You would assume that people who talk to the dead would
be pale as vampires, their luminous eyes filled with
unspoken secrets and timeless wisdom. You would expect them
to speak in hushed tones, their voices floating like
whispers on a tropical breeze as they invoke spirits from
the beyond. You'd probably picture them as quiet and
introspective, pondering the mysteries of life and what lies
beyond the grave.
You would be wrong. Dead wrong.
Chantel Carrington, the new “psychic sensation” in
Cypress Grove, is none of the above. Everything about
Chantel is larger than life, strictly va-va-voom.. Think of
one of those giant Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons
bobbing over Fifth Avenue.
Big. Brash. Garish. Inescapable.
Oh yes. And full of hot air.
From her booming “Hello dahlings!” as she rolls down the
WYME corridors to her eye-popping Hawaiian muumuus, Chantel
steals the spotlight every time.
Today she was the featured guest on my afternoon radio
talk show, On the Couch with Maggie Walsh. She's been on
the show four times in the past two weeks and I hate to
admit it, but each time the ratings have skyrocketed.
It seems that my entire listening audience is jonesing to
communicate with the dearly departed, and Chantel does her
best to accommodate them. Cyrus, the station manager, is so
thrilled with her other-worldly chats that I'm sure he
salivates, just thinking about all that extra advertising
revenue pouring into WYME.
Vera Mae, my producer, and I are less happy with the
arrangement.
When I first arrived in Cypress Grove a few months ago to
host my own radio show, I'd been pretty naive about the
topics I'd be covering. A former clinical psychologist with
a cushy Manhattan practice, I'd gained quite a following for
my work in what the shrinks call “behavioral medicine.”
Behavioral medicine is based on the idea that if you
change your thinking, you can change your behavior, leading
to a more positive mental outlook. No Freudian claptrap, no
endless discussions of your dreams or Jungian archetypes.
But after a few brutal winters in the Big Apple I'd
become sick of the city, frustrated by the skyrocketing real
estate prices and worst of all, I discovered I was tired of
listening to people's problems all day long. Yes, tired of
listening to people's problems.
Some days I felt like I was trapped in a Jerry Springer
marathon.
A shocking revelation, right? Practically career suicide
to say it publicly, but there you have it. I was whipped,
emotionally drained, with nothing left to give.
I had total burn-out.
So what did I do? I diagnosed the problem and wrote my
own prescription. I made an executive decision as The
Donald would say. I knew I needed a complete change of pace,
and I made it happen. I closed up shop, transferred my
patients to a trusted colleague, sold my IKEA furniture and
moved to a sleepy Florida town.
Doctor Maggie, heal thyself.
