Ive always liked to start my mornings with the window flung open. In early spring the air is crisp, the soft light pools on the sill, and from the neighbours garden I can hear the chatter of early walkers and the brief trill of a robin. While the kettle boils, I fire up my laptop and the first thing I do is check Telegram. Over the past two years that channel has become more than a work tool for Holly; its turned into a sort of diary of her professional observations. She shares tips with colleagues, answers followers questions and walks through the usual headaches of her fieldalways politely, never preachy, and with a patient tolerance for others mistakes.
On a typical weekday her schedule is chopped up minute by minute: video calls with clients, document checks, a flood of emails. Even between tasks she sneaks a glance at the channel. New messages pop up constantlysomeone asking for advice, someone thanking her for a clear explanation of a tricky point. Occasionally a follower suggests a topic for the next post or shares a personal story. After two years Holly has come to rely on the community as a genuine support hub and a place to swap knowhow.
The morning passes peacefully: a few fresh questions under the latest post, a couple of thankyou notes for yesterdays piece on legal nuances, a colleague sending a link to a fresh article. She jots down a few ideas for future posts, smiles, and closes the tab, ready for a busy day ahead.
Around lunch Holly returns to Telegram during a short break after a call. Her eyes lock on an odd comment under the new postan unfamiliar handle, a sharp tone. The author accused her of being unprofessional and called her advice useless. She decides not to reply at first, but an hour later she spots more of the same, all written in an equally accusatory, dismissive style. The complaints repeat: alleged errors in her material, doubts about her credentials, snide remarks about theorists advice.
She tries to respond calmly and with evidence to the first remark, pointing to sources and explaining her reasoning. Yet the wave of negativity only grows: new comments allege dishonesty and bias, some hint at personal dislike, others mock the way she writes.
That evening she tries to distract herself with a walk. The sun hasn’t set yet, the air is gentle, the scent of freshly cut grass drifts from the communal lawns. Still, her thoughts keep drifting back to the phone screen, rehearsing possible replies. How can she prove her competence? Does she even need to prove anything to strangers? Why has a place that once felt safe turned into a torrent of judgment?
In the days that follow the situation escalates. Every new post draws dozens of identical critical comments and snide jokes; the handful of grateful messages and constructive questions have all but vanished. Holly finds herself checking the channel with a knot in her stomach, her palms sweating at each notification. At night she stares at the laptop screen, trying to pinpoint what set the audience off.
By the fifth day she cant concentrate on her work; the channel reappears in her mind over and over. It feels as if years of effort might be undone by this flood of distrust. She almost stops replying to commentsevery word feels exposed, every sentence too fragile. Holly feels a loneliness inside the space that used to seem welcoming.
One evening she opens the channel settings. Her fingers tremble more than usual; she holds her breath before hitting the button to disable comments. Then she types a short note: Friends, Im taking a weeks break. The channel will be paused while I rethink how we communicate. The last lines are hardest to writeshe wants to explain everything or apologise to loyal readers, but she simply lacks the strength.
When the pause notification pops up over the feed, relief mixes with emptiness. The evening is warm, and through the halfopen kitchen window a fresh herb scent drifts in. She shuts the laptop and sits at the table in silence, listening to the street voices and wondering whether she can ever return to the work that once brought her joy.
The quiet after disabling the channel feels strange at first. She still reaches for the phone, but now theres a sense of release: no need to defend, no need to craft the perfect reply for everyone.
On the third day of the break the first messages arrive. A colleague writes briefly, I see the silenceif you need support, Im here. A few more follow from people who know Holly personally or have been longtime readers. Some share similar experiences, talking about their own brushes with criticism and how hard it is not to take the barbs to heart. She reads each line slowly, returning to the warm ones again and again.
In private messages followers mostly ask, What happened? Are you okay? Their tone is caring and surprisedthis channel had become a place of professional dialogue and support for them. Holly is struck that, despite the earlier wave of negativity, the majority now reach out sincerely, without demands. Some simply thank her for past posts or recall a tip that helped them years ago.
One evening she receives a long email from a junior colleague in another city: Ive been following you from the start. Your material helped me land my first role in the field and gave me the confidence to ask questions. That message lingers longer than the rest; Holly feels a strange mix of gratitude and mild embarrassment, as if someone reminded her of something important shed almost forgotten.
Gradually the tension gives way to reflection. Why did a handful of nasty comments eclipse hundreds of calm, thankful replies? She recalls cases from her practice: clients arriving upset after a failed encounter with another adviser, then finding confidence after a simple explanation from her. She knows from experience that support fuels progress far more than criticism; it gives people the strength to keep going even when quitting seems easier.
Holly rereads her earliest channel poststhose were written freely, without fearing the imagined court of strangers. Back then she wrote for colleagues as plainly as she would speak at a roundtable after a conference. Now those pieces feel especially alive precisely because they were crafted without fear of ridicule.
At night she watches the branches outside her windowdense green foliage forming a wall between her flat and the street. During the week she lets herself move slower: breakfast now includes fresh cucumbers and radishes from the market, she strolls the shady garden paths after work, sometimes chats on the phone with peers, sometimes simply sits in quiet.
By the end of the week the internal fear starts to loosen. Her professional community proves sturdier than the fleeting wave of negativity; friendly messages and colleagues stories restore her sense of purpose. Holly feels a tentative urge to return to the channelbut on her own terms: no longer trying to please everyone or answering every jab.
In the final two days of the break she digs into Telegrams channel settings. She discovers she can restrict discussions to registered members, swiftly delete unwanted posts, or appoint trusted colleagues as moderators to help during spikes. Those technical tools give her confidence: now she has ways to protect herself and her readers from a repeat of the previous episode.
On the eighth day she wakes early, calm, the decision already settled. She opens the laptop by the kitchen window; sunlight floods the table and the floor beside the sill. Before reopening the channel to the public, she writes a brief note: Friends! Thank you to everyone who supported me personally and by letter. Im back with a refreshed approach: discussions are now limited to group members; the rules are simplemutual respect is mandatory for all participants. She adds a couple of lines about the importance of keeping the professional space open for constructive exchange while shielding it from aggression.
The first new post is shorta practical tip on a tricky issue of the weekand the tone remains the samecalm and friendly. Within an hour the first responses appear: thanks for the return, questions about the topic, short notes of encouragement. One colleague simply writes, Weve missed you.
Holly feels a familiar lightness inside hera feeling that survived the heavy week of doubt and silence. She no longer needs to prove her competence to those who only want to argue; she can now channel her energy where its truly welcomedin the professional community of peers and followers.
That evening she takes another walk at sunset: the garden trees cast long shadows on the paved paths, the air cools after the days sun, and voices drift from nearby houses as people settle down for dinner or chat on the phone. This time her thoughts drift toward fresh ideas for future posts and potential collaborations with colleagues from other towns, not toward the anxiety of the past days.
She once again feels part of something largerunafraid of random attacks from the outside, confident in her right to hold an honest, open dialogue just as she always has.
