Reparenting oneself

I came across a tweet today that reads « Be the parent you wanted as a child » and it made me think. Firstly I thought, huh, maybe that’s what some women mean to day when they come from abused childhood and go right on having a lot of kids without going through therapy first. I always judged them, because as a former psychology student and someone who was big on personal development, I know non-healed trauma cannot be healed just by the sheer power of wishful thinking. Like everybody has heard « hurt people hurt people » enough to be better, I thought. I just never could understand why people still did not know better? Like I understand their logic, but experience has proven them wrong again and again, so why can’t they just accept that despite having the best of intentions, it just does not work like that?

But this morning, that tweet made me go ohhhh I can see. Sure some parent doing that is just naive wishful thinking (inadaptive behavior or trauma induced), maybe some of them are onto something? The best route in my mind is still getting therapy and making sure you’re at least 50%healthy mentally, that you’re aware of all of your psychological issues an of the fact that there is possibly some that you are not even aware of. Basically, you have to realize you know some but in the grand skeme of things, you know nothing. You should be humble enough to question your own behavior, beliefs at every given moment. Psychological issues show up all the time in our behaviors, thought process and reactions without us being aware. You can never just be 100% healed, but you can become more aware of yourself. And that is what’s needed to be a better person and better parent. But that only happens after years of therapy. So, as our societes do not care about people’s well-being, mental health is not affordable. People can not go to therapy because they cannot afford it. Plus they are told it’s useless and shameful to seek help, so most won’t even ask for help.

Therefore, I think one possibility is to reparent yourself by having kids. I would say that’s cheaper that paying years of therapy, but honestly we all know it’s not. But when people make that decision I think to them it is. They get to have kids (which you have to have anyways if you subscribe to the social norms), give them a better life than the one they had (their ultimate goal!), and also get to heal from their own childhood (the free therapy!). By giving your kids every thing you wanted and needed as a child, on top of living vicariously through them (the toxic part of this ordeal), you also get to re-write your childhood by acting like the ideal parent you wish you had back them. You reparent your inner-child as a parent. And that is magic. Doing so help you identify all the things your parents did wrong and revisit how it made you feel. Then you practice the healing part by choosing to behave differently than your parents, you get to see your child happy and safe, which brings you joy and peace. Knowing that you are 50% your parents DNA wise, and that you child is also 50 % you DNA wise, it’s just full cercle, but a vertuous circle instead of the same old vicious cercle. You take generational curses down efficiently.

Although I would not try to reparent myself by having kids (too many unknown variables), I can take that concept an apply it to myself, as many have already theorized and done. I can reparent myself even as an adult because I am at the same time the inner-child in me, my parents, and the adult me. And what better time to do this than the 3rd decennial phase of my life?

13 août 2022 1

Build and bring your own table !

« While everybody was fighting for a seat at the table talking about #OscarsSoWhite, #OscarsSoWhite, I said, ‘Y’all go ahead and do that. But while you’re fighting for a seat at the table, I’ll be down in Atlanta building my own. » said Tyler Perry at the BET awards in June 2019. I watch a lot of his movies/TV shows, but I also don’t always love his art because he has a singular take on black womanhood, but that is a debate for another time.

This sentence from his speech really stroke a nerve for me and got me thinking. Indeed, Perry went from struggling to get opportunities in white hollywood a few years ago to having a whole bunch of billboard signs on the highways advertising his studios in 2019. Although everybody success story does not end in becoming a millionaire, we can all gain a lot from his mindset.

Instead of asking, begging, scrapping for a place at the table, always bring your OWN table everywhere you go ! How about that ?

Come to think of it, imagine if everytime you wanted to go to a concert, or a place where you know no matter how early you get there, there is just never any place left for you, what if you could bring your own chair ? Awsome right ?! Well yeah, but imagine if the chairs had to be around a table and had to be organised in a certain way for it to blend in with the rest of the crowd ? Then your seat is useless if there is no table left for you to sit at. But TADAA if you bring your own TABLE, you can just put it anywhere. First it’s more imposing than a chair so less people can throw it out easily, and it also blends in easier because now you have a whole table AND you can invite people and decide who gets to sit with you too. Now YOU call the shots !

Well, thinking about that made me realize that I spend and have spent my whole life, probably as a lot of you, asking (more like begging and fighting) for a chair at THE table, even the tiniest one. And that is probably why I’m not where I want to be in life, why I do not feel respected and why I usually am left outside of the event that’s called life. I can think of at least 8 reasons to explain why I do not have a seat waiting for me anywhere really in life. It is not self-pity, it is just the the truth to our socio-economic and politico-cultural reality.

As a black person, 300 years of slavery, followed by colonization, and modern slavery in all its disguised (from the France-Afrique to the recent slave auctions’ scandals in Libya in 2019) did not help me get a seat at any good table. Day-to-day racism, constant disrespect, denial of the very existence of racism ( the creation of the concept of « anti-white racism » is an other lame attempt among others) , institutionalized racism, economical slavery, centuries of traumas passed from generations to generations of black people all over the planet and so much more, contributed to create a world where black people are constantly under-prepared and under-equipped to succeed in our western societies. As a black person, it is assumed that you are lazier, more dangerous and less deserving, so you have to be better than white folks, way better, to even hope to have a small tiny place at the table. Usually you never get the real deal, no matter how much you fight, unless you give in to massa.

As a woman, my grandmother was the first generation of women who was really free : able to vote (depending on the country, but usually it all happened during the 20th century for most democraties), able to divorce, able to control her own money, have a paid job, the right to abort and so much more of the basic human rights ! But in the reality of things, my mum’s generation is the one who truly got the actual opportunity of using those rights. You see, my grandma could abort, but culturally it was just way too out of pocket for her to do that and it was still way too patriarchal to try and pull that stunt ! My mum grew up in a slightly more open atmosphere. But when she got pregnant at 20 with no job and no future, she kept the child, mostly due to her religious beliefs/fear of being judged/lack of money and health insurance/inhability to use a pregnancy test (I’m just guessing here). I am glad she kept the baby because that was my big sister, but I can imagine how hard it was for our mum and I am not sure that the story would have been the same if it would have happened in 2019, assuming that she would have known before the limit date. So really, I AM of the first generation of women, where the majority feels free enough to be feminists or just live freely and enjoy their rights. We are the first generation to truly benefit from science evolution, regression of religious influence on societies, women’s rights fights… So as women, we only really got a visible recognized seat at the table since the end of the 20th century. Nevertheless, in 2019, we can sit in the boardroom, but we are still not treated as men’s equal in regards to pay, respect and other attributes.

As a black woman, I combine the worst of both worlds. Black women have to fight injustice on both fronts because society is incapable of conceptualizing their complex identity. You can either be a woman or a black person, you can not be recognize as both. Sojourner Truth, an African-American feminist who obtained freedom from slavery in 1827, summed it up in a speech entitled « Ain’t I a woman ? » delivered in 1851 at the Women’s Rights convention in Ohio. « Ain’t I a woman ? » questions the difference of treatment between white women who were (and are still very much) viewed as needing protection and black women who were (and still are) dehumanised and viewed as strong robots. Later, the concept of intersectionnality was popularized by Kimberlé Crenshaw, a law professor in a 1991 article entitled « Mapping the margins« , in which she exposes how people who are « both women and people of color » are excluded and disempowered by « discourses that are shaped to respond to one [identity] or the other, » rather than both.

As an African, well, I do not want to repeat myself, but you see how slavery, then colonization, and now modern economic and political subservience towards the werstern countries would put us in the weakest position. As for exemple, the African countries in the UEMOA zone still use the CFA franc which is a currency still fabricated in a village in France and garanteed by the French treasury of course ! How sway ? Let’s not even get into the euro-cfa exchange rates , or the fact that France basically controls the economy of 14 countries because they have the control of their currency. Furthermore, there is also the big shitshow that NGO’s and other associations cause in African countries, where they pose as saviors, but in reality they are just destroying our economy from the inside. So of course if we as Africans are still being patronized by the rest of the world, how can we expect a decent adult seat at the table ?

As an African black woman living overseas, especially in a country I do not have the nationality of, I combine ALL OF THE ABOVE, so really, where is my seat ?? If white people have historically and are still making it hard for Africans to just be, you can imagine how even harder it is living in their countries. Nothing is made for people like us : less to non existant media representation, few open opportunities, difference in chances, racism…

As a poor/lower middle-class citizen, I know that « money talks », so the poorer you are, the lower your voice is in this consumerism and subtle violence. Nobody listens to the poor. People do not even want to aknowledge their existence, because being poor in this century equals having plague in the 1800s. The book Lutter contre les pauvres, written by Jean-Pierre Tabin and René Knüsel exposes how (specifically in Switzerland) beggars, and homless people are excluded, how the Roma community is held responsible for the homelessness « problem » in the country and especially how a non existant problem (this so-called homlessness problem) is amplified and used as a political gain. So being poor equals being invisible and silent. Being poor is being a second-class citizen.

As an introvert, I do not like being the center of attention, I usually shy away from opportunities and mess things up just by being more reserved than the majority. This world is built for extroverts, and every work opportunity, every social function is built to affirm this reality. Nobody listens to the introvert because eveybody is busy admiring the extrovert (who is usually screaming for all of the attention anyway). So by the time, the introvert manages to get a word into the conversation, it’s already too late.

As a person with mental illness, life is harder, and more emotional. But the world usually requires from us to ignore our deepest desires and needs : you are asked to smile on command and to constantly perform. That is exhausting, and sometimes impossible for someone with mental illness such as depression, anxiety or bipolar disorder for example. People suffering from those illnesses are also considered weaker by societal standards, and there still is a strong social stigma linked to them in professional spaces. If you want to be taken seriously or you want to be trusted, you usually do not go around advertising your depression nor your anxiety.

So, the conclusion is that there is no table waiting for me anywhere, and there is very few to no seat available either. I. have. better. chances. building. and bringing on. my own table. with. me. everywhere.

10 septembre 2019 0

NOT ALL OF US ARE MADE HOUSEWIVES MATERIAL, and it is OKAY

I was thinking about an episode that happened when I was on vacation with my significant other (SO) and his familly when I realized that I really had trouble accepting myself as I am and letting people deal with it. We were about to eat, and I had already helped the woman cook, so I was famished and I started serving myself. Suddenly she grabbed my plate and proceeded to yell at me, saying how inappropriate it was for me to serve myself before the men (i.e. my SO and his familly member who was a man). She said that she’s been watching me do this for a while now, thinking it was a joke but that it was enough now, and that I should always arrange food for my SO before myself because he was a man.

Needless to tell you that my blood was boiling inside, but because I am non-confrontational introvert and was brought up in an African home, I was not about to start that argument in a traditional African home, so I shut up and kept my boiling blood down. But I was so mad that I violently broke a nail and it hurt like shit. After that, on a few other occasions she made the same old remark, because of course I did not change my ways. So it made me think : why does every woman around me but me seems to think this is okay ? Why can’t I agree with them ? I do think and hope that surely I am not alone in this. Of course I am unique (we all are), but not that unique.

So I started thinking back and realized that around me, past or present, African or Europeans, every woman in a heterosexual relationship, or with a son treats men like royalty without it being reciprocated. When I was younger, I used to think it was a cultural thing, but as I grew old, I am seeing that it has always been more of a woman thing. Women in majority of the world were always (and are still) considered weaker, therefore deserving of less respect than men. It is the very essence of sexism, male chauvinism and other male toxic behaviours. It is the essence of our patriarchal societies all over the world, the reason why majority of women worldwide had to wait for the 20th century to be able to vote. We do not have enough time to debate here on how chauvinistic our world is, because James Brown already summed it up for us in 1986 with his song « It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s world » (great song by the way, and great interpretation by Seal in 2008).

First thing to admit is that this is not a cultural or societal issue, it’s a world’s one : it’s not only Africans, it’s also Europeans, Asians, Americans… I remember when I was 17yo in Uni, a friend of mine who was in my class with her boyfriend of the same age (18yo) was the one doing ALL the house chores in the appartement that they were sharing, because yes they were already living together. And both of them where white and French. I already knew that the older generation of white people were as traditional as my mother when it came to gender roles and the place of a woman in the household, but I never expected it from my generation, especially not from Europeans. Then, just yesterday on twitter, I read a whole thread on women younger than me (way too young if you ask me) talking about how they used to do the laundry or pack up the diry clothes of their ex-boyfriends for their mum to wash. I was shocked because again, that might have been a thing back in the 2000’s but I never expected it from the Gen Z or the social media kids in 2019 !! Was I naïve ? I do know that education and socialization play a pivotal role in our lives and that women are still not treated as equal as men in regards to education, employment and so much more. But I just thought that parents were doing better in 2019, and I was wrong for thinking that because how could they ? If the society is still holding the same standards as it was 20 years ago, the people living in it can not change.

Second thing to realize is that this behaviour is perpetuated by older women : the mothers. I am not here to bash women and to put all the blame on them, because that would be very anti-feminist, but we have got to admit that education is unfortunately a responsability that is more imposed on women, as they spend more time with the kids, still. A study published by The Economist revealed that in 2012, mothers were spending on average 104min a day with the kids, whereas the fathers were spending 59 min. Fifty years ago it was 54min for the women versus 16min for the men !!! So yes, it has evolved a lot, and of course it varies depending on the parent’s careers, but overall, women still give more time with the children. So by allocating more time to us, mothers shape our vision of the world. And most of the time, they treat their boys different than their girls. Boys get to still come home with their dirty laundry at 25yo, hell even 40 for some, and she still does it for him. But they would shame their daughters for doing the same thing. « Boys will be boys » they say.

Third thing to do is recognize that it is not normal to treat men constantly like royalty or like we owe them our lives, when it is never reciprocated !! We are told to take care of them as if they were babies or toddler, but at the same time respect them as if they were our fathers. Does that make any sense ?? You are either a toddler who does not know how to serve his own food, or you are a grown man that deserve my respect. But for the grace of the Goddess, you can not be both !! It’s a scam ladies !! And I already hear the woman-caretaker police with the bullshit argument that « but it’s just a way to show your love ». No it is not, please do not show me love like this unless I am ill or amputated. As a grown person, I can serve my own food, pick up my own plate once in while and do my laundry and so much more. As a grow person that lives with another one, I understand that no one loves doing chores, and it is unjust to put all of it on one person’s shoulders. We live here together so we clean up together. The only reason that justifies one party doing more in the house is if that person does not work or work less hours. Otherwise IT MAKES ABSOLUTLY NO SENSE PEOPLE !

Fourth thing is to respect everyone’s choices. If you choose to be a submissive woman, that is your busines. So if I choose NOT to be one, that is also my business ? So let me be woman ! One thing is also crazy : most of the time, it’s other women who criticize you the most and give their unwanted opinions on the way you live your life. Men do have opinions on it to, trust me, they do not like women who do not cater to them, but most of them keep it to themselves if you’re not their woman. We are not all « wife material/ housewife material/homekeeper-lover… ».

Last but most important thing is to accept that you are different and want different things, and that it is okay. I have never ever wanted to be in that position in a relationship and that is not going to change. I am not going to cater to a man like he is some god, or king (unless he does the exact same to me). I am never taking the habit of serving your food before mine (or serving your food point blank, because you’ve got arms and I’ve already done the cooking part), and I am never going to care for you as I would a child because one, you are not my child and two, you have a mother. And if that does not sit well with you, I am happy to walk away because I’d rather be alone than to live with a child who believes and act like he is the boss. I have to accept and respect that I can not do it. Only then can I make people respect it. And if they don’t, then I’ll just ignore them. It’s going to be hard, especially in my culture, but the goal is not to change other people’s mentality. The goal is for me to know who I am and respect myself. The fact that I am a highly empathetic person already pushes me to be the caretaker in relationships, so I’ll be damned if I let myself become someone’s housekeeper for free.

So I will never indulge a man’s chauvinistic beliefs like a lot of women do because I do not want to, and that is okay because that is who I am.

30 août 2019 1

It’s fine with me

She used to believe in a Saviour. She thought one day he would come, one of those dark days, while she would be crying desperately he would appear. Her Saviour was always male, he would know exactly what to say, how to say it. He would understand the depth of her. He would get her like no one ever did.

At first her Saviour was a God, a white god, Jesus actually. She thought that someday his heart couldn’t handle her cries and pain, and so he would appear to her and confort her soul. She really thought that one of those dark nights, while she would be balling her eyes out, crying her soul out and asking for a sign, he would appear. But he never did. She was hurt, but then she understood he could not come because he probably could not hear her, because he was not her Saviour.

So she let go. The second time around she thought a man would save her, still male, less of a God, but still, he could save her. So she would let her guards down, cry around him, cry in the same home, on the same bed while he is laying down next to her. Sleeping. She thought his love for her would be so hudge and deep that even in his deepest sleep he would be able to hear his soulmate’s soul being destroyed. But he never heard, he never woke up, he never saved her. Did he ever try ? Probably. Maybe. At least she would hope he believed he did his best. But his best was never enough. He never came when she was on the floor, imploring death to come take her. He never cared like she thought he would. Or maybe he just never knew to care that deep ? She does not know. It does not matter because she is no longer a believer.

She does not believe anymore in a Saviour. Nor male or female. She understands that there is no Saviour, there is no ONE, there is no NEO. Nobody is coming when your soul screams, when your eyes can’t seem to stop watering. No one is coming to get you out of the hole. Broken hearts are alone. Love does not save. No one can be put in that position. She now understands that that was a myth. So she stopped making noises when she cried. She stopped trying to attract attention. She stopped looking for help. What for ? Why ?

There is nothing left to be said. She tried and she failed. It’s not over but she knows that every win is just a failure away. Life is like a butterfly trapped in a net, trying to get out : the butterfly has moments where it believes that it has found a way out, only to realize that it was a false hope. Every moment is an illusion until it realizes that it’s going to die here. And then it dies. As the butterfly, at first she thought a Saviour would come, then she thought realizing that there was no Saviour was her way out. To finally recognize that she was still trapped. If it’s not today, it will be tomorrow. If she strives today, tomorrow is not promised and there will be a time when she will fall again. Her soul is never getting healed, it has been wounded for ever. Or maybe it was created like that. She feels like she is drowning or about to drown most of the time, and when the pills kick in and she does not fell it anymore, she forgets that she is in high waters on a very slim boat. Then the pills stop kicking in and suddenly she is drowning again. And here she thought she left the sea and was on firm ground.

She knows now that there is no Saviour, because she can not be saved from herself. She is tied to herself and can not get away. So she accepted it. She is okay with not being saved, she is fine with being tied up to herself. She does not need anybody. But she will not keep going like this. She is tired and she made the decision to let go. It’s fine with her, both of her. She was faded, jaded. She got tired of playing this same game over and over. Now she is lucid. She is letting go. Soon she will be okay because she will make her way back to nothingness. She found her way out. She decided to save herself. She will be okay, because she is going to make it out. She will not make it out alive, but it’s fine with her, and it’s fine with me.

4 juillet 2019 0

How did I get here?

Today is a bad day, actually it is one of the long list of bad days that I have been having recently. Despite the fact that I have and am still trying my hardest to find positivity in here, I do not find it. I obviously thought about going to see a psychologist and/or psychiatrist, but financially it is kind of tight. Not to mention that I would have to look very long and hard or be lucky enough to find one with whom I « click » right away, otherwise it would be a waste of my time and money (that I do not have).

So I thought about talking to a friend. Funny enough I realised I did not have one. No one kind, caring, non-judjemental and understanding enough to help me.

Family members? None that could really help.

So I realise that after a quarter of a century on this earth, I can not find one single friend/family member that I trust to be caring and empathetic enough to go to. But I do know that I have been that friend/family member towards others in my life. And if hey needed me, I would still be there.

So, as my life is doomed, as there is no other hope, no other way to turn to, no future, I wonder. I wonder how did I get here? How did my life turn this way? Was it always so….like THIS being me? Or did I just started noticing?

How in the hell did I get here? I WANT OUT

7 août 2018 0

« Va (On se reverra) », Corneille

Tirée de l’album de 2002 « Parce qu’on vient de loin », cette chanson résume entièrement ma vision de l’âme sœur, cette personne que je n’ai jamais trouvé, qui pourrait me comprendre, toujours être présente pour moi. Une personne avec qui les mots sont inutiles, une personne qui est moi sans être moi, une personne que j’ai perdu, mais que je n’ai jamais eu l’occasion de rencontrer dans la vie réelle. Ou une personne que j’ai connu, mais perdu bien trop tôt, et dont la perte a creusé un vide impossible à combler.

Je pense qu’il y’a deux niveaux d’interprétation. Corneille parlait peut-être uniquement de son premier amour qu’il a perdu quand il a dû s’enfuir du Rwanda, et qu’il espère retrouver « dans l’au delà » puisqu’elle est morte. Mais cela pourrait également être une allégorie: cette fille pourrait en fait symboliser sa famille, ses proches, tous les gens qui lui sont chers et qu’il a perdu. Tous ces gens à qui il n’a pas osé dire « je t’aime » avant qu’ils ne lui soient arrachés, tous ces gens sans qui il n’arrive pas à continuer à avancer.

Cette personne, il sait qu’elle n’est plus, qu’il l’a perdu pour toujours dans cette vie.

Je m’en rappelle comme hier
De toi et moi avant la guerre
Nous étions jeunes et sans souci
Et on se prenait pour acquis

Mais continue de la chercher dans le regard de toutes les femmes qu’il croise. Il croit toujours la retrouver, mais il se rend toujours compte qu’elle est partie à jamais et que ce n’est qu’une illusion: le scénario se répète indéfiniment dans sa vie, il est constamment désillusionné.

Je passe ma vie à te chercher
Je pense souvent t’avoir trouvé
Mais elles ne sont jamais toi
Elles sont tout ce dont je rêve sauf toi

Il dit qu’elle seule aurait peut-être pu faire de lui l’homme qu’il n’est pas. Il imagine tout ce qu’ils auraient pu faire ensemble, il vit dans ses rêves et s’invente un passé et un futur avec elle.

Tu étais peut-être celle qui allait faire de moi l’homme que je ne suis pas
Personne ne le saura
Ça fait mal de savoir qu’un jour j’aurai peut-être pu renaître avec toi

Des fois la nuit je jette un coup d’œil
Sur ma vie si tu étais restée

Il essaie de se convaincre qu’il peut passer à autre chose. Il réalise qu’il s’empêche de vivre en continuant à « vivre dans le passé et le regret », que ce n’est pas sain, mais il le fait malgré lui.

Mais pas longtemps, je t’ai assez pleuré
Je sais qu’il faudrait que je te laisse partir
Mais je ne trouve de force que dans ton sourire
Tu vois c’est la mémoire qui m’empêche de vivre
Dont souvent je me sers afin de survivre

Ça me tue de vivre dans le passé et le regret mais je le fais malgré moi

Finalement il lui dit « va, va, un jour on se reverra », et que « l’amour reprendra » le jour où ils se reverront, parce qu’il doit mettre cet amour de côté, histoire de pouvoir vivre, en attendant de la retrouver. Il doit accepter l’idée d’être seul, en attendant de mourir pour la retrouver.

J’aurai dû te dire
Tout ce que j’ai pensé alors que je ne peux qu’écrire
C’est un peu tard, du moins dans cette vie
En attendant la nôtre, je te crie

[Refrain]
Va, va, un jour on se reverra, va
Quelque part à l’au-delà, l’histoire reprendra
Je nous le jure on se reverra
Va, va, un jour on se reverra, va
Quelque part à l’au-delà, l’amour reprendra
Je nous le jure on se reverra

Chanson d’amour, ode aux amours perdus, mais aussi ode à l’espoir de retrouver cet amour après cette vie.

4 avril 2018 1

Corneille

L’album « Parce qu’on vient de loin » de Corneille a été mon premier amour musical, quand j’ai découvert son auteur en 2002. CORNEILLE a été mon premier amour musical tout court! La première et dernière star dont je suis jamais tombée amoureuse et ai jamais voulu rencontrer. Depuis j’ai écouté tous ses albums jusqu’à celui de 2011 « Les inséparables ». J’ai appris toutes ses chansons par cœur, tellement elles me parlaient. Et encore aujourd’hui, 16 ans après sa découverte, quand j’écoute sa voix et ses paroles, j’ai toujours l’impression qu’il s’adresse à moi, qu’il raconte ma vie, notre vie. C’est ça le pouvoir de la musique: la seule chose qui survit au temps, qui rapproche et unit des étrangers, et qui conserve intacte chaque instant. Toute mon adolescence est imprégnée de ses chansons. Ses premiers albums m’ont aidée à mettre des mots sur mes sentiments à l’époque, et aujourd’hui ils me rappellent à quel point j’étais seule, et à quel point je le suis toujours.

Mais ce sont aussi de bons souvenirs, ce sont aussi des chansons d’espoir, d’amour qui m’ont accompagnée tout au long de mon adolescence. Du coup, à chaque fois que je l’écoute la nostalgie m’envahit. Chaque chanson de chaque album me rappelle des événements précis de ma vie, tristes ou heureux, mais la nostalgie est empreinte de tristesse, car des fois je regrette de ne pas avoir plus profité de certains moments, et des fois je revis juste avec autant d’ampleur la douleur que je ressentais à l’époque. Je pleure à chaque fois que je reprends ces chansons, parce que j’ai, et j’avais à l’époque, l’impression de partager mon mal-être avec quelqu’un. J’avais l’impression de ne plus être seule le temps d’une chanson, d’être soulagée. Je repassais en boucle les albums sur les CD que je rayais à force.

J’ai ressenti son évolution émotionnelle au cours de ces albums, qui a coïncidé avec mon adolescence, ou plutôt qui m’a aidée à traverser cette période de ma vie. Le premier « Parce qu’on vient de loin » (2002) était une boule de souffrance, qui s’est atténuée dans « Les marchands de rêves » (2005) qui parlait d’espoir, de courage, de deuil fait. Il parlait de faire le deuil des proches perdus, de courage, de futur plein de rêve, d’avenir brillant.

Puis il y’a eu une rupture pour moi, Corneille semblait s’être délivré de sa souffrance, être prêt à passer à autre chose après cet album, moi pas tout à fait. Alors pendant des années j’ai réécouté en boucle les anciens albums en ignorant l’album de 2006. Et puis il était devenu « maintream » à l’époque, son style avait un peu beaucoup changé, peut-être pour attirer plus de fans, je n’ai pas pu suivre.

« The birth of Cornelius » de 2007 a confirmé le fait qu’il était guéri, qu’il avait finit d’expier sa peine, moi toujours pas. Les albums précédents avaient dû réussir à le guérir, à lui faire trouver la paix, moi pas. J’ai tout de même craqué pour 7 chansons sur 12, mais celles-là n’ont pas marqué ma vie comme les anciennes.

« Sans titre » de 2009 a été aussi un peu mitigé: je n’ai aimé que 5 chansons sur 10, il était devenu un peu cynique et j’accrochais, mais il semblait toujours guéri, et moi toujours pas.

« Les inséparables » de 2011 ont marqué la rupture: je n’en ai écouté que 4 sur 16, il était devenu beaucoup trop mainstream et je ne retrouvai plus d’âme dans ses écrits, je ne m’y retrouvai plus autant.

Malheureusement je n’ai jamais pu aller à aucun de ses concerts, et si je devais mourir aujourd’hui cela ferait partie du top 10 de mes regrets.

3 avril 2018 2

Sans.

Vide de sens, vide de projet, vide d’ambition, vide d’envie, vide d’énergie,

A quoi bon tenter d’expliquer, les mots ne sortent pas comme il faut, les mots n’ont pas le sens recherché, la voix ne suit pas, et le message ne se fait pas comprendre. Alors à quoi bon tenter, à quoi bon parler? La léthargie qui envahit son corps est plus forte que la volonté de se faire comprendre. Cette volonté n’a pas disparu, le temps l’a usée, et le vide l’a surpassée.

La défaite est acceptée, elle s’est imposée. A quoi bon lutter puisque c’est perdu d’avance. Comment garder espoir de se faire comprendre quand on a passé sa vie à être incomprise? Elle a passé toute sa vie à chercher cette personne spéciale qui la comprendrait, sans jamais la trouver. Alors, elle s’est dit qu’il fallait plutôt l’attendre, après tout la patience est une vertu dit-on. Elle a attendu encore et encore, mais rien. Alors elle a fini par se rendre à l’évidence: cette personne n’existe pas, n’a jamais existé ou est morte avant de la rencontrer. Elle s’est rendue à l’évidence de sa solitude. Elle s’est enfermée dans cette prison, ou s’est-elle laissée emprisonner?

Elle s’est faite une raison et s’est adaptée. Mais parfois, ce besoin viscéral d’être comprise resurgit et reprend le dessus. Alors, malgré elle, elle se remet en route à la recherche de l’autre. Et parfois, il lui semble l’avoir trouvé. Puis, comme toujours, elle réalise l’illusion. Et se redécouvre seule au monde. Et se retrouve en prison. Puis elle réapprend à apprécier sa prison. Elle se demande toujours si cette prison est un choix ou si elle est captive, sans jamais trouver une réponse. Mais, à quoi bon trouver la réponse de toute façon puisqu’elle y est? Elle ne cesse d’y retourner car c’est le seul endroit où elle accepte sa réalité: être seule.

Seule dans sa prison sans porte, sans clé, sans plafond, sans sol, sans lumière, sans personne, sans temps, sans envie, sans parole, sans émotion, pleine de vide.

3 avril 2018 0

I H.A.T.E CHRISTMAS

Yep, I finally said it: I just hate Christmas and New year’s eve, like the whole festive season I just can not stand it.

People are overjoyed, faking hapiness or just being stupidly happy about nothing, the christmas decorations are just a hell of energy waste, the pressure to buy new stuff and make gifts is overwhelming (especially when you are broke), society makes you feel like you HAVE to be happy just ’cause, and you have this stupid urge to make NEW resolutions. You are forced to contemplate the past year (with your failures…) and you think you can just list a ton of new things to do and new behaviours and it will magically happen.

But it never does, you just ruin your bank account, you eat too much, and you take a lot of photos for the gram, the facebook or the pinterest. Moreover, you are either celebrating the fake birthday of Jesus (he certainaly was not born in December), or carrying a fake tradition that you don’t even know the origin (is it from the legend of Saint Nicolas? Is it a creation of Coca-Cola?). You don’t even know what you are celebrating in the end.

But hey what do I know! I hope you had a lovely Christmas,

Sincerely,

The Grinch

3 avril 2018 0

When reality hits the van

I bet Life is just staring at me right now like: « You’ve got jokes lady »

Why? Because when I was about 15 to 18 years old (yes I was THAT naive at 17 years old -_- ), I used to tell myself the story of my perfectly planned life, and it looked nothing like my actual life right now.

I used to think that by 25 years old, I would have finished my master’s degree, found a great job and jump-started my wonderful career. I would also be married, happily, and have one kid already. Of course back then I did not know my future husband but did I care bout the man? God no! My point was that I would be married at that age, no matter what.

Well, guess what? I am nearly 25 (like reeeaaaallyyyy nearly) and noooone of that, I repeat nooone of that is accomplished or even close! I mean, sure I got one master’s degree, but it was not the good one apparently because here am I, back in school for an other master…soooooo. Sure I made a big career move just right after that degree (oh my, was I proud of that!), buuuuut it all felt apart just months later. And sure I got engaged, but guess what? Your girl right here lost her ring 5 months after the engagement, sooooo let’s just say mariage is not around the corner.

Honestly if we were rewarded on how bad of a prophet we could be, man, I would be a millionaire! But then again, who would reward such foolery, right?

All of that to say how blasé I am just thinking about that damn 25th birthday: I want to disappear and erase that day from existence, like literally.

13 décembre 2017 0

Auteur : missintrovertandco