The Great Unpacking Of Love
Part 16

Impossible, I’m an atheist. Well then, for what, for what? Mr. Yang! Yes, that’s a good reason to get up.

Today I met my psychiatrist. Hopefully it will manage to ease my walking ordeal. Come on, Adèle, get up!

I randomly grab a shapeless sweatshirt and jogging pants which I put on without much conviction. Come on, head to breakfast!

Hey, it’s strange, today the trays are already on the tables. I approach and notice that each of them has the name of a patient. I’m looking for mine. Ah, there it is, on the table at the very back of the restaurant. But it’s strange, there are only two breakfasts. I wonder who I’m going to end up with. For a one-on-one, let’s pray that my counterpart isn’t too cracked. I curiously eye the tray of the stranger trying to decipher the name: Mantinko. I look up and my retina collides with the mirrored cabinet from the day before. His gaze freezes me in place. He points to the label where a name is written. I read it to him and instantly he sits down across from me.

— Hello Mantinko.

During the meal, I respect his silence and his screaming desire to isolate himself, headphones on. I don’t dare look at him. I eat quietly. I work obsessively to butter my toast. Damn, there’s nothing to garnish it. Suddenly, Mantinko hands me his bowl of jam. I can’t believe it, through this simple gesture which may seem innocuous to ordinary mortals, he managed to make a furtive incursion into the world of the living. His gesture touches me deeply. I wonder about the burdens he drags behind him to look so desperate, so lost, so hateful even.

10 a.m.

— Come in, Mrs. Ying. Sit down.

— Hello, Doctor Yang.

– How are you ?

—Actually, I don’t feel very well. I only want to stay in my bubble, I want to be left alone, without constraints, without pressure, free to face my pain, face myself. I want to be allowed to digest the low blows of life and the attacks of the heart.

—Aren’t you in the right place here?

— Yes, absolutely, but I think it will take me time to raise my head.

— The whole team will help you, Mrs. Ying

— I can’t stand the judgment of others anymore. Who can guess the wounds hidden behind a pretty, friendly, smiling face? How can we interpret aggressive behavior, or even anger worthy of Etna, without knowing the underside of the cards?

— You are right Ms. Ying, there is no doubt that behind all inappropriate behavior lies pain, distress, even despair. It is the role of every psychiatrist to search deep within wounded beings for their true torments in order to help them tame them and find inner peace. I only know one way to achieve this: Love, kindness and patience.

— Doctor Yang, I was born on All Dead Day. Sometimes I wonder if this fateful date did not determine my life path. Did you know that the suicide rate in my family is abnormally high?

— I hope, Madame Ying, that you no longer cultivate the project of increasing your family statistics.

— It’s true that my morale is at the bottom of my socks. However, in my family, it is fashionable to say: “Oh, Adèle recovers from everything, even the worst. She has incredible strength of character. » Except that this time, I am hitting the limits of what is acceptable! The repeated slaps in the face exhausted me and got the better of me.

— Hence your voluntary presence in our service?

– Quite. This time, I feel incapable of returning to the surface of my existence alone. I need a lifeline.

— I understand you, Madame Ying. You know, when someone is drowning, you don’t send them a learn-to-swim manual.

11 a.m.

I head to the living room, there is still an hour before lunch. I would read a magazine with a low IQ, so as not to overtax my completely softened neurons.

I see Mantinko sitting in a club at the back of the living room. I walk towards him.

— Hello Mantinko.

— Hello…

— Adèle, my name is Adèle.

— Adèle, hello.

– You slept well ?

– No. I can not sleep.

— Your doctor doesn’t prescribe you nightmare sleepers?

— Yes, but I hate taking them. When I wake up, I feel like my nightmares are rushing to my throat like wild wolves.

— But where do you come from, Mantinko?

— From Guinea.

— From Guinea? I admit that I know nothing about this country.

— My country is a beautiful country where you find the sea, beaches, rivers with lots of waterfalls as well as mountains.

— I didn’t imagine Guinea that way at all. But what region do you come from exactly?

— I come from Fouta Djallon in the Hauts Plateaux and I lived in Kindia. Does this ring a bell ?

– Not at all. Continue, I want to discover your country through your eyes.

— Where I live, there is so much water that they say it’s the Water Tower of West Africa. With my friends, I often went to swim in a waterfall called “Bridal Veil”.

— How poetic is “Bridal Veil”…

— Yes, this waterfall really looks like a young bride’s veil.

— Really so beautiful!

— But then, why did you leave this Eden, Mantinko?

— Poverty, hunger. You know, Adèle, Guinea is one of the poorest countries on the planet

— I didn’t know that.

— Do you know what my first name means, Adèle?

– No.

— Mantinko means “Great Man”.

— As if it was created for you!

— Adèle, could you help me fill out the meal sheets? I do not know how to read.

– Carefree.

— I also have to tell you, I don’t eat pork.

— No problem, come on, let’s go for the Basquaise chicken, the veal blanquette and the beef bourguignon!

2 p.m.

This afternoon, I participate for the first time in the Unit’s creative therapeutic workshops. I have always loved art, creativity and imagination. I’m looking forward to it.

I enter timidly into a large room which looks exactly like an artist’s studio. My eye is attracted by funny lamps, fabrics in the colors of happiness, black pencils showing a dirty look, creations with zero percent carbon footprint, a sewing machine, colorful destiny paper as well as a multitude of materials of all kinds. I walk towards the person who appears to be the captain of this drunken boat.

– Good morning.

— Hello, Madam…

— Adèle. I signed up for this afternoon’s Workshop.

— Welcome among us Adèle. My first name is Claude, I am in charge today. There are actually two of us, if you continue the adventure with us, you will certainly meet Mariette. Come with me, I will explain to you how the Workshop works.

Here you enter the world of democracy that creates destiny. You are invited to freely choose your restructuring activity, in tune with your current state of mind. But you should know that any artistic work started must be finished before starting another one. I am here to give you advice and introduce you to various techniques, but under no circumstances will I create for you. Try to put your discomfort at the service of your existential work of art. Let your suffering lie on paper, use the palette of your feelings, sculpt the contours of your milky way, unravel your dark thoughts to reknit them with a golden thread, do not hesitate to use, even abuse, the watercolor to cover your wounds. Whatever the medium, it will be yours, the one you choose to express yourself and try to tame your pain, your torment, even your distress. Adèle, do you have a favorite creative technique?

— No, not particularly. But I want to put my depression at the service of creativity.

— Like Vincent?

— Oh, I don’t have the manic-artistic talent of the great Van Gogh.

— See, here, Camille is coloring a mandala.

— No, no, I have no patience and contrary to the expected effect, the mandala irritates me to no end.

— Okay, no mandala. Joseph crochets a Doudou for his grandson. Do you have children, Adèle?

— Yes, two, a girl and a boy, but much too big to give them a comfort blanket, even if it was therapeutic.

— No Doudou. If you have nimble fingers, why not sew a cushion with one of the countless kindness fabrics you see out there?

— A little too simple for me who handles the machine to sew my destiny like no other.

— You could quilt it.

– To like ?

— Adèle, we are at La Montgolfière not in the “Lotus Bleu”. Quilting is a sewing technique that gives relief to a fabric. It is very old and dates back to Mesopotamia. Quilting can be done by machine or by hand. However, I advise you to do it by hand, for the soothing-stunning therapeutic effect it provides and one hundred percent organic. Does that tempt you?

— Come on, let’s rush towards the healing unknown!