Blandine Rinkel: “We talk about depression, burnout, fear, stress, anxiety. No sadness.”

Does the sadness go away as summer approaches? On the contrary, when some take advantage of the sunny days, others hide a little more in their sadness. This is writer Blandine Rinkel’s point of view in this new letter.

dear sadness,

I recently read that your name has disappeared from the media.diam. vsit was the psychiatrist Serge Tisseron who made this point vshas in The one. We like to talk about depression, burn out, i.e‘Fearstress or fear. no sadness As if you disappeared from our lives. Back in this week The worldAnne Rodier wrote that two years of the Covid-19 epidemic had passed “Increase the fear in companies: absenteeism, burn-out, fear of illness, yesconcernedStudy has reached a milestone (…)

And you, sadness, you hide. You don’t have the physical authority of stress or anxiety, appearing less solid, almost mocking. You’re not a disgrace, no, and we still visit you. We visit you in a list of broken resolutions, in a closing bookstore, in a child’s shoe that was never worn, in a closed street, and in this lost cat that we think has been found.

But me, what fills me with sadness is weird, it’s summer.

In his text Another New York the reporter GayTalese wrote: “If the rain makes some New Yorkers sullen, others say (…) that on these days the city’s buildings look cleaner, taking on iridescent and toppled hues reminiscent of Monet’s paintings. Suicides in the city when it rains. In contrast, when the sun is out, New Yorkers look happy, but the people areWinners sink even deeper into their depression. Bellevue Hospital then records more suicide attempts.

Since we generally associate good weather with joy, an automatic joy, when sadness visits us on a bright day, it takes on a rare intensity.

There’s that untranslatable English word kenopsia. That kenopsiait is’the atmospheredisturbing era of a normally busy place: a neckrs of the school in the evening, an unlit office the weekendk-end, a big city in august.

Francoise Sagan wrote Hello sadness at eighteen: she told of the birth of grief, a summer in a villa on the Côte d’Azur, where the pleasures of swimming are swallowed up by the melancholy of the passing of time and by death, which also and especially strikes in broad daylight .

hello yes me know that You will visit me this summer.

In the city, it will be difficult and nobody will talk to each other. Nobody will need us anymore. On the Internet, everyone shows up with their activitiesaredepending on his life. A window up there gives off a summery roasting sound. It will be a timeless sound and When I hear it, like every year, I will experience the sadness of summer.

July AugustOh, those months of envy. Those cruel and sunny months oWhere Thrive those who know how to handle life, those who have families, circles of friends, a taste for abandonment and mint syrup. This month whenWhere the others will look at them, amazed and hide their inability to live simply as best they can.

Then, like an old dog with sagging lips, I will reconnect with you, banal and tender sadness, in the silence of the city you will be there, and at my wayMother I will try to love you.

good summer,
Blandine.

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