Winter holidays, staying with cousins in the mountains. On the morning of our departure, I get up first, as I often do; I love this moment in the quiet house. I make myself a coffee and let my mind wander, gazing at the peaks through the window of the common room.
Except that here, everything is white, covered with 20 cm of snow, and not just on the peaks, but all around, and throughout the valley!
Oh dear, will the regional train that's supposed to take us back actually be running? Will we be able to get off at the station to catch it? Will the snowplow have time to clear the tracks? And if the regional train is late, we'll miss our connection with the TGV. And tomorrow, I'm working; I have a live radio broadcast.
Here we go, my brain is starting up in super stress ; I have to calm it down quickly or the day will be awful.
So here I am, watching the snow that's starting to fall again, wondering if the regional train..., if the high-speed train..., if the snowplow...
At that moment, everyone started arriving in the room, exclaiming, "How beautiful!" It was indeed beautiful, but I would have preferred it not to be the day of our departure. Then my wife chimed in, also exclaiming, "Did you see how beautiful it is?" I told her that yes, I had, but it wasn't convenient for us. Her reply: "Don't worry, enjoy it a little, we're not leaving for another three hours."
Pfff… I feel like I shouldn't insist, otherwise everyone will tease me ("the stressed-out shrink!").
Well, they're right, worrying is pointless, it won't stop the snow. I know that. I just need to believe it now. Accepting an idea intellectually isn't the same as embracing it emotionally.
But I know how to do it. So, I do it.
First, I breathe and calm my body; then, I remind myself that my thoughts – “we’re going to miss the train” – are hypotheses, not certainties; finally, I cultivate pleasant emotions within myself. For this last point, it’s easy: I settle into an armchair by the window and admire the view.
It's true, the falling snow is magnificent. The others are around the breakfast table and have forgotten about me. I'm doing my mental calming work in my corner, peacefully, mindfully. After half an hour, there it is, I feel it's working. I breathe calmly, I tell myself we'll see, that whatever happens, it's not a big deal. I believe it this time; not like before.
My brain is like that; it almost never offers me joy and lightness without effort. I have to force it. But I forgive it: it also offers me plenty of other pleasant things.
How did it end?
The snow stopped, our trains were on time, and that very evening we were in Paris. There, as I drifted off to sleep, I reflected on the beauty of the snow, falling gently…
Illustration: "There was too much snow at home, we're coming to spend some time in the warmth and sun with our friends..." (Unhappy Viking warriors).
PS: This column was originally published in Psychologies Magazine in February 2025.