Jeff swallows, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries again, trying to clear his head and just bring himself back down to the basics. Inhale, exhale, follow along with the rhythm of Meredith's breaths. It's hard to just zero in on that, really focus on being and breathing, when his mind keeps on trying to open the floodgates of doubt and insecurity.

Ziggy didn't make you crazy. (Breathe in.) You've always been fucked up. (Breathe out.) Rotten. (In.) He listens to Meredith. Broken. (Out.) He pictures himself holding a remote control, aiming it at his head, pushing the mute button.

It seems to help, listening, following, breathing. The bullshit in his head is still there, but it's like... white noise, for now. And more and more, he feels grounded, both feet in reality.

But fuck, he's almost afraid to open his eyes.