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“It’s not easy.” She adjusted her glasses as she watched me. “You have the power to change your life, Ghost. You just need to believe in yourself and take that first step toward healing. How did you feel about your father’s death?”
“His death...” I faltered, taking a moment to collect myself. “In some ways, it was a relief. I was finally free from his torment. But it was too late for Adam. And, even though he’s gone, he’s still there, inside me, haunting my thoughts and dreams. I can’t seem to escape him.”
“Ghost,” Maggie said, placing her pen down on her notepad, “it’s important for you to understand that your father’s actions were not your fault. You didn’t deserve the abuse you suffered, and it’s okay to feel a mix of emotions about his passing. Grief is complicated, and healing takes time.”
I nodded. I didn’t tell Maggie that I didn’t feel an ounce of grief for the man and I’d been glad when he died. Frankly, I didn’t feel guilty about it either. He was a fucked up man that had carelessly ruined many lives and even when I was younger, I had understood that.
“Your father’s alcoholism and abuse have clearly left deep scars,” Maggie acknowledged, her eyes filled with empathy. “But remember that you’re safe here — you can share your feelings without fear of judgment or retribution.”
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Safe? The concept felt so foreign, even now. Yet there was something undeniably comforting about Maggie’s presence, her years of unwavering support providing a sense of stability I had never known. In a strange way, it almost made me feel invincible.
“You’re doing so great, Ghost. I want to gently shift our focus to Adam. You mentioned him and you’ve never talked about him before. I’d like to hear a bit about him.” Maggie paused, giving me a moment to process. “Let’s talk about your relationship with him.”
At the mention of my stepbrother, my breath hitched. The guilt and sadness that swirled beneath the surface threatened to burst forth. My eyes darted around the room, avoiding Maggie’s gaze. Her office was filled with books and the faint smell of lavender, which did little to calm my frayed nerves. This was new territory, and I didn’t really want to explore it right now.
I fought to keep my voice steady as I spoke. “We were close ... as close as two people could be in that hellhole we called home. He was my rock, my confidant — the one person who understood what it was like to live in constant fear of our father’s wrath. He was always trying to protect me. “
“Sounds like you two had a strong bond,” Maggie remarked, probing but cautious. “I understand that he took his own life some years ago.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. My grip on my own arm tightened, nails digging into my flesh, seeking grounding in the pain. I hadn’t ever spoken to anyone about his suicide. “When he ... committed suicide, it was like a part of me died with him. I’ve never really forgiven myself for not being there when he needed me the most.”
She shifted in her seat. “Ghost, it’s important to remember that your stepbrother’s decision was his own. You bear no responsibility for it. It’s natural to feel guilt and sadness, but those emotions don’t define you or your worth as a person,” Maggie reassured, her eyes locked onto mine, unwavering in their sincerity.
“Maybe,” I conceded, my voice thick with emotion. “But the truth is, I still struggle to process his loss. It’s like this gaping wound that refuses to heal, a constant reminder of the pain and suffering we both endured.”
“Sharing this with me is a huge breakthrough, Ghost. I’m proud of you.” She was studying me with a mix of compassion and curiosity. “Tell me, do you think Adam would blame you for his suicide if he were here today?”
At first, I was shocked by her question. But then I sat back and thought about it. Deep in my heart, I knew Adam didn’t blame me. “No.”
Her gaze was intense. “Would he want you to blame yourself?”
“No.” The answer was simple in its truth.
She nodded. “Did you share any interests or hobbies with Adam?”
“Yeah,” I said, managing a weak smile at the thought of our shared moments. “We both loved music, writing songs together. It’s part of what led me to where I am today. He was so talented, Maggie. He deserved so much better than the life we had.”
“Yes, you both did.” She paused for a long moment.”Can you tell me about how you learned about Adam’s suicide?” Her eyes never left mine, offering a sense of safety despite the despair that threatened to swallow me whole.
“Found him,” I choked out, my heart pounding against my chest. “I found him hanging in his room. There was no note, no explanation. Just... gone.”
“Ghost,” Maggie said, her voice thick with empathy, “it’s not uncommon for survivors of suicide to experience feelings of guilt and sadness. But remember, none of it was your fault.”
“Intellectually, I know that,” I admitted, feeling like I’d been stabbed in the chest. “But my heart ... It feels like I failed him somehow. Like if I’d just been there more, or listened better ... maybe he’d still be here.”
“Survivor’s guilt is a powerful emotion, Ghost. It’s natural for you to feel this way, but healing from the loss is possible.” As she spoke, I could see the sincerity in her eyes, a flicker of hope struggling to hold on amidst the darkness. Was it possible that I’d ever escape the pain or the ghosts of my past?
“Thank you for sharing these memories and feelings with me,” Maggie nodded encouragingly. “It takes immense courage to confront the demons of our past, but doing so can pave the way for healing and personal growth. Healing is a gradual process, and it takes time to work through everything. I want you to know that you’ve come a long way since we first started working together. Do you remember when you first started seeing me?”
Her words made me pause for a moment, the memory of our first few encounters lightening the heavy mood that had descended. A brief smile flickered across my face as I remembered our first session. I hadn’t exactly been a model patient back then. I’d been ordered by a judge to see Maggie for anger management after getting arrested for disorderly conduct. Scoffing at the idea of therapy, I dismissed Maggie and her entire profession as a waste of time.
“I remember. I was an absolute nightmare.” A hint of self-deprecation colored my tone. “I didn’t believe in any of this ‘touchy-feely’ stuff, and I definitely didn’t believe that you could help me.”
Maggie chuckled softly. “Yes, I remember. But you were also someone who was hurting, even if you refused to admit it at the time. And I saw potential in you, Ghost — potential for growth and change.”
“Sometimes I wonder how you managed to put up with me,” I mused, shaking my head in disbelief. “But you did. You didn’t give up on me, even when I was hell-bent on pushing you away.”
“Because I believed in you,” she replied, her eyes warm and steady. “And I still do. You’ve come a long way, and you should be proud of yourself. Change doesn’t happen overnight, but you’re making progress.”
