A bigger one.
Because that was when… I began to meet Cindy.
I told you, you should never have sought treatment.
Ladie sat across from me, having greeted me a few minutes earlier and entered my study. I’d been sitting on the carpet but shifted, walking over to the sofa to face her.
We spoke.
Or at least, that was how it felt.
I kept talking and talking, but it all felt empty.
There were several kinds of therapy I usually did—CBT, family therapy, social skills training, and psychosocial support. When I told Mrs Handerson about my panic, my fear, especially when people around me triggered me into an episode, she began to teach me grounding, or as I called it, counting. She even taught me breathing techniques. But for me, the quickest way waspain.
The pain that surfaced in my body would pull my focus away, and the fastest way I’d always done it was by digging my nails hard into my palms. It helped me press, focus.
I couldn’t remember the last time my palms weren’t rough—years of scars and marks, never having enough time to heal before being torn open again.
The first person to notice was Mas Zaeem. When I was sixteen, he told me there was a way to hurt yourself without actually hurting yourself. Since then, I’d gone to the gym, hours tearing my muscles apart to create that same intense pain afterwards.
I kept talking. I was sure of it—or at least, Ladie’s voice was there. “Zioh, I know clenching your hands gives you a moment’s relief, but I also hear there’s a part of you that knows it’s hurting yourself, right?”
I nodded.
The clock’s ticking filled the space as I spoke. I told her what still lingered in my mind—blurred yet vivid. So many things I’d been forced to erase, change, replace, because they all made me.
Until I began to question and doubt reality.
Was it real? Was that voice real? That smell? That person?
Even my memories—were they real, or my dreams?
I found it so hard to tell reality from not… everything felt so real, even in my sleep. And since Ladie was here, somehow it felt terrifying. The dream had been haunting me.
I saw that woman, or Tshabina.
I lunged and strangled Cindy. Or that woman. Or Tshabina.
It all felt so empty, and the cold tremor kept clawing at me even when I convinced myself it was only a dream.
A soft, calming voice reached me. “Zioh?” And somehow, miraculously, it soothed me. Ladie’s voice. It felt as though this woman had been designed and shaped to carry an aura of calm meant for people like me.
She always felt like someone.
Ladie began speaking again, gently, trying to draw me out. My gaze was vacant and unfocused as she called my name several times. After a long silence, I finally spoke again, collecting myself.
“I know… but… it feels so confusing…”
I tried to be present, to gather myself as I spoke, but the noise inside was overwhelming. I noticed I’d been shaking my head, even pounding my temples, until Ladie stopped me. “Zioh… It’s okay. Slowly. What are you hearing? What are they saying?”
Death.
I shook my head again. “I dreamed… worse this time—”
Ladie listened to my confession, a flicker crossing her face before she smoothed her expression back to calm. She wrote things down, listening intently.
It was the first time I’d been able to speak of it. In our last sessions, I’d been too lost, silent the whole time. I didn’t know how long we’d been in the therapy session before she spoke again, but the voices made her words blur.
