1683555990 Read Losing control getting depressed and daring to laugh

Read | Losing control, getting depressed and daring to laugh

Manu, 36, is a mother like so many. One day, like so many before her, she collapses, exhausted from chasing his cock, prisoner of a life she didn’t exactly choose.

Updated at 6:00 a.m

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Known story? Not quite. Alongside the track, Karine Glorieux’s latest novel (Mademoiselle Tic Tac), published by Quebec America these days, is certainly in line with several other writings about women’s great fatigue. A heavy trend and not exactly cheerful – we think of À boutte by Véronique Grenier or In the Land of Quiet Despair by Marie-Pierre Duval – which the author nevertheless approaches with a daring approach: humour.

Proposing the project to her publisher, Karine Glorieux even sold it like this: “It’s a comedy about burnout! »

Indeed, we laugh a great deal as we read the misadventures of this utterly imperfect mother, torn between her “disheveled” superego and her “wannabe Zen” counterpart. She makes mistakes, drinks too much and makes mistakes again. And not halfway. But some aspects of his slip-up, his questions about women’s mental distress (why do twice as many women as men suffer from depression?), and his heartfelt weeping over his fatigue ring a little too true for lack of a solid background of truth. “Yes, I’m tired,” said the narrator. I’m tired of being a single mom, a self-employed worker, a hard worker but a slacker at heart, and realizing that my face gets a little more wrinkled at the end of each of the days I haven’t seen go by . »

The taboo of depression

Met Karine Glorieux last week (to whom we owe the Ma première fois collective), whom we’ve interviewed enough times to know that she runs half marathons like the Manu in her novel, but probably not enough to know the downside of his mind Health, confirms: “It’s not my story, she says, but there are parts that are very true. »

Neither a single mother nor self-employed (she teaches literature at CEGEP), but yes, Karine Glorieux also experienced a real “panic attack” a few years ago. She also suffered from an “adjustment disorder” and initially refused treatment. Ah yes, and she also left out of nowhere to see if she was there elsewhere (in Florida, by car, and on a whim). And no, she had never spoken about it officially before.

Why exactly? Because the taboo. Because of the stigma. Especially if you have a parent who was there. “I always said to myself: It never happens to me, confide in me. And when it happened to me, I felt a little ashamed. difficulty talking about it. Difficulties she overcame by watching her children grow up and grow up in turn.

This is the book I wanted when I was depressed. I wish someone had said to me: hehe, okay, you can do it, and you can even laugh about it!

Karine Glorieux, author

And she dares to laugh about it in the 243 pages of the story, which is rich in twists and turns of all kinds. “Laughing is a way of distancing yourself from a situation,” she says. And you can laugh at almost anything. […] Mocking yourself is a first step to healing. »

Ah great ? “When you can make fun of yourself, you can take things lightly and decide to change them. »

And Karine Glorieux knows what she’s talking about. “That’s what burnout is about, even the most insignificant things,” she explains. Folding laundry becomes as important as caring for a sick father. Laughter gives you the opportunity to say to yourself: maybe it’s not that important! »

And this tone also dominates the entire text. She also doesn’t hide it: “It’s a novel that I wanted to make optimistic. In her Manu’s existential quest, in search of what she once was and what she has lost with life, years and motherhood, several important connections emerge: to her children, of course, but also to her parents, her friends and one Meeting an older woman who was particularly influential. “And those connections are super important. And we women are good at creating them. »

Karine Glorieux didn’t moralize by two cents, but still wanted her Manu to find herself in the end, thanks largely to her medication. “She’s on her damn antidepressants, yeah,” she concludes. She manages, but not alone. And that’s okay. It’s okay to have help. “Spread the word. And we laugh about it.

Next to the track

Next to the track

Quebec America

243 pages