A “little mouse” and a man

And yet, it is in his “grilled cheese shop” that Christian Langevin welcomes me, in the middle of the afternoon, among the dinner and supper customers. “I needed a project to stay in action, to occupy my mind.”

Barely a year and a half ago, his life was meaningless. “Before, I got up around 6:30 a.m., 7 a.m., after the day before, I wasn’t really functional. I would have a meal, then around 2:30 or 3 p.m., I would start drinking again alone in my room, in front of my computer. I drank until 7:30 p.m., 8 p.m., then I went to bed, really hot.”

But before that, Christian Langevin was general manager in a hotel.

He was in his late thirties, the bottle began to take up more and more space in his life, until it took over his entire life. At his lowest point, Christian had completely isolated himself from the world and no longer spoke to anyone. He only left his house to run errands for his mother, his only link with the outside world.

He often wondered what it all meant. “I went to Google Map to look at the Quebec Bridge, to see where to jump.”

When his mother died in June 2023, he found himself, at 43, all alone with his demons. “Losing my mother was a trigger. When you use, the substance is not the problem, it is the solution that is destroying your life and everything around you. It’s a problem of personal love, it’s like we’re allergic to ourselves.”

He only saw two options: “I had the choice between throwing myself off the bridge or living.”

You know what he chose.

“The first step was to stop using. It took a bit of time to collect the money to go to therapy at Villa Saint-Léonard [à Saint-Raymond de Portneuf]but I succeeded. I went there for six weeks and then I went to Portage, where he continued his path to sobriety for another six weeks.

“I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, other than not wanting to go back to hotels. In Portage, they told us about the CFE (the Entrepreneurship Training Center) and loan funds, it’s microcredit to start a business.” And every day on his way there, at the corner of Saint-Joseph and Caron streets, he passed what had been the Crack Grill-Cheese, which served tasty variations of the sandwich.

“I thought I could do that.”

During an orientation session, he floated the idea of ​​opening a restaurant. “I asked them, is this crazy? They told me maybe, you can try to make this dream come true, but you could also find a plan B. I went straight for the dream, no plan B! I redid my CV, I gave myself two weeks to explore the project.

Christian heard about a program for self-employed workers, made “a concrete business plan”, “dressed clean in old clothes from the hotel”. It worked. “I was accepted by the loan fund, I was followed throughout, it was fantastic!”

A small loan, $20,000.

We believed in him.

But there was still a long way to go from the lip sandwich. “I wanted to open in June [cette année]but it wasn’t easy to find a place. I looked at 3rd Avenue in Limoilou, on Saint-Joseph, but it was so expensive. I found this place in Trait-Carré, it was a former hairdressing salon. I liked the neighborhood, I redid my business plan, it worked.”

Then there was the paperwork, permits, GST and QST numbers. He had to convince an insurer to get his finances in order. “For five years I wasn’t doing well. When you live without tomorrow, you don’t worry about tomorrow. I had taxes to pay, debts. As for insurance, it was complete, I didn’t have a year of sobriety…”

In June, his sister Hélène, to whom he sought advice, died, almost a year to the day after his mother. “It was a strange time, it left a big void.” He pasted photos of the two women on the small wall near his work surface.

“They watch me work. They would be proud.”

Everything took a little longer than expected, including the rearrangement of the premises which he did almost alone. It was finally in November that he was able to welcome his first customers. “It’s not ideal to open in November, but the response is good. It’s a small restaurant, but it’s something huge for me.”

The name comes from a little girl he met. “She said to me ‘you should call it the little mouse, because mice like cheese.’ That’s the name I chose, it makes you smile.” His restaurant too. “I put happy colors, I want people to be happy. I like talking with people, it’s friendly, it’s a little moment of happiness.”

And to think that a year and a half ago, he wasn’t talking to anyone. “I made a new circle of friends. I also reconnected with old friends. I found a hobby that I had in the past, Magic cards, I found the friends with whom I played. That’s what it’s like to come back to life. It’s precious, I had lost everything.”

Every morning, he gets up in great shape. “I get up, I make my bed. I have lunch at the restaurant around 9am. I manage my products on a 48 hour cycle, everything is fresh and everything is local, that’s how I want to stand out. When it’s time to open, I turn on the light, I put my sign outside. I like it, I do everything happily.”

His restaurant is open six days a week, from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m., he does everything by himself, walks home, almost an hour’s walk away. “At the end of the day, I’m not tired.”

He no longer listens to the “little crosser” in his head. “That’s what we call the little voice that wants to encourage us to consume. When you’re in recovery, it stays there, I’ll always be an alcoholic. At the beginning, it was more difficult, I took it day by day. The question is: is it worth it? Oh yes!”

In front of the little mouse, the little crosser takes his hole.

To respond to this column, write to us at [email protected]. Some responses may be published in our Opinions section.