15
CATASTROPHIZING
Journal Entry #32—September 20, 2016
I’m never going to get better. I feel like I spent the last three months climbing my way out of a deep, dark hole, and I just lost my grip and fell all the way back down to the bottom again. I don’t know if I even want to try anymore.
Tessa’s vision swam as she tried to focus on the handwritten words in her thought journal. She sat listlessly in her beanbag chair, dressed in a pair of rumpled pajamas.
Since the argument with Scott three days ago, she could barely summon the energy to leave her bed. She hadn’t moved a muscle, except to dial Scott’s phone number. He’d finally texted back this evening, but her relief had evaporated the moment she read the message.
Scott: Stop calling. It’s over. Don’t make me change my number.
Tessa felt her eyes welling up again, and she swiped an angry hand across her lids. To hell with Scott. As if she were some kind of pathetic stalker who couldn’t take a hint…
At least his message had shaken her out of her lethargy enough to pick up her journal. She had to keep writing, she told herself. Keep going. It didn’t even matter what it said. Just fill up one page so she had something to show for herself at the next therapy session.
She hunched forward in the beanbag, shoulders slumped, as she put her pen back to the paper.
I could’ve dealt with losing Taylor, or even losing Scott. But both of them? In the space of a day? How do I bounce back from that? There’s nothing left. It’s hopeless.
Tessa closed her eyes, trying to channel her inner therapist’s voice. She knew what Dr. Regan would say when she read this entry back. Tessa, do you think it’s possible that you’re catastrophizing?
She remembered when Dr. Regan first explained the concept. Catastrophizing: a form of distorted thinking that made problems seem more insurmountable than they truly were. Was that what she was doing?
Tessa shook her head, and her pen flashed across the page.
It’s not catastrophizing if it’s actually a catastrophe! A real catastrophe. Sometimes horrible things actually happen. I can’t just pretend like they didn’t!
With a shaky breath, Tessa flipped the journal closed. It wasn’t helping. All she felt right now was an overwhelming bitterness. She didn’t know whom she hated most. Scott, for his blithe dismissal? Dr. Regan, for her emotionless reserve? Or Taylor…Taylor, the liar, who brought her whole world crashing down with his oh-so-clever jokes and innuendoes.
She needed a distraction—anything to soothe away the painful ache inside her chest. Her eyes landed on her phone, and Tessa crossed the room to pick it up. Even if she didn’t have a single person in the world who actually cared about her, she still had Eric Thorn.
Tessa plugged in her earphones and pulled up her favorite song. “Talk to me, Eric,” she whispered. “Tell me a secret. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
As if in answer to her request, his soft, smooth tenor voice sang the opening verse of “Aloe Vera.”
We lingered on your terrace.
I drank up all your wine.
You said, “Baby, take your clothes off.
Get rid of those tan lines.”
With a low moan, Tessa pressed her thumb down against the volume button until the music hurt her ears. Eric’s voice pounded inside her skull, too loud to bear for long. But not quite loud enough to drown out the burning anger.
I fell asleep to the sound of your voice
Whispering to me.
But you left me there to blister.
Ran off with the only key.
• • •
Taylor @EricThornSucks
@TessaHeartsEric I swear I’m not a bad guy. Talk to me? Please?
Eric sat up in his hotel bed, looking over his recent tweets. He’d been tweeting at Tessa for days with no reply. His account looked utterly dead now.
He banged the back of his head against the headboard.
He knew it was probably hopeless at this point. He should cut his losses. Deactivate the account. Forget she ever existed. And yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull the trigger. He’d grown accustomed to their nightly chats—downright dependent on them, apparently. He’d finally found a safe place to vent his worries and frustrations, and she offered more than just a sympathetic ear. She had this sixth sense for telling him whenever he was exaggerating.
No, he thought. Not exaggerating. What was that word she used the other day?
Catastrophizing.
Pretty sure that’s not a word, he’d replied. But it was a word—another psychobabble term he’d looked up afterward on Wikipedia—and she was damned good at catching him whenever he was guilty of the crime.
Now she wanted nothing more to do with him, and he couldn’t shake the sense of loss. Life had felt less bleak these past few weeks. He’d even started smiling again.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t sleep these days. Maybe it was the sinking realization that, without her in his life, he had nothing left to smile about.
Or was he just catastrophizing?
“Come on, Tessa,” he whispered to his phone. “Come back. You can’t really be that mad.”
He started entering another useless tweet:
Taylor @EricThornSucks
@TessaHeartsEric I can’t sleep. I miss talking to you.
He rubbed his eyes wearily, his finger hovering over the Tweet button. What difference did it make, really, whether he sent it or not? He had zero followers. No one would hear him either way.
Eric set the phone back on his nightstand and switched off the lamp.
Sleep. He needed sleep. The dark circles under his eyes were growing deeper by the day. He’d heard the makeup artists whispering about it behind his back. They could only cover it up for so long before the record label got on his case.
He rolled over in bed again and reached to plump his pillow, but a flash of color from his nightstand caught the corner of his eye.
His phone?
A notification?
He grabbed it and let out a yelp of triumph. At last. She’d answered. A new tweet:
Tessa H @TessaHeartsEric
@EricThornSucks thanks for ruining my life.
The message probably should have discouraged him, but he couldn’t prevent the crooked grin that popped onto his face. She was still out there somewhere. He hastily sent back a reply, before she could ghost on him again.
Taylor @EricThornSucks
@TessaHeartsEric ok now who’s catastrophizing?
Eric waited to see if she would tweet back, but the minutes ticked by. At least she’d unblocked him. Her profile was visible to him again, no longer hidden away behind an error message.
He longed to DM her, but Twitter wouldn’t let him go that far. She hadn’t refollowed him. He could only reply by tweeting at her again.
Taylor @EricThornSucks
@TessaHeartsEric what happened??? follow me back so we can DM
Eric had gotten out of bed now. He paced back and forth across the spacious room with his phone gripped in his hand, and he bounced on the balls of his feet when the next notification hit his screen.
Tessa H (@TessaHeartsEric) followed you.
“Yes,” he murmured, as he flipped back to the message tab again. She had already added another new DM, but he barely paused to read it.
Tessa H: Don’t think this means I’m talking to you again.
Taylor: Tessa, I’m sorry you thought I was a girl. It was an innocent mistake. I swear.
Tessa H: Right…sure…and you just happen to be the ONLY male Eric Thorn fan on the face of the earth. Is that it?
Taylor: I never said I was a fan! I believe I called him a narcissistic douche nozzle. Does that ring any bells?
Tessa H: And you know all his songs by heart because…why exactly?
Taylor: It’s complicated.
Tessa H: In other words, you’re full of shit.
Taylor: No. In other words, it’s gonna take me more than 140 characters to explain. Take a breath, please.
Eric sat down on the edge of the bed. The truth was, she had a point. He’d seen the demographics from his recent album sales, and males didn’t even make up one percent. Not that he needed a pie chart to tell him that. All he had to do was look out over the crowds of screaming girls at his concerts.
Eric scrunched his mouth to the side as he cast about for some kind of believable explanation.
Taylor: OK, here’s the deal.
Taylor: I used to be a fan back before he got signed. He used to be good.
Taylor: I mean, he still is. I listen to all his new stuff too.
Taylor: I just think he shouldn’t need to do the Magic Mike routine to sell it. That’s why I get so pissed off at him sometimes.
Taylor: And with the fangirls too. Maybe he wouldn’t parade around half-naked if he didn’t have girls screaming at him to take his shirt off every five seconds.
There. He hadn’t technically lied, had he? He really was his own biggest fan, back before he got his record deal. He’d started out as nothing more than a kid with a guitar and an unshakable belief in his own talent. He’d refused to listen whenever his friends laughed or his parents told him he was wasting his time. He’d spent two long years posting video after video on YouTube before he finally got his big break.
It was a half-baked version of the facts, but technically not untrue. Eric held his breath, waiting to see how Tessa would respond.
Tessa H: So why did you start talking to me if you hate fangirls so much?
Taylor: I didn’t start talking to you. I attacked you. Remember? You’re the one who started talking to me.
Tessa H: Reverse psychology
Taylor: I’m not that smart.
Tessa H: How do I know that?
Taylor: I’m stupid, OK? You caught me. Guilty. I’m very, very stupid. But I’m not some kind of predator. C’mon, you know I’m not.
Tessa H: Why should I believe a single word you say?
Taylor: I don’t know, Tessa. What reason would I possibly have to lie?
Eric covered his face with his hand, reading the words between his fingers. Why did he feel like a total creeper right now? It wasn’t like he could tell Tessa the whole truth anyway. How would that conversation go? Surprise! I’m actually Eric Thorn, and this is my secret second profile! She’d write him off as a compulsive liar and unfollow him once and for all.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, he told himself. It was a little white lie at most. If it ever seemed like any harm might come of it, all he had to do was end things. Say good-bye. Deactivate the account. And Taylor the phantom fanboy would disappear into Twitter oblivion.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eric knew that he probably should have deactivated already. He’d been on the receiving end of his share of little white lies. He knew they had a nasty way of changing color when viewed from someone else’s vantage point.
But he couldn’t deactivate now. Not when he finally had her talking again.
Taylor: So are you going to tell me how I ruined your life or what?
Tessa H: Scott
Taylor: What about Scott?
Tessa H: I fell asleep to the sound of your voice whispering to me…
Taylor: What does that mean?
Tessa H: Hmmmm. I thought you were such a huuuuge fan
Taylor: I know it’s a line from “Aloe Vera.” What does it have to do with Scott?
Tessa H: We lingered on your terrace. I drank up all your wine.
Taylor: Is this a test?
Tessa H: You tell me. What’s the next line?
Eric let out a growl of irritation. Honestly, Tessa. If she’d had the faintest clue who she was talking to…
Taylor: You said, “Baby, take your clothes off. Get rid of those tan lines.”
Tessa H: No. YOU said, “Baby, take your clothes off.”
Taylor: Isn’t that what I just wrote?
Tessa H: I believe your exact words were: “Take it all off, baby.” Scroll up. Our last conversation.
Taylor: What? That thing? I was talking about feet!
Tessa H: Scott didn’t find that very amusing for some reason.
Taylor: What happened?
Tessa H: I fell asleep to the sound of your voice whispering to me. What’s the next line?
Taylor: But you left me there to blister. Ran off with the only key.
Tessa H: Exactly. I got burned. I was depressed, I fell asleep, and Scott found my phone.
Taylor: He broke up with you?
Tessa H: Let’s just say he wasn’t very pleased that I’d been flirting for the past month with some guy I met on Twitter.
Taylor: Shit, Tessa.
Tessa H: Yup. I believe his exact words were, “I’m killing myself playing the dutiful boyfriend over here, and you’re off sexting some loser.”
Taylor: Sexting? How were we sexting?
Tessa H: “C’mon. Tweet a nude. I’ll do it if you do…”
Taylor: It was a picture of your bunny slippers! He’s never heard of sarcasm?
Tessa H: I don’t think he actually looked at the picture.
Taylor: Well, it sounds like you two just need to talk. I’m sure if you explain…
Tessa H: He won’t return my calls, Taylor.
Taylor: He just said that thing about sexting and left?
Tessa H: No, I think he threw my phone at me and called me a cheating ho-bag first.
Eric squinted at his phone, trying to picture the scene. Something about it stirred a memory, and he let out a muffled gasp when he realized what it was.
Taylor: Wait a minute. I know what happened.
Tessa H: I just told you what happened.
Taylor: No, no. Hold on a sec.
He’d read it a month ago now—almost an exact description of Scott’s behavior. Of course… It was the first night he and Tessa started talking. He navigated over to Wikipedia and pulled up the entry for projection.
There it was, in the section on practical examples.
Bullying…
Blaming the victim…
Justifying infidelity…
Bingo.
Eric took a screenshot and added the image to the DM conversation.
Justifying infidelity: The cheating partner may project his own unfaithful thoughts or actions onto the innocent partner in order to justify his infidelity and assuage his own sense of guilt.
Tessa H: What is this?
Taylor: It’s projection! Maybe Scott jumped to “sexting” cuz he’s been doing a little “sexting” of his own?
Tessa H: No. No way.
Taylor: Tessa, he’s been distant with you for a while now.
Tessa H: He’s busy with school…
Taylor: Busy, my ass. I’m busy too. I still find time to talk to you.
Eric’s fingers clamped down hard on his phone. It boggled his mind how anyone could treat a girlfriend that way. Especially under the circumstances. Tessa needed someone desperately right now. She’d obviously been through some kind of trauma. Her boyfriend should’ve been first in line to offer her support.
Tessa H: He was always texting someone… God, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.
Taylor: Well, we can’t all be as sensitive and insightful as I am.
Tessa H: Spare me. You never even heard of projection before you started talking to me.
Taylor: This is true. This is why I need you to keep talking.
The conversation paused then, and Eric leaned his head against the headboard of the bed. He could sense her indecision, despite the sharpness of her tone. She needed someone, and they both knew it.
And the thing was, Eric needed her too. The past few sleepless nights had made that all too clear. He’d been coming apart at the seams without her calming influence.
Tessa H: I don’t know.
Taylor: I just want to talk. I swear, there’s nothing sinister. You help me deal with my shit. I help you deal with your shit.
Tessa H: I have to think about it.
Taylor: Tessa, please. Who else do you have to talk to now?
Tessa H: My therapist.
Taylor: But she can’t keep up with all your Eric Thorn references.
Tessa H: Are you sure you can?
Taylor: “Come on and ease this sunburn. Baby, take away my pain…”
Tessa H: Such a fanboy.
Taylor: See? We speak the same language.
Tessa H: I dunno. If I do decide to talk to you again, I need you to promise me something.
Taylor: Anything.
Tessa H: No more surprises, OK? I don’t do well with surprises. Promise me right now there’s nothing else I need to know.
Eric sucked in his breath between his teeth. No more surprises. Of all the things she could’ve asked.
But what could he say? He couldn’t refuse. She’d just get spooked and unfollow him again. And he could help her. It couldn’t be wrong if he only meant to help her.
Anyway, she didn’t need to know because she would never find out the truth. Never. Over his dead body.
With a resolute nod, he sent back his reply.
Taylor: Nothing else you need to know. I promise.