In the quiet, dimly lit room where countless souls had unburdened their pasts, she sat across from me, her hands nervously clasped together. The soft glow of the lamp cast long shadows, accentuating the deep lines etched into her face—a face that had once been smooth, youthful, and full of life. The scars on her skin told a story of pain, of desperation, and of a woman who had gone to great lengths to alter the very essence of who she was. But it was her eyes that revealed the deepest wounds, the ones no surgery could ever heal.
She shifted slightly in her chair, the fabric of her dress rustling in the stillness. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, thick with exhaustion and years of unspoken sorrow. Her gaze remained fixed on her lap, as if ashamed of the person she had become.
“Tell me what happened,” I prompted gently, leaning forward. I could sense that beneath her fragile exterior lay a story of deep yearning, one that had driven her to the edge of self-destruction.
She sighed deeply, her hands trembling. “It started with my breasts,” she confessed, her voice tinged with regret. “I thought if they were just a little fuller, I would feel more confident, more attractive. My husband… he would look at me like he used to.”
I nodded, letting her words settle. “And did it work?” I asked softly, though I already knew the answer.
“At first, it felt like a new beginning,” she admitted, a faint flicker of excitement in her eyes. “I looked in the mirror and thought, ‘This is it, this is what I’ve been missing.’ But it didn’t last. The compliments from strangers felt hollow. My husband noticed, but it wasn’t enough. I still felt… empty.”
Her voice faltered, the pain in her eyes evident. “So, I thought maybe it was my lips. They were too thin, too plain. I thought, ‘If they were fuller, more sensual, maybe then he’d see me, really see me.’ So, I got them done.”
She touched her lips lightly, as if still feeling the sting of the needle. “But it didn’t help,” she whispered. “I looked in the mirror and saw someone who wasn’t me. But I couldn’t stop. It was like I was on this treadmill, running faster and faster, but never getting anywhere.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Next, it was my cheekbones. I wanted that high, sculpted look. The surgeons promised it would make me look younger, more defined. So, I went through with it.”
Her fingers traced the artificial sharpness of her cheeks. “But each time… each time I did something, I lost a little more of myself. The woman in the mirror became a stranger. And still… still, he didn’t look at me the way I wanted him to.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and I reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “It sounds like each procedure took you further away from the person you were.”
She nodded, tears flowing freely now. “I thought if I could just change enough… if I could become someone different, someone better, he would love me like he did when I was younger, when my skin was smooth and unblemished. But nothing worked. I even had liposuction around my hips, trying to get that perfect hourglass figure. But the more I changed, the more I felt like I was disappearing.”
The room was filled with her soft sobs, and I waited, giving her space to grieve for the person she had lost in her quest for perfection. When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears. “I thought if I could make my skin smooth, like when I was a baby… like when he was my father in that past life… I could feel that love again. But now I see… I was chasing a ghost.”
I leaned in, my voice soft but firm. “Tell me more about that memory,” I urged gently. “The one where you were a baby.”
She closed her eyes, her expression softening as she allowed herself to go back to that time. “It was… perfect,” she whispered, her voice filled with a longing that echoed through the room. “I was so small, so helpless, but I never felt afraid. He would hold me, and I could feel his love. It was like the world melted away, and all that existed was that connection between us. My skin… it was soft, untouched by the world’s harshness. And in his eyes, I saw myself… perfect, just as I was.”
Her voice quivered, and I could see the tears returning, but this time there was something more—a deep sadness, a longing for something that had been lost long ago. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to recreate that feeling. But no matter what I did, no matter how many procedures I went through… it was never enough. I could never feel that love again.”
Her tears flowed harder now, each one a testament to the years of pain and confusion that had led her here. “I thought I could bring it back,” she said, her voice shaking. “I thought if I could make my skin soft and smooth, like it was then, I could feel that love again. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”
I could see she was teetering on the edge of an emotional abyss, the memories of her past life beginning to merge with the anguish of her present. It was time to guide her deeper, to help her find the connection between these two lives.
“Let’s explore that memory further,” I suggested, my voice calm and steady. “I’m going to help you relax even more, so we can understand what’s really happening here.”
I began the induction, using a progressive relaxation technique to guide her deeper into a state of hypnosis. “Focus on your breathing,” I instructed, my voice soothing and rhythmic. “With each breath, feel your body becoming lighter, more relaxed. Starting from your toes, imagine a wave of calm washing over you, releasing any tension, any stress.”
She followed my guidance, her breaths becoming slower, more measured. “Now, imagine yourself at the top of a staircase,” I continued. “With each step you take down, you’ll feel more and more at peace, more deeply connected to your inner self. Step by step, you’re moving closer to that place where all your memories, all your experiences are stored.”
I watched as her body relaxed further into the chair, her face softening as she descended the staircase in her mind. “When you reach the bottom, you’ll be in a safe, peaceful place,” I told her. “A place where you can explore your memories without fear, without judgment.”
A few moments passed before she spoke again, her voice distant but calm. “I’m there,” she said softly. “It’s… it’s a garden. It feels so familiar.”
“Good,” I encouraged her. “Now, go to that place in the garden where you feel the most at ease. This is where you can connect with the memories you need to understand.”
She nodded, her breathing steady. “I see a bench… under a tree. The sun is shining through the leaves. It feels so warm, so comforting.”
“Sit there,” I instructed gently. “And when you’re ready, allow the memory of being a baby in your father’s arms to come to you.”
There was a long silence before she spoke again, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’m in his arms… I can feel his love, just like before. It’s so strong, so pure.”
“Now,” I guided her, “I want you to look into his eyes. What do you see?”
There was a pause, and then a small gasp escaped her lips. “It’s him… but it’s also me. I can see myself reflected in his eyes… as I am now.”
The realization washed over her like a tidal wave, and I could see the tears beginning to fall again. “I see now,” she whispered. “I was always looking for that love outside of myself, but it was here all along. I just didn’t know how to find it.”
“That’s right,” I affirmed, my voice filled with warmth. “That love is a part of you, and it’s always been there. You don’t need to change yourself to feel it. You just need to accept yourself, just as you are.”
She sat with this realization for a moment, her tears of sorrow slowly turning into tears of relief. “But how do I hold onto this?” she asked, her voice still trembling. “How do I keep this love, this acceptance, when I wake up?”
“It’s about making peace with your past and your present,” I explained. “When you wake up, I want you to carry this feeling of love with you. You’ll remember that you are worthy of love just as you are, without needing to change a thing. And each time you look in the mirror, you’ll see that love reflected back at you.”
I allowed her a few more moments in the safe, peaceful space of her mind before guiding her back. “Now, it’s time to return,” I said gently. “You’ll leave the garden, knowing that the love you found there is always within you. Slowly, you’ll ascend the staircase, bringing with you the peace and acceptance you’ve found. With each step, you’ll feel more awake, more present, and when you reach the top, you’ll be fully aware
, feeling refreshed and at ease.”
I watched as her breathing shifted, becoming deeper and more alert. “When you’re ready, you can open your eyes,” I instructed softly.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked a few times as if adjusting to the light. The change in her was palpable—there was a new calmness, a softness in her expression that hadn’t been there before.
“How do you feel?” I asked, already sensing the answer.
“I feel… lighter,” she replied, her voice soft but steady. “I feel like I’ve been carrying this weight for so long, and now… it’s finally gone.”
I smiled, feeling a surge of hope for her. “That’s the power of self-acceptance,” I said gently. “It frees you from the need to be anything other than who you are.”
She nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “Thank you for helping me see that I’m worth more than all of this.”
“You are,” I affirmed. “You always have been.”
As we concluded the session, I knew it was important to establish closure with her subconscious mind. “Before we finish,” I said, “I want you to take a moment to thank your subconscious mind for guiding you through this process. It’s played a crucial role in helping you discover these truths about yourself.”
She closed her eyes briefly, a look of gratitude crossing her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, her words directed inward, to the part of herself that had been her guide on this journey.
“Your subconscious mind will continue to work for your highest good,” I continued, “helping you to integrate these insights into your everyday life. You’ll find that each day, you grow stronger in your self-love and acceptance.”
When she opened her eyes again, there was a quiet strength in them. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice firm with newfound resolve. “I’m ready to start living for myself.”
As she left the room, her steps were slow but purposeful, her gaze forward, no longer burdened by the weight of the past. I watched her go, feeling a deep sense of peace. Each case, each story, was a reminder of the incredible journey we are all on—the journey to find and embrace our true selves.
This case, more than most, illustrated the dangers of seeking love and validation from the outside world, when the true source of love is always within us. It reminded me, as it should remind all of us, that we are enough just as we are. The love we seek is not something that can be bought or earned through perfection, but something that exists within us, waiting to be discovered.
In the end, it’s not the surgeries, the enhancements, or the external beauty that defines us. It’s the love we give ourselves, the acceptance of who we are, scars and all. And that is the most beautiful truth of all—the realization that we are worthy of love, simply because we exist.
