Esther Perel

I'm deeply saddened to hear of the passing of my esteemed colleague, Dr. Ruth Westheimer. I vividly recall the first time I encountered the spunky sex therapist with the exotic accent. I thought, “How wise! She is the myth-busting grandmother, the insightful foreigner who pierces the dark corners of another culture, and the refugee who has faced enough adversity to become fearless.“ To me, she was the woman who understood pain and loss, and who became the outspoken voice on the erotic.

Her influence extended beyond the realm of sex; she embodied aliveness, vibrancy, pleasure, and joy. That bold message resonated deeply with me. During my initial years in the United States, I was self-conscious about my accent and my identity as someone not “Made in America.“ How could I effectively communicate my views on U.S. social norms? Dr. Ruth showed me there was more than the conventional path.

She was a media sensation who used her platform to champion post-traumatic growth. She spoke to millions, challenging the social status quo around the nuclear family, LGBTQIA+, abortion, and AIDS. Listening to her, and identifying as a fellow European, as a child of parents directly affected by the Holocaust, and as a therapist, I gained the confidence to explore the intricacies of erotic desire myself. I never had grandparents, but I often thought that if I could choose the grandmother of my dreams, it would be Dr. Ruth.

When I was raising my two boys, I relied heavily on my friendships with older women who knew the ins and outs of what it took to be a mother in New York City. I was a foreigner without any family close by in a city where so many parents feel as if they have to go at it alone. And there was another factor, too. My relationship with my own mother was full of love but it was also full of ambivalence. I feared that if I called her with my parenting questions, she’d criticize me from across the ocean, in Belgium. I knew that I needed motherly mentorship beyond the perspective she could give me. The cliché is true: it takes a village to raise a child. But it also takes a village to raise a parent.

And so it was. My boys were raised by a host of family friends, chosen aunts and uncles. Seven families, from eight different countries of origin, morphed into a vibrant community. We were in it together, and it was a salve to the impinging loneliness one can feel as a parent.

Somehow my boys are now in their mid-late twenties. I currently have five friends who are twenty-five years younger than me who all have become mothers over the last decade. We’ve brought them into the fold. Babies at dinner parties, kids at adult gatherings who fall asleep on a pillow. I’ve relished talking to my young friends about pregnancy and motherhood, fielding their phone calls, meeting their little ones, and watching them grow. I love a front row seat with backstage experience.

I asked one of these friends, Erin if she could share a few thoughts with me about our dynamic for Mother’s Day:

“As I reflect on our intergenerational friendship and motherhood, what I appreciate most is the perspective of time. You get to look back, reflect on your parenting experience, and share lessons that are invaluable for what I'm going through right now; and I see in you the benefits of mothering in a way that is authentic to who I am and what I value.”

On this Mother’s Day, I’d love to hear about the motherly figures in your life who helped raise you, or are helping you raise your kids. I’d love to hear your stories of intergenerational friendship. I’ll look for yours in the comments.

For my birthday this year, I'm embracing something a little different. I'm choosing to celebrate the birthday of a dear friend, someone who is used to being behind the scenes, producing, organizing, and giving. But this time, I'm encouraging her to let go and allow herself to receive—something she’s yearned for but never quite allowed herself to experience.

Friendship is a unique love story, offering us community and continuity amidst life's changes. Friends accompany us through the trials and tribulations and we are a witness for them, commiserating or celebrating together over morning coffee, late-night phone calls or gatherings. ‍

We’ll be surrounded by friends spanning generations, from 40 to over 70 years old, with kids included, making this day truly special. It’s about finding joy in celebrating others and experiencing the beauty of giving without expectation. When you're not in the mood to celebrate yourself, sometimes the best gift is the act of celebrating someone else. Ella Marder

Polarity in couples can become quite an intense dynamic — especially on the big issues and decisions. As we each dig our heels in further, we actually reinforce the opposing viewpoint of our partner rather than create opportunity for alignment.

However, if we were making this big decision on our own: for example, as parents of 2 children, wondering if we should have another, part of us desiring another baby, a bigger family, and the other part feeling the pressure of such a responsibility. We would have inner conflict, likely even ambivalence about the decision. In partnership, we’re simply outsourcing the side of the argument we don’t want to hold—as our partner champions one side, we champion the other, we’ve externalized the conflict that we likely feel around the topic in order to ease ourselves of the inner conflict.

The problem is that the conflict then manifests in our relationship. One way to diffuse is to begin to consider and even argue the other side of the decision, allow yourself to feel and truly consider your partner’s side. Allow them to do the same. Recognize the parts of yourselves that are in conflict, to ease the tension between you and put you both on the same team to solve a tricky problem. That sets you up better for success and harmony in the connection.

Repair and reconnection is not a happy ending; it’s healing. And healing, as always, is not an instant switch but rather a process. We may find ourselves still fighting but it’s getting a little softer, more empathetic. The tension is laced with tenderness. Humor begins to creep through the seriousness.

The Gottmans call these little gestures “bids for connection”—“any attempt from one partner to another for attention, affirmation, affection, or any other positive connection…a smile or wink…[a] request for advice or help.”

In our Sessions conversation, John and Julie share how they became interested in the concept of repair, exploring statements and tactics a couple can use during a conflict to soften and begin to mend the interaction. Throughout our discussion, we return to this concept of repair and its importance in relationship longevity and success.

Visit my online training community, Sessions through the link in my bio to listen to the full interview and explore similar topics from the clinicians I speak with each month. The first two weeks of Sessions is free of charge inviting you to explore the community. I would love to know what you think.

https://bit.ly/3ZCjvAI

“Tell stories, not theories. Talk about people, not cases.” These were some of the key messages I learned from my mentor, Rich Simon, who died last month.

Rich, editor of Psychotherapy Networker and host of the publication’s eponymous conference, was my friend, colleague, and teacher. I wouldn’t be where I am without him. I wouldn’t have believed I could write without him. He encouraged me to put my ideas about love and desire on paper. He made me write eleven versions of the original article that eventually led to my first book, Mating in Captivity.

Rich saw things in me that I did not yet see in myself. He believed in me and inspired confidence when I had none. He helped counteract the ever-present critical voice (my mother’s) that lived in my head and permeated my sense of self and well-being. He reflected a kinder and more capable version of myself than I could produce on my own. It made all the difference in my life.

This month’s #LettersFromEsther is dedicated to my mentor, Rich Simon. Read the full letter here: https://lnkd.in/gNYi-iK

Over the last six months, my focus has been on the intricacies of conflict, specifically the diminishing capacity to manage it effectively, and how avoidance has become a prevalent response for many of us.

It can be challenging to distinguish between conflict that is productive, useful, and restorative and conflict that is destructive, useless, and harmful. Whether you or single or in a relationship, navigating conflict can be challenging.

However, it is possible to turn conflict into connection. It takes empathy and grace, hard work and learning new skills. And it takes a bit of bravery. To explore this topic further, read this month's newsletter through the link below.

https://bit.ly/45iIxro

I am a person who likes big, deep conversations. I like when dinner parties move to the couch and floor after dessert, and when running into a friend turns into going out for a meal. I like small talk as well, but always saw it as superficial and sometimes tedious. But in the last month, little conversations with cab drivers, baristas, and fellow diners have shown me otherwise. Until I had to live without them, I didn’t realize how much I would miss these daily interactions.

This month's #LettersFromEsther is all about Small Talk. If you missed it, click the link below to read the newsletter in full. And to go deeper with this topic, join me on YouTube on June 16th at 3PM for our monthly live workshop.

When my parents would visit me in New York, they would go to Washington Square Park and sit on a bench until they heard someone speaking a language they understood, usually French. They could get lost for hours asking New Yorkers who had emigrated from Paris or Quebec or Haiti or Senegal about what they liked to do in the neighborhood. My parents would tell them about their daughter who immigrated to the states and ask why they had moved, and if they had kids. They’d come home ready to test out their new restaurant recommendations and I’d wonder how they had any energy left after that much small talk in one day.

Even when small talk is inconsequential, there’s something nice about two very different strangers finding instant commonalities, expressing curiosity, tilting their biases, and being jolted out of their preconceptions. And when done well, small talk is a kind of platonic flirting. It becomes a part of eroticism—that elixir of aliveness and spontaneity that makes life so rich. My parents were living proof that small talk is a bridge to others.

To read this month's newsletter on Small Talk, visit https://lnkd.in/gbxndti. And to dive even deeper, join me Wednesday, June 16th at 3 PM ET for our monthly workshop on YouTube and Facebook. #LettersFromEsther