{"id":1293,"date":"2021-10-31T18:58:48","date_gmt":"2021-10-31T17:58:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/?page_id=1293"},"modified":"2021-10-31T18:58:48","modified_gmt":"2021-10-31T17:58:48","slug":"mother","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/mother\/","title":{"rendered":"Mother"},"content":{"rendered":"

English + French bellow<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It is already December 19th and today is your brother’s birthday.<\/p>\n

Christmas is fast approaching and I am drowning under the weight of unnecessary guilt.<\/p>\n

I hate myself, don’t deserve you. I am devastated, stranded in the emergency room of the nearest hospital.<\/p>\n

\u2018I need to see the it’s urgent, I’m in danger, please don\u2019t send me back home I’m bi-polar\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What\u2019s going on?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I am at the end of my tether.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been sleeping for weeks to avoid having to think\u2026to stop living altogether \u2026Yes indeed, I came here by myself to look for shelter from my morbid thoughts . I’m at the edge of the abyss and I can\u2019t take it anymore\u2026But I can\u2019t stop living either, I have two children; it’s for them that I\u2019m still fighting… Get it?\u2019<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t reason in color any more, my subconscious always pulls me back into darkness. My maternal instinct is all I have left.<\/p>\n

Doubtful looks\u2026Then nods of approval:<\/p>\n

\u2018Patients don\u2019t usually come here by themselves\u2026Congratulations\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

The psychiatrist and his team take me into a private room to ask me more questions \u2013 to verify my account of myself, though all too obvious.<\/p>\n

The effort to concentrate is a colossal physical and mental strain. I feel myself on the edge of the void. Fog envelops me and the wider world rests in darkness. I’m exhausted by wakeful nights, days without eating and weeks spent crying.<\/p>\n

\u2018Absolutely, I\u2019ll wait. I didn\u2019t come here only to sneak away again.\u2019<\/p>\n

Minutes feel like hours\u2026At last they come back to me.<\/p>\n

\u2018Great news! We\u2019ve found a single room for you in Becheville.\u2019<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They break the news in a condescending way \u2013 they seem surprised that I haven\u2019t heard of B\u00e9cheville.<\/p>\n

In fact, their enthusiasm is starting to make me feel nervous, as though they are hiding something\u2026<\/p>\n

\u2018What exactly is<\/em> Becheville?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018It\u2019s the best establishment around here, it\u2019ll be perfect for you; it\u2019s a small experimental centre specializing in mood disorders.\u2019<\/p>\n

Put it like that\u2026<\/p>\n

\u2018And where is it?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018In one of the outer suburbs, a district called Les Mureaux<\/em>\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

I freeze\u2026Les Mureaux<\/em> is a sleeper town and one of the worst western suburbs of Paris: a place where anything can be sold and bought, where anything can be smoked, snorted, swallowed\u2026 Even cops don\u2019t like going there, afraid of being stoned by the locals.<\/p>\n

I try to imagine a first-rate hospital from central Paris, such as Sainte-Anne set in a Maghreb ghetto\u2026 Since it’s my first time, I\u2019m not yet familiar with these beautifully packaged private \u2018clinics\u2019. I tell myself they are probably all the same everywhere \u2026<\/p>\n

I hesitate, the staff keeps on insisting, and I eventually give in. I have no alternative. To be offered a place so quickly is a miracle\u2026Anyway, I\u2019ll be able to carry out my life there as planned there: keep inside doing nothing at all\u2026<\/p>\n

I feel so pathetic for having fallen down like this, I\u2019m consumed with guilt. I can no longer hide the grief and anguish that I feel \u2013 even on the phone I\u2019m inhibited by shame. Just to avoid using my voice, I communicate only in writing\u2013 heartbroken, useless, I feel that I am not worthy of being your mother, that I am despicable, and fall further into melancholy.<\/p>\n

The ambulance drops me late at night, which makes this deserted place even weirder than it already is. I\u2019m left in the middle of nowhere, tucked deep into the woods, windy, frozen, dark, and misty.<\/p>\n

\u2018Do you have your social insurance card?\u2019<\/p>\n

I get out of the vehicle without a word. They have my file, with my Social Security number on it. \u00a0<\/span>In a place like this, any lack of courtesy can be interpreted differently.<\/p>\n

The ambulance headlights, which should guide me to the doorbell, dazzle me. I freeze, like a rabbit in the last seconds of its life.<\/p>\n

The building is obscured by the moonless night and the sheeting rain. I have the strange feeling that I\u2019m entering some gloomy tale in a moonless night. I manage to find my way in, not without difficulty. At last I\u2019m able to settle down after this endless day. It soothes me, a little, for a while.<\/p>\n

The wind dies down, everything is calm and dimmed.<\/p>\n

Every now and then, I hear the sound of doors being discreetly opened, and then quickly closed again, as though they hid something horrific \u2026<\/p>\n

I wait, transfixed. I try to think, rewind, before I reach the point where I\u2019ll have to reveal myself. The seats in the reception room are like ugly subway seats: orange plastic shells fixed (secured?) to the ground. They\u2019re all for me \u2013 empty.<\/p>\n

The white coat arrives from nowhere in the dark wielding a flashlight. Her eyes are piercing blue, her hair short and black; her voice is as dry as a whistle.<\/p>\n

Questions \/ answers\u2026. the same blabber as in the emergency room\u2026I can’t take it anymore and do my best to keep this short. Eventually, she sends me to my room.<\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019ll have peace in here, a room to yourself\u2019, declares he nurse. Clearly, I am supposed to think: How lucky I am! Yippee!!<\/em><\/p>\n

But my only desire at this juncture is to take my \u201csoul-aspirins\u201d and find a few hours of respite, removed from thought or life. Make life bearable again, even for a short spell in this small room or anywhere else, alone or not. The window is permanently locked, the shutters too are closed, and the small bed is made up with a noisy rubber sheet that I don’t have energy to change. \u00a0I collapse with all my clothes on.<\/p>\n

In the morning I go downstairs, all dressed up but inanimate.<\/p>\n

\u2018Good morning! Time to have breakfast!\u2019<\/p>\n

I catch a distant sound, it must be the refectory. I do not dare leave my room to face the gazes of those who have already taken their place. My door opens directly onto the dining room. I\u2019m six years old again, arriving late to class on the first day of school. Modesty, shame or undue pride\u2026In this mood, all one\u2019s inner doubts seem to be flashing for anyone to see.<\/p>\n

I try to look cool, striving not to look at anybody\u2019s eyes. In my confusion, I can\u2019t find my place\u2026Until a good fairy takes me by the shoulder to steer me.<\/p>\n

Coffee, toast coffee\u2026 Head down, I can’t take my eyes off my tray, but I can’t help but sneak a peek at those around me. I see them all staring deeply into their own plates, and my gaze, directed by my mirror neurons, falls back down too.<\/p>\n

The brutality of mental suffering frightens us when we are forced to bear witness to it. It reminds us of our own finitude\u2026<\/p>\n

Marie-Ange watches me, smiling. Her beautiful eyes appeal to me. She\u2019s strongly built, Corsican, and a devout catholic\u2026she also arrived last night. With her red cropped hair, she reminds me of a Playmobil figure.<\/p>\n

I’m ashamed that I was ashamed\u2026Here, we have all sunk, but I am aware of my sinking; some others are not.<\/p>\n

Some look drugged-up, others less so \u2013 but nonetheless butchered and desperate.<\/p>\n

When I arrived the night before, I only had a glimpse of my surroundings. But in the morning light I cannot escape it. The buildings in the park are eerie and unreal, as though abandoned before they were even completed \u2013 plonked down here and there as though at random, without any visual coherence. Then cemented and covered with a simple sheet of cladding, grey and black, like my mood, the colours of all the love I have for myself.<\/p>\n

The buildings remind me of Bolshevik prison camp Empty, and not a soul in sight. The thick heavy doors are firmly sealed and many display strange, threatening signs. Oddly, though, some of the smaller barely cemented houses are surrounded by flowers, garden dwarfs and vegetable gardens.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Boredom is the only thing that apparently \u00a0fill this strange void. The surrounding oak woods also seem to be abandoned, from another time. The layer of autumn leaves that lines the ground is so deep, so rich in moss and lichen, as if no feet had ever walked on it.<\/p>\n

After the discovery of this new space-time I find myself in, the emptiness of boredom begins to attack me \u2013 in spite of a few kind encounters.<\/p>\n

In theory, this vacuum should free me to enlighten myself – to give me time to reflect, to seek answers to my existential questions. But how can I do that when I\u2019m on antipsychotics? I can’t even find the right questions\u2026<\/p>\n

Drug c . It\u2019s done on purpose: they say that sometimes it\u2019s better not to think<\/em>\u2026<\/p>\n

I don’t even get the most childish TV programmes.<\/p>\n

Bewildered in the morning, brain-dead in the evening, totally scattered\u2026No, it’s definitely not time to think.<\/p>\n

So we talk, preferring to be bored together. That said, it is impossible to imagine myself outside this place, where I would be forced to bear the oppressive burden of real life.<\/p>\n

\u2018You must learn to live with boredom\u2026regain control over life as it is. Admit its reality. Accept its banality\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

Yes, of course<\/em>, I think\u2026 But boredom devoured my childhood, I have tried all my life to avoid it, fleeing the memory of the abandonment which it has always raised.\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019ll worry about my dark inner side shadow later \u2026<\/p>\n

\u2018And you’re not here to listen to others\u2019 misery.\u2019<\/p>\n

It’s all becoming more complicated\u2026<\/p>\n

In psychiatry, being accepted by others is much easier than it is in real life At<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We tell our stories to one another \u2013 we explain and share; bonds are forged\u2026Meeting in the cafeteria becomes essential to life. We laugh, we go wild, we fool around, we will meet again? \u2013 After all, we have all seen one another without our masks on.<\/p>\n

Despite the behavior of a few lost souls, no one is excluded. The two convicts in striped pyjamas 24\/7 are our clowns\u2026their presence enchants us all. Fags turn willingly; abusers choose to smoke cigarette butts from the ashtray. We learn to say no<\/em>; <\/em>we learn how to spot who we are dealing with in this underground jungle.<\/p>\n

The days feel long, even when they are punctuated with episodes of overwhelming drama. I discover that perfume can be an aperitif\u2026\u2019Channel 5\u2019:\u00a0 what a waste! Meanwhile, others prefer to puke while aiming at the ashtray. As if they did not know what happens when you mix Baclofen with alcohol, but they don’t care. Strangely enough, staff members seem more indulgent towards the boozers than the joint smokers.<\/p>\n

\u2018Have you heard this one?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Go ahead, I’m listening.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018There are three people on a boat.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Madman, Nothing and Nobody…\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Nobody falls in the water!\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Nothing tells Madman to call 911\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Hello… I’m Madman… I’m calling for Nothing, Nobody fell into the water…\u2019<\/p>\n

An strange and grumpy character with an ungainly appearance and a tendency to surliness emerges every night to entertain us, and then disappears again.<\/p>\n

The majority of us are good sports when new members of the cast come in, before we go up to our rooms, more or less hypnotized, as intended, smoking our final fags of the day\u2026 You get used to everything and everyone here, at least for the duration of the stay. The initial sense of pity fades away.<\/p>\n

Yes, being bipolar is serious, but there are worse diseases. It\u2019s cruel, but reassuring. No, it’s not a question of willpower. Yes, you have to listen to yourself. A car won\u2019t move without petrol\u2026But what’s the point of trying to make sense of this invisible handicap, whether innate, acquired or genetic? The psychiatrists themselves can\u2019t explain it.<\/p>\n

In my worst moments, I sometimes wished I had a visible disability, maybe I would have received more support, maybe, more simply, I would have been understood.<\/p>\n

If I am able to reason, it is up to me to cope with it. I hide away, rejecting life and fantasizing about the best scenario for quitting it: to melt under duvet, alone, in this word with my own guilt.<\/p>\n

Melancholy comes closer to the truth of life than joy. We all know how our short lives will end\u2026<\/p>\n

A sunny attitude can numb the mental faculties for years but it won\u2019t heal the pain, which always finds its way back to the surface, entering our consciousness or our dreams. Being able to integrate and digest the pain seems to be the best method for expelling it. But you still need the strength to be able to do so.<\/p>\n

Beyond my inheritance, I now understand the critical bearing of my childhood as the true bed of my disease. It has taken a long time to go back there, and psychotherapy has been essential, given the limitations of our psychiatric medicine.<\/p>\n

Who could escape from this? I have no way of knowing whether this will ever end, but surely, winter can’t last a lifetime.<\/p>\n

Even if love has nothing to do with good feelings, it is, I am certain, the only thing that can save us from the worst.<\/p>\n

Maman<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nous sommes d\u00e9j\u00e0 le 19 d\u00e9cembre et aujourd\u2019hui c\u2019est l\u2019anniversaire de ton fr\u00e8re.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

No\u00ebl approche \u00e0 grands pas et moi je croule sous le poids d\u2019une culpabilit\u00e9 inutile.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je me hais, ne vous m\u00e9rite pas. Me voil\u00e0 an\u00e9antie, \u00e9chou\u00e9 aux urgences de l\u2019h\u00f4pital le plus proche.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Besoin de voir le psychiatre de garde, c’est urgent docteur, je suis en danger, je ne dois pas repartir, je suis bipolaire\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u2014 Que se passe-t-il\u00a0?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 je n’en peux plus. Je ne fais que dormir pour ne plus penser\u2026 Pour ne plus vivre\u2026 Oui je suis venue seule \u00e0 pied pour me mettre \u00e0 l’abri de mes pulsions morbides. Je suis au bord du gouffre, je n\u2019y arrive plus\u2026 Je ne peux m\u00eame pas en finir, pas le droit, jai deux enfants… Vous comprenez ?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Impossible de raisonner normalement en couleur, dirig\u00e9e par mon subconscient plant\u00e9 dans le noir. Seul mon instinct maternel est rest\u00e9 intact.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Regards dubitatifs… Puis approbateurs :<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/sup><\/p>\n

\u2014\u00a0En g\u00e9n\u00e9ral les patients ne viennent pas d’eux-m\u00eames… F\u00e9licitations\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Le psychiatre et son assistante m’emm\u00e8nent dans une pi\u00e8ce isol\u00e9e pour me questionner afin de v\u00e9rifier mes dires qui sautent aux yeux pourtant.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Me concentrer pour leur r\u00e9pondre met encore \u00e0 l’\u00e9preuve ma r\u00e9sistance morale et physique. Je suis proche du n\u00e9ant, de la brume plein la vue, le reste dans les t\u00e9n\u00e8bres. \u00c9puis\u00e9e par des nuits sans sommeil, des jours sans manger et des semaines \u00e0 pleurer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ils me demandent de patienter le temps d’essayer de trouver une solution. Ils sont tr\u00e8s motiv\u00e9s visiblement, d\u00e9ployant une \u00e9nergie consid\u00e9rable pour t\u00e9l\u00e9phoner, courir dans les couloirs\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Un peu que je vais patienter ! Je ne suis pas venue ici pour repartir en douce\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

J’attends, les minutes sont des heures\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014\u00a0Bonne nouvelle ! Nous avons pu vous trouver une chambre individuelle \u00e0 B\u00e9cheville.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ils annoncent la nouvelle avec condescendance, surpris que je ne connaisse pas cet endroit.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Finalement, leur enthousiasme commence \u00e0 m’angoisser, comme s\u2019ils en faisaient trop pour me cacher quelque chose\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014\u00a0C’est quoi Becheville exactement ?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Le meilleur \u00e9tablissement du secteur, vous serez bien l\u00e0-bas dans cette petite structure test, sp\u00e9cialis\u00e9e dans les troubles de l’humeur.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pr\u00e9sent\u00e9 comme \u00e7a\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Mais o\u00f9 est-ce ?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 C’est en banlieue, seconde couronne, aux Mureaux\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je me fige\u2026 Cette ville dortoir est l’une des pires de la banlieue ouest de Paris : La zone, o\u00f9 les \u00ab\u00a0teneurs de murs\u00a0\u00bb dealent tout ce qui peut se fumer, se sniffer, s’avaler\u2026M\u00eame les flics s’y d\u00e9placent le moins possible sous peine de s’y faire caillasser.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

J’imagine Sainte-Anne version \u00ab\u00a0Maghreb United\u00a0\u00bb\u2026<\/p>\n

C’est la premi\u00e8re fois, je ne connais pas encore les belles \u00ab\u00a0maisons de sant\u00e9\u00a0\u00bb priv\u00e9es bien \u00ab\u00a0emball\u00e9es\u00a0\u00bb.<\/p>\n

De toute fa\u00e7on je me dis que \u00e7a doit \u00eatre partout pareil\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Le personnel insiste devant mon h\u00e9sitation, et je me soumets. Je n\u2019ai pas le choix. Avoir une place aussi rapidement rel\u00e8ve d\u00e9j\u00e0 du miracle et de toute fa\u00e7on ce sera bien assez pour mener \u00e0 bien mes projets\u00a0: Rester enferm\u00e9e \u00e0 l\u2019abris, ne rien faire du tout\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je me sens tellement minable d’\u00eatre tomb\u00e9e si bas. La culpabilit\u00e9 me consume mais je ne peux plus cacher le chagrin et l’angoisse qui m’habitent, m\u00eame par t\u00e9l\u00e9phone, compl\u00e8tement inhib\u00e9e par la honte de moi-m\u00eame. Alors, pour \u00e9viter la voix qui ne peut plus faire semblant, je communique par \u00e9crit seulement, le coeur bris\u00e9, inutle, je me sens indigne d’\u00eatre ta m\u00e8re, m\u00e9prisable, et plonge dans la m\u00e9lancolie.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

L’ambulance me d\u00e9pose tard dans la nuit, ce qui en rajoute \u00e0 l’\u00e9tranget\u00e9 de ce lieu d\u00e9sert en plein vent, gel\u00e9, sombre et brumeux, planqu\u00e9 en plein bois.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Avez-vous votre carte d’assur\u00e9e sociale ?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je sors du v\u00e9hicule sans r\u00e9pondre. Ils ont mon dossier et mon num\u00e9ro d’assur\u00e9 y figure.<\/p>\n

Apr\u00e8s tout, ici, le manque de politesse peut \u00eatre interpr\u00e9t\u00e9 autrement.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Les phares du v\u00e9hicule au lieu de me guider vers la sonnette m’\u00e9blouissent, me figent tel un lapin vivant ses derni\u00e8res secondes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

J’ai l\u2019impression \u00e9trange d’entrer dans une fiction glauque camoufl\u00e9e par une nuit sans lune et parviens \u00e0 entrer non sans mal. Pouvoir me poser apr\u00e8s ce jour sans fin m’apaise un peu pour un instant.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tout est calme et \u00e9teint.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Une ou deux portes s’entrouvrent discr\u00e8tement de temps en temps, avant d’\u00eatre vite referm\u00e9es \u00e0 clef comme si le pire \u00e9tait cach\u00e9 derri\u00e8re…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je patiente, intrigu\u00e9e. J\u2019essaye de cogiter, de rembobiner, avant de devoir me d\u00e9voiler.<\/p>\n

Tous les si\u00e8ges sont pour moi, ce sont les m\u00eames que dans le m\u00e9tro, coques en plastique orange fix\u00e9s au sol, bien laids.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

La blouse blanche arrive de nulle part dans l’obscurit\u00e9 avec sa lampe de poche, ses yeux sont bleus per\u00e7ants, ses cheveux noirs et courts, sa voix est s\u00e8che comme un coup de trique.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Questions \/ r\u00e9ponses\u2026 Les m\u00eames poncifs qu’aux urgences\u2026 \u00c9puis\u00e9e, je fais tout pour abr\u00e9ger ce calvaire sans perdre contr\u00f4le. Finalement, elle me fait accompagner dans ma chambre.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Ici vous serez tranquille, une chambre pour vous toute seule, D\u00e9clare la soignante.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Quelle chance ! Youpi\u00a0!!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je n’ai qu’une seule h\u00e2te, pouvoir gouter les premi\u00e8res aspirines de l’\u00e2me pour trouver quelques heures de r\u00e9pit, ne plus penser. Transformer l’existence en un moment supportable dans cette toute petite chambre ou ailleurs, seule ou pas.<\/p>\n

La fen\u00eatre est condamn\u00e9e, les volets aussi et le petit lit \u00e9quip\u00e9 d’une al\u00e8ze en caoutchouc bien turbulente<\/p>\n

que je n’ai pas l’\u00e9nergie de d\u00e9gager. Je m’y enfonce habill\u00e9e, inanim\u00e9e.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Bonjour ! il est l’heure d’aller prendre votre petit d\u00e9jeuner\u00a0!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je capte un vague brouhaha qui doit \u00eatre celui du r\u00e9fectoire. Je n’ose pas sortir de ma chambre, affronter tous les regards d\u00e9j\u00e0 attabl\u00e9s, ma porte ouvrant directement sur la salle.<\/p>\n

J’ai 6ans et arrive en retard dans la classe un jour de rentr\u00e9.<\/p>\n

Pudeur, honte ou orgueil d\u00e9plac\u00e9… Dans cet \u00e9tat, toute mon intimit\u00e9 semble clignoter \u00e0 la vue de tous.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je tente un air d\u00e9gag\u00e9, m’applique \u00e0 ne regarder personne, en fais trop et en pleine confusion ne trouve pas ma place\u2026 Jusqu’\u00e0 ce qu’une bonne f\u00e9e me prenne par l’\u00e9paule pour me guider.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Caf\u00e9, tartines, caf\u00e9\u2026 Je reste t\u00eate baiss\u00e9e, le nez dans mon plateau repas.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je ne peux m’emp\u00eacher malgr\u00e9 tout d’envisager furtivement ceux qui m’entourent avant de replonger dans mon bol sur les conseils de mes neurones miroirs.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

La brutalit\u00e9 de la souffrance mentale nous fait peur quand on la d\u00e9couvre, elle doit nous renvoyer \u00e0 notre propre finitude\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Marie-Ange m’observe, ses beaux yeux m’appellent en me souriant. Elle aussi est arriv\u00e9e cette nuit.<\/p>\n

Avec ses cheveux rouges et sa coupe elle me fait penser \u00e0 un playmobil. Elle est baraqu\u00e9e, corse et catholique pratiquante.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

J\u2019ai honte d’avoir eu honte\u2026 Nous avons tous sombr\u00e9, mais j\u2019ai conscience de mon naufrage ; D’autres pas.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Certains paraissent bien perch\u00e9s, d’autres moins voire pas du tout, seulement abattus et d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lors de mon arriv\u00e9e hier soir, je n’ai pu que devin\u00e9 l’ext\u00e9rieur du site, alors que ce matin, impossible d\u2019y \u00e9chapper. Les b\u00e2tisses du parc sont sinistrement irr\u00e9elles, comme inachev\u00e9es et plant\u00e9es \u00e7a et l\u00e0 de fa\u00e7on disparate et h\u00e9t\u00e9rog\u00e8ne sans coh\u00e9rence visuelle.<\/p>\n

Juste ciment\u00e9es et couvertes de t\u00f4les rest\u00e9es dans leur jus, grises et noires comme mon humeur et l’amour que je me porte.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Leur architecture m\u2019\u00e9voque ces syst\u00e8mes de r\u00e9tention bolch\u00e9viques. Rien ne bouge, pas \u00e2me qui vive. Les portes \u00e9paisses et lourdes sont solidement condamn\u00e9es et certaines affubl\u00e9es de signaux mena\u00e7ants, \u00e9tranges. Bizarrement, quelques petites maisons \u00e0 peine ciment\u00e9es sont fleuries, \u00e9quip\u00e9es de nains de jardin et de potagers.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Seul l’ennui semble combler ce vide \u00e9trange. Les bois de ch\u00eanes environnants semblent eux aussi abandonn\u00e9s, d’un autre temps. La hauteur des feuilles d’automne tapissant le sol est si dense, leurs richesses en mousse et lichen aussi, comme si personne n’y avait jamais mis les pieds.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Apr\u00e8s la d\u00e9couverte de ce nouvel espace-temps, la vacuit\u00e9 de l’ennui commence \u00e0 m’assaillir malgr\u00e9 quelques rencontres sympathiques.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

En th\u00e9orie le calme et le vide devrait pouvoir m’\u00e9clairer, me donner le temps de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, de trouver des r\u00e9ponses \u00e0 mes questions existentielles. Mais comment faire sous anti-psychotique\u00a0? Je n’arrive m\u00eame pas \u00e0 trouver les bonnes questions\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Les diff\u00e9rents cocktails distribu\u00e9s quatre fois par jour paralysent mon esprit, bloquent toutes pens\u00e9es.<\/p>\n

C’est fait pour\u00a0! Parait-il\u00a0qu\u2019il vaut mieux parfois ne pas penser du tout\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je ne capte m\u00eame pas les programmes t\u00e9l\u00e9 les plus enfantin.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Stup\u00e9faite le matin, abrutie le soir, totalement \u00e9parpill\u00e9e\u2026 Non ce n’est pas le moment de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Alors on parle pr\u00e9f\u00e9rant s\u2019ennuyer ensemble. Ceci dit, impossible de m’imaginer \u00e0 l’ext\u00e9rieur, dans le fardeau de la vraie vie qui m’oppresse.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00ab Vous devez apprendre \u00e0 vous ennuyer… Retrouver le contr\u00f4le sur la vie telle qu’elle est, l’admettre et en accepter la banalit\u00e9\u2026\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Oui, bien s\u00fbr…<\/em> L’ennui a occup\u00e9 toute mon enfance, j’ai tent\u00e9 toute ma vie de l’esquiver, fuyant le souvenir de l’abandon auquel il a toujours fait \u00e9cho.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Je m’occuperai de ma part d’ombre plus tard\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00ab Et vous n’\u00eates pas l\u00e0 pour \u00e9couter la mis\u00e8re des autres\u2026\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00c7a se complique\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

En psychiatrie, se faire accepter des autres est beaucoup plus ais\u00e9 que dans la vraie vie ; dans le grand bain personne n’a pied.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On se raconte, on s\u2019explique, on partage\u00a0; Des liens se cr\u00e9ent.<\/p>\n

Se retrouver \u00e0 la caf\u00e9t\u00e9ria devient essentiel. On rigole, on fait les fous, on se reverra ? Apr\u00e8s tout on s’est connus sans masques.<\/p>\n

Malgr\u00e9 le comportement de quelques \u00e2mes \u00e9gar\u00e9s, personne n’est mis \u00e0 l’\u00e9cart. Les deux taulards en pyjama ray\u00e9s 24\/24 sont des pitres dont la pr\u00e9sence enchante tout le monde.<\/p>\n

Les clopes tournent de bon coeur, ceux qui abusent fument les m\u00e9gots des cendriers ; On apprend \u00e0 dire non, \u00e0 savoir \u00e0 qui on a \u00e0 faire dans cette jungle interlope.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Les journ\u00e9es sont longues, m\u00eame si certaines peuvent r\u00e9server quelques surprises \u00e9tonnantes d’une grande violence. J’ignorais que le parfum pouvait \u00eatre un ap\u00e9ritif\u2026 Du \u201cChannel 5\u201d ! Quel g\u00e2chis !<\/p>\n

Pendant que d’autres pr\u00e9f\u00e8rent gerber en visant les cendriers\u2026 Comme s’ils ignoraient l’effet du Baclofen avec l’alcool.<\/p>\n

Curieusement le personnel semble plus indulgent avec ceux qui d\u00e9rogent en picolant qu’avec les fumeurs de p\u00e9tards.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Tu la connais celle-l\u00e0\u00a0?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014 Vas-y je t\u2019\u00e9coute.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a03 personnes sont sur un bateau<\/p>\n

Fou, Rien et Personne…<\/p>\n

Personne tombe \u00e0 l\u2019eau !<\/p>\n

Rien dit \u00e0 Fou d\u2019appeler les secours …<\/p>\n

Bonjour… Je suis Fou… J\u2019appelle pour Rien,\u00a0Personne est tomb\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019eau… \u00bb<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Un \u00e9trange personnage grincheux \u00e0 l\u2019esprit rev\u00eache et d\u2019aspect disgracieux nous sort chaque soir de quoi nous divertir, avant de s\u2019en aller \u00e0 la d\u00e9rob\u00e9e.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

La majorit\u00e9 est bon public d\u2019autant apr\u00e8s la derni\u00e8re distribution g\u00e9n\u00e9rale avant le coucher, plus ou moins\u00a0hypnotis\u00e9s comme il se doit, et fum\u00e9 nos derni\u00e8res clopes\u2026 On s’habitue \u00e0 tout, \u00e0 tous aussi, du moins le temps du s\u00e9jour. La piti\u00e9 s’estompe peu \u00e0 peu.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Oui, la bipolarit\u00e9 est consid\u00e9r\u00e9e comme une maladie grave mais y’a pire. C’est cruel, mais rassurant.<\/p>\n

Non, ce n’est pas une question de volont\u00e9. Oui, il faut s’\u00e9couter. Une voiture sans essence ne peut rouler… Mais \u00e0 quoi bon tenter d’expliquer cet handicap invisible, qu’il soit inn\u00e9, acquis ou g\u00e9n\u00e9tique\u00a0? Les psychiatres eux-m\u00eames n’ont aucune certitude.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dans les pires moments, il m’est arriv\u00e9 de penser que j’aurais pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 un handicap visible, histoire d’\u00eatre mieux soutenue, comprise.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sous pr\u00e9texte qu’on est apte \u00e0 pouvoir raisonner, c’est \u00e0 nous de faire avec. De nous cacher pour vomir la vie, pour imaginer le meilleur sc\u00e9nario pour la quitter\u00a0: nous fondre sous la couette seule au monde avec notre culpabilit\u00e9.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

La m\u00e9lancolie est surement plus proche de notre r\u00e9alit\u00e9 que la joie de vivre. Apr\u00e8s tout, nous savons tous comment notre courte vie va finir\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ce n’est pas en anesth\u00e9siant le si\u00e8ge de nos facult\u00e9s mentales pendant des ann\u00e9es que la douleur s’\u00e9loigne, elle remonte toujours \u00e0 la surface de notre conscience ou plus profond\u00e9ment, jusqu’\u00e0 dans nos r\u00eaves. Pouvoir l’int\u00e9grer pour la dig\u00e9rer semble \u00eatre le meilleur moyen de pouvoir l’expulser.<\/p>\n

Encore faut-il en avoir la force.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Au-del\u00e0 de mon h\u00e9r\u00e9dit\u00e9, je connais maintenant la pr\u00e9dominance du poids de mon enfance, v\u00e9ritable lit de ma maladie. Il a fallu beaucoup de temps pour s\u2019y replonger, la psychoth\u00e9rapie fut indispensable, compte tenu des limites de notre m\u00e9decine psychiatrique.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Qui pourrait y \u00e9chapper ? Je n’ai aucun moyen de savoir si cela finira un jour, mais l’hiver ne dure s\u00fbrement pas toute la vie.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Quant \u00e0 l’amour, s’il n’a rien \u00e0 voir avec les bons sentiments, il est bien le seul \u00e0 pouvoir sauver du pire.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Maman<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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English + French bellow   It is already December 19th and today is your brother’s birthday. Christmas is fast approaching and I am drowning under the weight of unnecessary guilt. I hate myself, don’t deserve you. I am devastated, stranded in the emergency room of the nearest hospital. \u2018I need to see the it’s urgent,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1293","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1293","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1293"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1293\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1295,"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1293\/revisions\/1295"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mathiasdelattre.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1293"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}