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“Progress…” I echoed, rolling the word around in my mouth like a foreign concept. “I guess I have changed, in some ways. But sometimes it feels like I’m still so numb to the world, like I’m just going through the motions.”
“Change is a slow process,” Maggie said gently, a reassuring smile gracing her lips. “And it’s okay to feel that way sometimes. The important thing is that you’re taking steps to confront your past and work towards a more open, emotionally honest self.”
“Thanks, Maggie,” I murmured, gratitude swelling in my chest. She had been the one constant in my chaotic life, the rock upon which I could anchor myself when the storms of my past threatened to overwhelm me. I knew I still had a long way to go; I still hadn’t revealed my worst secret to her, but I felt that maybe I was on the cusp of a breakthrough. Thinking about telling her my greatest shame didn’t send me into a blinding panic.
“Remember to be patient with yourself,” she added. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Ghost. And I know that you’ll find your way through this — one step at a time.”
I tried to soak in all her confidence and belief in me. Optimism didn’t come naturally to me.
“Time’s almost up,” Maggie glanced at the clock on the wall. “But before you go, I want to remind you of the importance of self-compassion.”
“Self-compassion?” I raised an eyebrow, my mind still swirling with the emotions we had delved into during our session. “Sounds kinky.”
“Not exactly.” She leaned back in her chair. “It’s about recognizing that you’re human, and it’s okay to feel pain and make mistakes. You can’t change what happened, but you can work on accepting yourself — flaws and all.”
“Sounds like a lot to ask from someone like me,” I quipped, trying to lighten the mood, but Maggie remained serious.
“I’ve seen you make tremendous progress,” she said kindly, her eyes meeting mine. “You may not see the changes in yourself, but they’re there. And as you continue to explore your emotions and past experiences, I believe you’ll be ready to open up even more of yourself to me and others.”
“Thanks, Maggie.” I tried to sound hopeful, though I couldn’t shake the lingering doubts that clung to me like cobwebs in an abandoned house.
“Change is slow, but it’s happening,” she reassured me. “Don’t give up on yourself, Ghost. You deserve happiness just as much as anyone else does.”
“Alright, Doc,” I said with a grin, standing up and stretching my stiff limbs. “I’ll give this self-compassion thing a shot.”
Maggie smiled, rising from her own seat. “Good. And remember, I’m always here if you need anything. Take care of yourself, Ghost.”
“Will do.” With a final nod, I left Maggie’s office feeling raw and exposed, yet at the same time, inexplicably lighter.
As I walked away, I felt a mix of emotions bubbling inside me. Sadness lingered from the memories we had unearthed, but there was also hope — a fragile, flickering flame that refused to be snuffed out. I wouldn’t keep coming back here if there was no hope. I was determined to confront my past and work towards a better future, no matter how long it took or how difficult it would be.
I paused for a moment in the hallway, taking a deep breath as if to inhale the promise of change that Maggie had instilled in me. Then, with newfound determination propelling me forward, I strode toward the exit, ready to face whatever life had in store for me.
“Self-compassion,” I muttered to myself, letting the word sink into my consciousness.
It was a concept I had never considered before, but now I understood that it could be the key to unlocking a better version of myself. Maybe it was time to give it a try.
Chapter 5
Remi
The newsroom at Hollywood Exposé buzzed with life, the familiar cacophony of ringing phones and clattering keyboards providing a lively soundtrack to my day. I leaned back in my chair, soaking in the frenetic energy that swirled around me like a whirlwind. This is where I felt alive, where I felt powerful. Each keystroke, each sentence weaved by my nimble fingers, held the potential to inform readers, shift perceptions, and maybe, just maybe, make a positive difference in the world.
“Remi, you’ve got a package!” Sheila, our group admin, called out as she approached my desk, her hands cradling a small box wrapped in brown paper.
“Thanks, Sheila,” I replied, taking the package from her with a curious smile. I’d never received a wrapped package at work before; I had no idea what it could be. As I tore off the paper, anticipation bubbled inside me like champagne.
Inside, I found a beautiful leather journal, its cover a deep teal hue that seemed to shimmer under the fluorescent lights. Delicate gold vines were embossed on the front, their tendrils reaching towards the spine as if yearning for an embrace. The pages, creamy and smooth beneath my fingertips, breathed with the whisper of countless untold stories.
A small envelope fell onto my lap as I admired the journal, and I quickly opened it to find a note written in my mother’s neat cursive.
Dearest Remi,
I saw this journal and thought it would be perfect for you. I wanted to remind you how proud I am of all your accomplishments and wish you the best of luck in the promotion competition. Remember to always reach for your dreams. You have the power to change people’s lives with your words. Use it wisely.
Love,
Mom
