Close Knit by Denise Stone & Kels Stone

Author:Denise Stone & Kels Stone [Stone, Denise & Stone, Kels]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Between the Sheets Publishing
Published: 2024-09-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Daphne

“I feel so guilty,” I admit to Erin over the Zoom call. “Yesterday was one of the worst days I’ve had in a long time. I just rotted, doomscrolling and letting myself spiral.”

“Daphne, there’s no right way to handle extreme stress.”

“I know, but I ate so much junk food trying to fill the hole inside of me. Eventually, I was as physically sick as I felt mentally,” I stammer, my words tripping over each other.

The best thing about virtual therapy is taking sessions from the comfort of your pj’s. Normally, I have one session a month, but Erin had an opening today. This hour for myself was very much needed.

“I’m sorry to hear yesterday was tough, but it’s understandable given the article, the comments, and Cameron. It’s okay to have days when usual coping strategies don’t work. Reaching out for support is a good step.”

“I know, but how do I move forward? I’m worried sponsors will pull out of my retreat or people will crash the site when I post tickets in the middle of January. I don’t want to put anyone at risk.”

“Those are valid fears, but that’s two months away. You have time to figure things out.”

“But what do I do right now? I hate that I feel like that preteen girl getting bullied online again. I hate that I can’t fix this myself.”

The thing that no one warns you about is that no matter how much time passes, no matter what story you tell yourself, whether you turn the bullying into an act of revenge or live with a heart full of love, there will always be a voice in your brain. One that visits you in the best moments of your life and in the worst. One that appears, often or occasionally, and lies to you.

Mine says that I’m too much. That I’m trying to get attention. That I’m weird. That I’m not capable of helping anybody. That I’m a freak. That because I’m still in therapy after so many years, I’m not equipped to talk about anxiety.

However radically I show myself love, no matter how much acceptance I get from the people who matter most to me, the idea of being misunderstood still makes my stomach queasy. And those comments yesterday did all of that and more.

“You’re not that girl anymore, Daphne. You have choices in front of you.”

“Cameron suggested that I take down my socials,” I say. My palms grow sweaty. “But I can’t do that.”

Erin gives me a sympathetic glance. “When was the last time you took a break from posting?”

“When I got the flu two winters ago.” I bite my lip, trying to calm my nerves.

“Okay, that’s a long time. You use your account to spread awareness about mental health, but your mental health is just as important to your community. You’re allowed to take some time away to care for yourself.”

I blink at her. Of course. “I’m a hypocrite.”

“You’re hardly a hypocrite. You’re being dealt a difficult situation that few of us know how to handle.

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