broken heart, celibacy, life, love, men, relationships, thoughts, women

The love gurus

There’s such a market for the broken hearts. When you search on internet, which is not a media, but a place of exchanges, it’s easy to find various sites which promise to you to get your ex back. There are around 941.000.000 results on Google if you type this request. Some will lead you to a press article from a well known magazine, but others will lead you to a so-called specialist about relationships. Usually, these will all start with several reasons why you push your significant other away, and then offer you to register for free to their newsletters by giving your email address.

If you register to their newsletters, you will receive emails on a regular basis, but also offers to buy an e-book. Some will directly mention the ad. While others will trick you to a video link, where you will never get the answer you need, but you will receive at the end of the long video the exclusive offer to buy an e-book with a rebate from the original price.

If you buy the e-book, you will find some advices. But generally, these always start with testimonies from other readers, who always say they’re so happy they have found the one thanks to A. or C. or B.’s precious advices. They will all tell you that the medias show a wrong side of love and seduction, and that you should avoid  calling him all the time if you’re a woman and make him jealous by dating plenty of other guys. As if it was that easy.

All of them will promise you to be irresistible, but you have to pay for it.  They will all tell you they have the secret to make the one fall in love with you.

It just reminds me of the voodoo leaflets I receive in my mailbox, in which a marabout tells you he can heal you disease or bring you loved one back.

Unfortunately, when you’re weak and broken hearted, you can easily listen to those sirens.

But relationships are much more complicated than that.

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life, love, men, relationships, thoughts, women

The helping hand

In my country, our last government took a tough stance against immigration. Some immigrants were asked to leave our territory, even if they are European. Among those who were asked to leave the country, there was a group of Afghans. All of them were illegal and got refused their status as a political refugee.

They made the headlines at the end of last year as they protested a lot in front of all of our ministers’ cabinet. And then, they disappeared. From the media scope, to be fair.

But two weeks ago, I met one of them, during a walk. I registered to a group lead by two psychologists who propose a walk therapy. I was curious about it, as I receive their emails.

The walk was around a castle not very far from my place. Among our group, there were only women, except one man, who was brought there by one of the woman.

Later, she explained she welcomed him in her house, as she was disgusted by our government decision about the Afghans. She said he was sick. But he was able to walk the ten miles we walked without any problems.

Many refugees here in my country try to stay by pretending they’re sick. But as our medias discovered, most of them were faking it. So our government got really careful with this and asked for several controls before granting the right to stay in my country. As a result, the number of demands due to sickness has dropped significantly.

The woman in my group said  her refugee already saw three doctors, who didn’t find anything wrong with him. He was about to meet a fourth one after the walk.

She said she had proposed him to marry her, so he could stay. But he didn’t accept her offer. She also said she wanted to buy him clothes, but he refused. He did accept the clothes given for free by one of her friends. Those clothes were expensive, as she said.

She acted like a mother with him. Yet, I wondered what she was doing in our group. Because this group is a collective therapy. It’s not a simple walk. As I understood, it wasn’t her first time in this group, unlike me. She knew the two psychologists well. Their therapy is simple: as you walk, you are free to go and talk to them in private if you want to.

Like we say in french, ” charité bien ordonnée commence par soi-même”.

By trying to save him, she maybe trying to save herself.

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life, love, relationships, thoughts, Uncategorized, women

How is your life different from your mother’s?

The Washington Post did a wonderful webdoc about women and their relationship with their mother. The journal asked them what is different in their life from their mother’s.

Mother’s day is over now, but I still wonder what is different in my life from my mother’s.

I’m 36, and at that age, my mom had already two daughters, my sister and I. I’m not married, and I don’t have any kid. I don’t think I ever will. I live alone. I have a lover. We keep our relationship secret.

My mother left her country at 22 to start a new life in my country, where she met my father two years later, and got married one year after. She got pregnant at 26 for the first time. Both of my parents were working, and my mom didn’t have her family around her to help her. As a nurse, she had a difficult life, sometimes working even the weekends. I never heard her complaining.

I’m not a migrant like my mom. I don’t come from a poor country.  I just left my town to live in my city, close to my job. I also have a difficult job, where I don’t really count my hours. I’m proud when I know I helped people with my work, even if it is all about helping people avoiding to lose money in bad investments. It’s not really the same as helping people feeling better, like my mom did.

I’m a writer, and a bookworm. No one else is like me in my family.

My mother had a hard time at the beginning accepting my job. She was afraid it was not sustainable. She may be right: journalism isn’t safe. In my country, but everywhere else, newsrooms are losing more and more of their workforce as the competition gets more and more fierce.

When I started as a journalist ten years ago, my mom frequently told me to pass the examinations to enter the public sector, because she thought it was easier, well paid. She didn’t understand my job. And to be fair, I complained a lot about my job at the beginning, because let’s face it, newsrooms are not exactly welcoming to new journalists.  I also entered a world very misogynist, where I was often the only woman. There were very few women when I started in my newsroom. It has changed a bit, but men are still a majority. And as a financial journalist, it’s even worse when you go out to search for your stories. I don’t count the many times where I was the only woman in the room, around men who looked at me really angry or amused. But I gained allies too.

Ten years have passed and I’m still there. I’ve lost many of my coworkers, tired about finance, tired about the long hours at work, tired about the low salary compared to what the private sector could offer,  tired about the petty fights with our chief editors or with coworkers. Some have left journalism to become entrepreneurs, PR, politicians, fund managers. But we remain close to each other.

My mom doesn’t tell me anymore to leave journalism now. Probably because she’s proud of me.

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