For her 35th birthday, Juliette* asked only one gift from her 61-year-old mother: that she begin psychotherapy.
The sentence came out of her mouth “like that”, without her thinking about it, during yet another “heavy” discussion, during a Paris-Lisbon flight.
“Pfff.”
This is the onomatopoeia that the thirty-year-old received in response, accompanied by two eyes raised to the sky and one: “you're not serious”.
Juliette was, however.
She and her sister have already suggested that their mother consult a dozen times so that she can soothe her wounds.
“She recovered from breast cancer 30 years ago but never really accepted it,” explains Juliette.
She never really understood why she survived, when so many others around them died.
Since then, it’s a bit as if she had forbidden herself from being happy.”
The young woman especially feels angry.
Her suffering invades her and taints their mother-daughter relationship.
“But she is very far from saying that psychotherapy…
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