Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Kara, you may not think so, but you’re doing amazing. The very fact that you’re here in therapy signifies you’re on your way to healing. It’s a journey that may take weeks, months or even years, but each destination begins with one step and I’m honored you’ve chosen me to be your partner in this journey.”
“Unfortunately, that’s our time for today but I think we made some great progress. This visit is a marked improvement from your first few sessions where you barely spoke. Your homework before our next session is to write a letter to your bully. I want you to say everything you didn’t have a chance to when you saw her. This isn’t for the purpose of sending it to her. Ultimately that’s up to you, but it will help you organize your thoughts and to better process some of your trauma. Bring it with you at your next appointment and we’ll discuss.”
Kara stands up and dabs her eyes with the tissue again. “Thanks Zora. Time seems to zoom by with each session. Thank for listening to me ramble for an hour.”
“It’s my pleasure. Take care of yourself, okay?”
She nods before leaving my office.
Once the door closes behind her, I slump in my seat and release a heavy sigh.
This session hit so close to home for me, while Kara was telling me about some of the things she’d suffered in high school, I was experiencing flashbacks. She’s not the first client of mine who’s spoken of a traumatic experience due to bullying but so much of Kara’s story paralleled my own, except hers was slightly different. A popular boy had taken interest which made some of the other girls so jealous they started a campaign of hate against her.
The only difference between her story and mine is the boy at the center of my nightmarish high school experience bullied me because I didn’t belong and in turn his followers seemed to think it was okay to make my life hell.
The catalyst for Kara’s bullying was teenage angst, not that I’m minimizing what clearly affects her to this day but it makes me think about memories I’ve fought so hard to overcome.
My life has no way been perfect since graduation but I’ve managed to leave that town and get my bachelor and masters degree in psychology and I’m a licensed mental health counselor. I make a decent living, have an active social life, and have even dated. My love life hasn’t been particularly stellar but I’m far removed from the isolated outcast of my high school.
Oddly enough, I’ve run into a few of my former classmates by chance and none of those encounters have ever sparked any particular traumatic response. But then again, none of them were Jackson Champion.
I haven’t set eyes on him in person in 12 years, not since the night of the graduation party when he…
I shake my head to dispel unwanted memories. I refuse to think about my past…or him. However, when I go back home to visit my Dad, the local newspapers write about the financial wunderkind who branched out into venture capitalism to build his own financial empire. Thankfully I’ve never physically run into him. Last I heard he was bicoastal, splitting his time between Los Angeles and New York City. Not that I’m keeping up with him. I read it somewhere by accident. Otherwise, I couldn’t care less.
How coincidental that Kara felt some kind of cosmic betrayal to see her tormenter doing well in life while mine seemed to be thriving as well. To be fair, I expected nothing less. Men like him always seemed to get by in life while people like me have to live with the scars and try to make it through each day without falling apart.
I’m a survivor though. If I ever see him again, it will be with my head held high. He no longer has any power over me.
A light tap on my door brings me out of my silent musings.
“Come in,” I call out.
The door opens and Dr. Becker, the owner of the practice sticks his head in. “I saw your client leave. Do you have a minute?”
I paste a smile on my face and beckon him inside. “Of course, Dr. Becker.”
His affable smile slips for a moment. “I thought we established that you’d call me Owen.”
As bosses went, I can’t complain. At the last facility I worked at my boss Dr. Miranda Paul put on a big act that everyone was a big happy family. I saw right though that act right away. She was the type to get friendly with everyone so that she could learn about their personal lives and then weaponize any secret shared with her. I wanted to keep my work and home life separate. So I was polite but kept a respectful distance.