemotherapy is what is known as "chemo brain". There's no way I can describe it accurately, but it's like a fog that clouds everything having to do with memory and the thinking process. I would try to read and hours would go by before I noticed I was still on the same page. I would lose whole days to the point that I wouldn't know what day it was, much less what time. Basically, I lost my mind and would be almost in vegetative state for most of the day. One of the first things I had to do was accepting that I probably wouldn't make it, sorted out as much as much paperwork as I could and put in place a couple of worst case scenario options.

As for the comeback: About a year ago (1.5 years after this ordeal began) I started working again, part time (I still have to go to the hospital every week and take chemo tablets every day), in another startup (the one I founded is still alive but slowly dying, my other partners let everyone go and now only work on it during the weekends). I was upfront with the founders, told them about my situation and the very real risk that I wouldn't be able to do meaningful work. I even offered to start for free just to get me back on the horse again (an offer they refused and insisted on paying me a decent salary from the first day).

I'm still not at the level I was before all this started, still four months of treatment to go and having real trouble accepting that I might actually survive this after all (we'll see in five years time). Actually getting out of the house and getting back to work have done marvels for my recovery.

The next steps for me are:
- Saving money for a mortgage: The apartment I was renting was sold while I was in the hospital and that's a level of stress I don't want to have again. By April-May next year my finances will have recovered enough to start talking with banks.
- Get back in shape. I lost a lot of weight and muscle mass during my time in the hospital and when I got out I recovered the weight with a vengeance. I have to lose about 40 pounds but have to be very careful with diets/exercise while on treatment.