{"id":79285,"date":"2025-11-16T05:55:57","date_gmt":"2025-11-16T10:55:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/?p=79285"},"modified":"2025-11-13T10:03:53","modified_gmt":"2025-11-13T15:03:53","slug":"heal-yourself-by-doing-what-you-love-2025","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/lettre-mme-cora\/faire-ce-que-nous-aimons-nous-guerit\/","title":{"rendered":"Heal yourself by doing what you love"},"content":{"rendered":"

Ouverts le 27\u00a0mai\u00a01987, le jour de mes 40\u00a0ans, les restaurants Cora ont f\u00eat\u00e9 leur 38th<\/sup>\u00a0anniversaire d\u2019existence cette ann\u00e9e. Maman divorc\u00e9e avec trois ados sur les bras, j\u2019\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s loin de me douter qu\u2019en ouvrant ce tout petit resto, je recevrais le plus gros cadeau au monde\u00a0: la cl\u00e9 qui allait m\u2019ouvrir la porte d\u2019un avenir mirobolant.<\/p>\n

Apr\u00e8s un divorce sans pension alimentaire, j\u2019ai travaill\u00e9 en restauration six \u00e0 sept jours par semaine pendant sept ans, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019un violent \u00ab\u00a0burnout\u00a0\u00bb immobilise mon esprit. Mon p\u00e8re avait dit un jour que j\u2019\u00e9tais une force de la nature; \u00ab\u00a0forte comme un cheval\u00a0\u00bb, avait-il ajout\u00e9. Mes deux parents \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 morts lorsque l\u2019\u00e9puisement professionnel \u00e9trangla mon esprit. Les pauvres ne m\u2019ont pas vue en petite souris, immobilis\u00e9e de peur dans sa trappe. J\u2019avais travaill\u00e9 comme une forcen\u00e9e lorsque soudain, sans crier gare, l\u2019\u00e9puisement s\u2019empara de tout mon corps; je devins incapable de cuire une soupe pour mes enfants, incapable de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, incapable de r\u00e9agir.<\/p>\n

J\u2019ai pass\u00e9 deux longs mois \u00e9tendue sur le divan du salon \u00e0 ne plus savoir qui j\u2019\u00e9tais, ni o\u00f9 j\u2019allais; comme si mon \u00e9nergie s\u2019\u00e9tait enfuie de mon corps. Heureusement, quelqu\u2019un parla un jour \u00e0 mon plus vieux d\u2019un docteur qui s\u2019y connaissait en la mati\u00e8re. Je me souviens encore de cette rencontre. L\u2019homme tr\u00e8s \u00e2g\u00e9 ressemblait beaucoup plus \u00e0 un antique philosophe en toge blanche qu\u2019\u00e0 un m\u00e9decin d\u2019aujourd\u2019hui. Il m\u2019a pourtant dit qu\u2019il n\u2019existait aucun m\u00e9dicament pour gu\u00e9rir une extr\u00eame fatigue, juste du repos; beaucoup de repos. Le \u00ab\u00a0burnout\u00a0\u00bb, conclut-il, \u00e7a se gu\u00e9rit \u00e0 force de se faire plaisir!<\/p>\n

Je me retrouvais compl\u00e8tement d\u00e9boussol\u00e9e. Comment allais-je me faire plaisir? J\u2019\u00e9tais incapable de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir \u00e0 ce sujet. Depuis que j\u2019avais abandonn\u00e9 mes \u00e9tudes pour me marier oblig\u00e9e, j\u2019avais travers\u00e9 13\u00a0ans de d\u00e9plaisirs quotidiens. Puis, j\u2019avais d\u00fb travailler comme une d\u00e9cha\u00een\u00e9e pour r\u00e9pondre convenablement aux besoins de mes enfants. C\u2019est pourtant eux, ces bienheureux adolescents, qui ont trouv\u00e9 la solution, le rem\u00e8de magique pour me gu\u00e9rir. \u00ab\u00a0Maman, pourquoi n\u2019\u00e9crirais-tu pas? Tu aimais tellement \u00e7a lorsqu\u2019on \u00e9tait petits; tu \u00e9crivais m\u00eame en cachette de papa, la plupart du temps. Pourquoi ne pas essayer maintenant? Je te donne mon cahier \u00e0 anneaux\u00a0\u00bb, m\u2019avait dit le plus vieux. \u00ab\u00a0S\u2019il te pla\u00eet, maman, je te pr\u00eate mes stylos\u00a0\u00bb, ajouta sa s\u0153ur.<\/p>\n

C\u2019est ainsi, ligne apr\u00e8s ligne, tr\u00e8s tranquillement, deux ou trois petits paragraphes par jour, que l\u2019encre a racont\u00e9 l\u2019histoire du mauvais mariage; l\u2019assassinat de la belle jeune fille que j\u2019\u00e9tais et la dure survie d\u2019apr\u00e8s. De jour en jour, mon corps reprenait vie; comme si les morceaux d\u2019un casse-t\u00eate s\u2019assemblaient d\u2019eux-m\u00eames dans ma t\u00eate. Les enfants d\u00e9posaient des petits plats sur la table du salon; ils me pr\u00e9paraient des thermos de caf\u00e9 que je buvais avec de plus en plus de satisfaction.<\/p>\n

Puis, un matin, la plume s\u2019est ass\u00e9ch\u00e9e. Soudainement, je n\u2019avais plus rien \u00e0 dire. Mon corps et ma t\u00eate prenaient du mieux; ils voulaient se lever, aller dehors, voir le soleil et marcher dans l\u2019herbe. En jaquette et en pantoufles, j\u2019ai commenc\u00e9 par sortir la balayeuse de l\u2019armoire et nettoyer le tapis du salon o\u00f9 des milliers de miettes de pain et de biscuits \u00e9taient tomb\u00e9s de mes collations. Sur la table basse, trois tasses \u00e0 caf\u00e9 vides attendaient que je les ramasse. Surtout, j\u2019avais le go\u00fbt de le faire, de nettoyer tout mon campement de fortune, et de ranger quelque part mes pr\u00e9cieux brouillons d\u2019\u00e9criture. Peut-\u00eatre qu\u2019en les \u00e9crivant, la montagne de chagrins que je transportais depuis toujours a fondu?<\/p>\n

Le vieux docteur philosophe avait eu raison : FAIRE CE QUE NOUS AIMONS NOUS GU\u00c9RIT. Il m\u2019avait prescrit trois mois et demi de repos, mais je n\u2019ai pas eu \u00e0 compter les jours puisqu\u2019un miracle est arriv\u00e9, un extraordinaire miracle, mille fois plus gros que l\u2019\u00e9closion des premi\u00e8res jonquilles. J\u2019allais bien et je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 chercher un endroit dans les alentours o\u00f9 aller prendre un caf\u00e9 avec un calepin d\u2019\u00e9criture. Le surlendemain d\u2019avoir conduit ma Renault\u00a05 pour la premi\u00e8re fois depuis que je m\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9croul\u00e9e d\u2019\u00e9puisement, le plus vieux m\u2019annon\u00e7a qu\u2019il y avait gr\u00e8ve des autobus et que j\u2019allais devoir le conduire \u00e0 Montr\u00e9al pour une entrevue d\u2019embauche. J\u2019ai tout de suite dit oui, sans r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir et, surtout, j'\u00e9tais contente de pouvoir enfin \u00eatre utile \u00e0 ce grand gar\u00e7on d\u00e9brouillard. Je m\u2019en souviens encore, j\u2019avais rougi mes l\u00e8vres et tress\u00e9 mes cheveux en couronne sur ma t\u00eate. C\u2019\u00e9tait bon signe.<\/p>\n

En traversant le boulevard de la C\u00f4te Vertu, j\u2019ai soudainement \u00e9t\u00e9 happ\u00e9e par une affiche de RESTAURANT \u00c0 VENDRE placard\u00e9e au premier \u00e9tage d\u2019un petit immeuble plut\u00f4t d\u00e9fra\u00eechi. Je n\u2019oublierai jamais ce moment. Je savais qu\u2019il se passait quelque chose dans ma t\u00eate, un revirement de situation\u00a0qui, plus tard,\u00a0me ferait penser \u00e0 Paul\u00a0de\u00a0Tarse tomb\u00e9 de son cheval sur le chemin de Damas. J\u2019ai\u00a0fix\u00e9 la pancarte et je me\u00a0suis promis de revenir m\u2019informer apr\u00e8s avoir d\u00e9pos\u00e9 mon fils.<\/p>\n

Apr\u00e8s sept ann\u00e9es \u00e0 l\u2019emploi d\u2019un tr\u00e8s grand restaurant populaire de\u00a0Laval, j\u2019avais acquis une excellente r\u00e9putation, un poste de direction et un salaire hautement suffisant. Tout le personnel, les patrons et la fid\u00e8le client\u00e8le attendaient mon retour avec impatience, et je le savais de source s\u00fbre. Pourtant, dans un seul instant, le petit restaurant abandonn\u00e9 crois\u00e9 au hasard, ferm\u00e9 depuis deux longues ann\u00e9es, s\u2019est inscrit en id\u00e9e dans ma t\u00eate comme si c\u2019\u00e9tait la chose la plus normale \u00e0 faire.<\/p>\n

Lorsqu\u2019on n\u00e9glige notre \u00e9quilibre, nos besoins fondamentaux et notre bienveillante s\u00e9r\u00e9nit\u00e9,\u00a0l\u2019ultime architecte\u00a0de nos vies\u00a0nous ram\u00e8ne \u00e0 l\u2019ordre. Il fabrique des miracles aussi souvent que nous en avons besoin pour comprendre. Sans crier gare, sans que nous le r\u00e9alisions bien souvent, il nous envoie des id\u00e9es mirobolantes, des r\u00eaves pr\u00e9monitoires et des cl\u00e9s magiques.<\/p>\n

Le plus grand miracle \u00e0 m\u2019\u00eatre arriv\u00e9, c\u2019est d\u2019avoir cru, sans vraiment comprendre, tout ce\u00a0que cette affiche de RESTAURANT \u00c0 VENDRE avait \u00e0 me dire.<\/p>\n

Cora
\n\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Ouverts le 27\u00a0mai\u00a01987, le jour de mes 40\u00a0ans, les restaurants Cora ont […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":79286,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-79285","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":"","contenu_en":"Opened on May\u00a027,\u00a01987, the day I turned 40, Cora restaurants celebrated their 38th anniversary this year. As a divorced mother raising three teens, I had no idea that when I opened that tiny restaurant, I would receive the best gift in the world: the key that would open the door to an incredible future.\r\n\r\nAfter a divorce with no alimony, I worked in the restaurant business 6 to 7\u00a0days a week for 7\u00a0years until my mind was crippled by a severe burnout. My father once said I was a force of nature; \u201cstrong as a horse,\u201d he would say. Both my parents were already dead when burnout smothered my spirit. They didn\u2019t have to witness this small mouse, trapped and frozen in fear. I had been working nonstop when suddenly, without warning, exhaustion took over my whole body; I became unable to cook soup for my children, unable to think, unable to respond.\r\n\r\nI spent two long months lying flat out on the couch in the living room not knowing who I was or where I was going; it was as if my energy had fled my body. Fortunately, one day someone told my eldest about a doctor who might be able to help. I still remember that meeting. He was a very old man who resembled more of an ancient toga-clad philosopher than a modern-day doctor. The treatment he prescribed was simple: There is no medicine to cure extreme fatigue, just rest, lots of rest. \u201cBurnout,\u201d he concluded, \u201ccan be cured by doing what you love!\u201d\r\n\r\nI was completely confused. How was I going to do what I love? I was unable to think about it. Since dropping out of school to get married because I was pregnant, I had endured 13 years of daily misery. Then I had to work like a madwoman to provide for my children\u2019s needs. And yet it was they, these precious teenagers, who found the solution, the magic remedy to cure me:\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cMom, why not write? You loved it so much when we were little. You even wrote in secret most of the time so Dad wouldn\u2019t know. Why not try it now? I\u2019ll give you my ring binder,\u201d said the older boy.\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cPlease, Mom, I\u2019ll lend you my pens,\u201d said his sister.\r\n\r\nAnd so line after line, very quietly, two or three short paragraphs a day, the pen\u2019s ink told the story of a bad marriage, the death of the beautiful girl I had been and the hardship that followed. Day by day, my body came back to life, as if the pieces of a puzzle were putting themselves together in my mind. The children put little dishes on the living room table, they made me thermoses of coffee that I drank with increasing satisfaction.\r\n\r\nThen one morning the pen dried up. Suddenly I had nothing to say. My body and head were getting better. They wanted to get up, go outside, see the sun and walk in the grass. Wearing a long nightgown and slippers, I started by taking the vacuum out of the closet and removing all the breadcrumbs and bits of biscuit that had fallen on the carpet as I ate. On the coffee table, three empty coffee cups were waiting to be collected. And I felt like doing it, cleaning up my makeshift camp and putting away my sad stories somewhere. Had I managed to melt the mountain of sorrows I had carried to that moment?\r\n\r\nThe old doctor-philosopher was right: DOING WHAT YOU LOVE HEALS YOU. He had prescribed 3\u00bd months of rest, but a miracle happened before I even had time to count the days, an extraordinary miracle, a thousand times bigger than spring\u2019s first daffodil. I was fine and started to look for a place in the neighbourhood to have a coffee and write. And, the day after, I drove my Renaud 5 for the first time after my eldest boy announced that I had to take him downtown for an interview because there was a bus strike. I said YES immediately, happy at last to be useful to this big, capable boy. I still remember putting on lipstick on and braiding my hair into a crown on my head. It was a good sign.\r\n\r\nAs I was crossing C\u00f4te-Vertu Blvd., in Montreal, a RESTAURANT FOR SALE sign on the first floor of a small, rather run-down building caught my eye. I will never forget that moment. I knew something was going on in my head. A turn of events that would later remind me of Saint\u00a0Paul falling off his horse on the road to Damascus. I stared at the sign and promised myself that after I dropped off my son, I would stop by and inquire.\r\n\r\nAfter 7 years in a very large and popular restaurant, I had acquired an excellent reputation, a management position and a generous salary. And all the staff, bosses and loyal customers were looking forward to my return. I had it on good authority. And now, in a single moment, a little abandoned restaurant I had come across by total fluke, closed for two long years, entered my mind as if it were the most natural thing in the world.\r\n\r\nWhen we neglect our balance, basic needs and inner serenity, the ultimate architect of our lives brings us back to where we need to be. Miracles happen as many times as needed until we finally get it. Without warning, and often without us realizing it, they send us brilliant ideas, prophetic dreams and magic keys.\r\n\r\nThe greatest miracle that happened to me that day was that I believed in that RESTAURANT FOR SALE sign without wholly understanding what it was telling me.\r\nCora\r\n\u2764\ufe0f"},"yoast_head":"\nFaire ce que nous aimons nous gu\u00e9rit – Cora D\u00e9jeuners et d\u00eeners<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/mme-coras-letter\/heal-yourself-by-doing-what-you-love-2025\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Faire ce que nous aimons nous gu\u00e9rit – Cora D\u00e9jeuners et d\u00eeners\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Ouverts le 27\u00a0mai\u00a01987, le jour de mes 40\u00a0ans, les restaurants Cora ont […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/mme-coras-letter\/heal-yourself-by-doing-what-you-love-2025\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Cora D\u00e9jeuners et d\u00eeners\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/corarestaurants\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2025-11-16T10:55:57+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/16-novembre-2025_Faire-ce-que-nous-aimons-nous-guerit_1025.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1025\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1025\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Isabel P. 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