itsjustabaddream

{sneaking onto shitty wifi with my vpn to tag this thread specifically...}

Mary looks around. The bed is a slight surprise, until she remembers that mention of 'dream therapy'... guess it was literal.

It makes her curious -- was keeping his business so close to home a choice, or an adjustment he'd been forced to make -- but she'll ask later. Experience has taught Mary that sometimes it's better to observe and hold questions for another time.

"Oh." Mary looks, for a moment, a little flustered. Until he pointed it out, she hadn't yet put together that having a seat would involve a short climb into the chair. (At the very least, she's still stuck with her simple new arrival clothes which means pants.) Then she nods. "Yes, thank you. I will need it."

She's quick to get into the chair and take her seat once he puts the book down as an improvised step. She folds her hands in her lap, and asks,

"Where do we begin?"

[ Oho, I'm honored <3 ]

"I think that's up to you, Miss Dahl. Most people don't seek the services of a counsellor arbitrarily. Why don't we spend a moment getting to know one another and then you can tell me what motivated you to pay me a visit?" He smiles gently. "Or if you have a way you're more comfortable operating, I am all ears."

"I... yes, all right." Mary rubs one thumb against the opposite palm, under her folded hands, still nervous about saying these things aloud. Even if she's been to psychiatrists before, there's always the fear that a new person can't be trusted. She's had that trust broken so many times.

"I am the only child of my parents. They wanted more than one, but after... after they realized my condition, they were worried. Both for the risk that any siblings would be the same, and because figuring out how to treat my condition was going to cost a lot of money." She looks down, worrying her lower lip between her teeth for a moment before looking back up. "And it did. Seven years in, me still looking like a five-year-old despite the fact that I should be entering puberty, and my parents were on the verge of destitution. My mother thought that maybe I could start acting in commercials... I'm cute, and I'd behave better than the kids who were actually five."

"I... they..." Mary sighs. "They were depending on me to make the money to support us. My father still worked, but my mother quit her job to ferry me around to auditions and the like. I couldn't have quit if I wanted to. And at the time... being an actress became my dream. But it... it turned into a nightmare. And I still feel like I can't wake up from either."

Neil nods slowly. "Even though you're in a completely different place, living a whole new life, it still feels inescapable. Have you taken acting back up since arriving, or have you been doing other work?"

"I got famous because I look like this. Because I can sound like a little girl. And I still can't shake it. I know you heard it when I used the 'Baby Doll' voice at first... it's so much easier to hide behind that character! Even if I hated being Baby Doll by the end of it!"

Mary drops her gaze, and everything about her posture communicates sullenness. "I help out in a cosmetics shop here. Do you really think anyone would be able to take my acting seriously? At home, they hated my Lady Macbeth. Said I was unbelievable, and made the play a comedy just by being in it."

"I have seen people with dwarfism and members of the dwarven species alike have fulfilling careers in the entertainment industry." Hopefully Mary was aware of the presence of fantasy races in Pumpkin Hollow already. A dwarven woman by the name of Hildegard von Brodschen lives on the island and works as a musician, in fact.

"But I do wonder if the Baby Doll character is holding you back. You performed this role for... ostensibly decades? There was pressure from your parents, probably complex trauma, perhaps a challenging social life due to not being allowed to fully experience adulthood? It became a coping mechanism, and the lines of identity blurred. And that's not to say anything of the reputation it established for you. You were performing for an audience that had already decided who they believed you were. Here, that's not the case."

Mary is surprised by the differentiation, but she just blinks and files it away to research later.

"The show ran for a little over ten years. And since then, it's really all anyone knows me for..." She looks up again. "I was just trying to live my life, you know? If the only acting I could do was Baby Doll, I didn't want it. I'd get a normal job, the employer would give me reasonable accomodations... and there was always somebody who'd 'recognize' me as Baby Doll. Even without the stupid curls in my hair, even without any damned purple or pink in my wardrobe, they'd know it was me! Her! Whatever! And they all want that stupid catchphrase--"

Something about her body language changes this time, along with her voice. Her eyes go wider and she tucks her chin against one shoulder for a moment -- a little girl trying to project innocence. And she says, with a tone of sly sweetness in that 'child' voice, "I didn't mean to."

It's kind of... disturbing, how quickly she hides her own emotions to take on that old role.

Neil doesn't appear disturbed, maintaining a professional attitude. Being that he specifically specializes in trauma, he's no stranger to these sorts of coping mechanisms. He wonders if perhaps there is an element of age regression to it, but it's too soon to formally diagnose anything like that. Especially since she's an actress --- she's professionally trained in the art of leaving her own emotions and personality at the door.

He jots down some notes, then sets the notebook aside. "I think a good trajectory for you would be to figure out who you are, without 'Baby Doll'. And I think you are in the perfect place to do it. Despite the troubling circumstances under which people arrive here, you have the benefit of a completely fresh start. No one knows about your previous role here, at all, so there is no risk of recognition. No one has any preconceived notions about who you are or what you're capable of being. Plus, you are in a place where your stature may surprise people at first, but it won't stop you from being taken seriously."

With his pen in between his first two fingers, Neil shakes his hand so that the back of the pen will tap rhythmically on his notes. "But I do think you should take the time to think through what you really want and need. If you think that returning to an acting career might do more harm to your psyche than good, you may want to explore other options. Or perhaps it's simply a matter of taking the time to build your confidence, so that you don't mentally typecast yourself. Whatever the case may be, I think it's important to afford yourself quite a bit of grace and focus intently on aligning yourself with goals that are solely your own, without any past or present external influence. With the exception of other people who have this same goal in mind, such as whatever support system you build for yourself here. Myself included, I hope."

Mary nods thoughtfully. When she speaks, it's in her natural voice again. "I think... I mean, I know that people here don't know about my history. But I've always had a hard time letting go of the Baby Doll role, as much as I hate it. I was happy while I was working on the show, at least for a while. And when it was successful, people were happy with me. I do love acting and entertaining, but... what am I outside of that? Is it really the only thing that makes me happy?"

She looks a bit nervous now, before she says, "Troubling circumstances... I don't know... most people who agreed to come here, it sounds like something or someone else killed them. I feel ashamed and don't want to admit to them...that I killed myself."

Neil frowns lightly at that, empathy lighting his features.

"I would say that those are most troubling circumstances, indeed." He sets aside his notes, leaning forward a bit. "I understand why you'd feel that way. But I want you to know that while your situation is understandably quite sensitive, there is no need for shame. You were vulnerable, and many people and institutions failed you at so many thresholds. People who should have been your support network, institutions which should have concerned themselves far more with your well-being when you were working with them, a public that viewed you as a commodity instead of a human being. I can only imagine how hopeless that felt."

"I didn't realize it until after... until I was put into Arkham Asylum for a time... but, I didn't have to be like this!" She gestures down at herself. "I could have been given hormones during puberty, so I'd develop more naturally, normally... it might not have fixed everything, but it-- it would have been something."

She's crying now, and wipes at her eyes and sniffles. "I didn't have to be a freak. I could at least look like a normal little person and show my damned age, but wh-why would the studio want to ruin its cash cow? I hate them, I hate them so much!" A loud sob bursts out of her, and she ducks her head. The tears keep interrupting, but she gets the words out, slow and hiccupy as they are: "But there's nobody else left to hate anymore -- just me. I'm so tired of being in pain."

With a flick of the wrist, Dr. West uses magic to conjure an ornate handkerchief, passing it to her. "That's a terrible discovery to make," Neil says softly. "To have been deprived of the opportunity to have a body more in line with your mind, without your knowledge... That is understandably painful. But you are not a freak, nor someone deserving of hatred. You are a very strong woman who has overcome a great deal. And I would very much like to help you get to a place where you are no longer in pain."

When Mary sees the handkerchief appear, she just assumes sleight of hand. That would be the more common answer back home, anyway. She accepts the handkerchief and holds it below her eyes, each in turn, as she wipes away the tears and fresh ones well up with no sign of stopping.

"I don't know if I can. It feels... it feels like I've always hurt. Body and mind. I don't know what to do anymore." Mary takes a breath, and softly blows her nose. (She'll clean the handkerchief later, bring it back for the next appointment, probably.) "But... but if you have ideas... I suppose I can still try."

She'd given up once before, but the universe clearly wasn't finished with her yet. So... if they want an encore, Mary ought not refuse.

"Of course," Neil agrees. "As far as body pain, that is not my area of expertise, but I know we have some fantastic physicians here now. I know you've already spoken with the aptly-named Dr. First Aid, and there is Dr. Sally Boyle, the pharmacist. Additionally, I've heard tell of two other doctors opening new clinics on the island. There may also be magical assistance available."

"As for your mind, that's what you've got me for, isn't it? We'll come up with a plan and work through it as a team, alright?"

"I don't know if going back to entertainment full time would make me happy. It's always been... an all or nothing deal. Either acting was my whole life, or I was a has-been who couldn't get work in the field."

She dabs at her eyes with the handkerchief.

"Do you know... well, at home, some places would have an 'open mic night'. Performers sign up for a slot, just on that night, and provide some entertainment. If there's something like that at one of the venues here... maybe I could try that." She glances up at him. "Maybe you could come see me? I wouldn't be so nervous, I think, with someone in my corner."

"Yes, there are things like that here! It's a bit of a dive, but Empty Pockets is a popular watering hole where anyone can perform whatever they like on Sundays. You just have to be on the sign-up sheet by the prior Friday," Neil explains. "I would absolutely love to be there."

Mary smiles a little.

"Then maybe... that can be my 'homework'. Figure out an act for Sunday at Empty Pockets, and let you know when I've signed up."

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CW: suicide mention

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