Voices in a Circle: Part One - Racing Thoughts (Zoe)

Zoe’s fingers tap an erratic rhythm on her thigh. It’s not even a real beat—just her brain trying to force her body to keep up with the chaos in her head. She knows it’s annoying. Hell, even she finds it annoying. But it’s this or let the avalanche of thoughts completely overwhelm her.

She glances around the circle. James sits slouched in his chair, his hood pulled tight like armor. Elena twists her bracelet so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t snap. Lila grips her own bracelet, her hands trembling slightly. Sam stares at the floor, his jaw clenched, his shoulders rigid with tension.

“Zoe?” The therapist’s calm voice pulls her out of her head. “Would you like to share today?”

Her chest tightens. She feels every eye in the room on her. “Yeah, sure,” she says quickly, her voice louder than she intended. Sam flinches, and she winces. “Sorry,” she mutters before diving in.

“I’ve been okay,” she starts, letting out a harsh laugh. “Well, better than last month, but not really. You know how it is.”

The therapist nods, her expression encouraging but not intrusive. “What’s been feeling different for you this week?”

Zoe shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “Last week, I thought I was on top of the world. Sleeping more than three hours a night, getting shit done. So I went shopping.”

She smirks, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Spent six hundred bucks on crap I don’t need. Heels. I bought fucking heels. Me, in heels.”

Elena snorts softly, and Zoe shoots her a grateful glance. “Right? Fucking ridiculous. But it felt good. Like, really good. And then the crash came. It always does.”

Her voice drops, her hands twisting in her lap. “It’s like someone pulled the plug on my brain. Suddenly, I’m lying on the bathroom floor, staring at the ceiling, thinking, ‘What’s the fucking point? Why am I even here?’”

The therapist leans forward slightly. “What did you do in that moment, Zoe? When the crash hit?”

Zoe hesitates, her throat tightening. “Nothing. I just…laid there. Let it swallow me.” She laughs bitterly. “What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like I can just flip a switch and be okay again.”

The room stays silent for a beat too long, and Zoe braces herself for judgment. Instead, the therapist speaks gently. “That moment—the one where you let yourself feel it instead of fighting it—that’s worth noticing. It’s not about flipping a switch. It’s about riding the wave, even when it feels impossible.”

Zoe blinks, surprised by the words. “Riding the wave,” she repeats. “That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” the therapist says. “It’s survival.”

Elena shifts in her seat. “The storm doesn’t let you rest, does it?” she says, her voice softer than usual.

Zoe shakes her head. “No. It doesn’t.”

“I know that feeling,” James says quietly, his hood slipping back slightly. “Like your brain’s stuck on a loop, and you can’t fucking get off.”

“Exactly,” Zoe says sharply. “And everyone’s like, ‘Just meditate,’ or ‘Take a walk.’ Like that’s gonna fix years of my brain being a fucking mess.”

Sam nods slowly. “People love to act like it’s that simple. Like you can think your way out of it.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that,” Zoe mutters. She glances around the circle, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “At least you guys get it. That’s…something, I guess.”

“It’s a lot,” Lila says quietly, her fingers twisting her bracelet. “You’re still here, Zoe. That matters.”

Zoe exhales, her knee still bouncing but a little less frantic. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I guess it does.”