NEW! I’ve created an exciting new offer designed to help business owners, managers, and team leaders elevate workplace connection and improve team dynamics.

Join the waitlist to be the first to know when it becomes available.

Shall We Begin?

Recently, I spent two days with 600 of my colleagues—therapists, coaches, healers, educators. We had gathered for Sessions Live, my annual conference, with another 2,000 joining us virtually. This is my professional world. These are my people. And like so many of you returning to in-person work, I wasn’t sure what it would feel like to be back in a shared physical space.

What struck me most wasn’t just the brilliance in the room. It was the vulnerability. The weariness. The courage to keep showing up for others even when we feel like we’re running on empty. And it wasn’t just about the work we do with clients. It was about the work we do with each other. The work between us.

That phrase—the work between us—has been on my mind a lot lately. Especially when it comes to . . . well, work.

WORKING IT OUT

We are living through a profound rupture in how we relate to work and the people with whom we work. People are burned out. Laid off. Asked to return to offices that don’t feel safe or inspiring. Others are craving reconnection but feel out of practice, unsure how to relate face-to-face again. I’ve heard from managers who feel as if they are expected to be therapists. And I’ve heard from employees who feel as if they are expected to self-actualize while hitting KPIs.

In short: it’s confusing. It’s tender. And it’s very, very human.

Underneath the performance reviews and productivity tools, what we’re really talking about are relationships.

• Do I trust you?
• Do I feel seen?
• Do I matter here?
• Will you be there when things get hard?

These questions aren’t soft. They are structural. They shape everything.

I’ve always said that the quality of our relationships determines the quality of our lives. But I also believe this: the quality of our relationships at work determines the quality of our work—and our capacity to stay, to care, to thrive.

REAL TALK

So, what helps? Sometimes it’s big new HR initiatives. Rarely is it slogans about culture. What helps are moments. Stories. Absconding for coffees or a walk around the block. Asking how your colleague would like to be supported during a difficult time. What helps are real conversations that puncture the performative and make space for the real.

At Sessions Live, I watched it happen. A long table. A circle of chairs. A question. A pause. And then, a story, from one therapist to another, united by a shared desire to grow in their chosen profession. Therapist or analyst or first responder or marketer: who we are at work is intrinsically tied to who we are in the world.

Even now—even here—we can still choose to show up. To listen. To go first. To begin again. Because despite everything, people are still trying. Still longing for something more real. And that longing? That’s where the work begins.

Let’s Turn the Lens on You

Don’t know where to start? Try one of these prompts to inspire deeper conversations with colleagues old and new.

• The feedback I wish I had heard sooner in my career . . .
• An idea/approach I would love to try . . .
• The part of my job that I’m the most proud to talk about . . .
• The last hard decision I felt surprisingly good about . . .
• My go-to emoji instead of using words . . .
• I’ll never forget my manager who . . .
• The skill I wish I got to use more . . .

More From Esther

TRANSFORM YOUR WORK CULTURE | join the waitlist

I believe that the quality of our relationships at work determines the quality of our work. That’s why I’ve created a new product designed to help business owners, managers, and team leaders elevate workplace connection and improve team dynamics.

If you’re ready to transform your work culture, join the waitlist to be the first to know when this new offer becomes available.

SESSIONS LIVE 2025: MATING IN THE METACRISIS | watch the replay

The live event may be over, but you can still be part of this transformative experience for a limited time. Register today to get on-demand access and discover:

• A complete archive of recordings
• Exclusive discounts from event partners, plus 10% off my books, courses, and card game
• Additional resources to go even deeper
  
• Unique networking opportunities

You’ll find all this and more inside the Sessions Live app—but only for a limited time. Register now to get started.

EROTIC INTELLIGENCE: CULTIVATING DESIRE AND ALIVENESS IN YOUR RELATIONSHIPS | learn more

On October 8–13, 2025, amidst the wonders of Paros, Greece, my expert guest facilitators and I will share fresh perspectives and actionable tools to help you go deeper into the work, expand your erotic intelligence, and experience new erotic breakthroughs—with or without a partner.

Click here to learn more and reserve your spot.

Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information

TO WATCH:

• Ada: My Mother the Architect—With intimacy and reverence, filmmaker and former architect Yael Melamede invites us into a layered portrait of her mother, Ada Karmi-Melamede. This is not only the story of a pioneering architect who gave physical form to a nation's ideals—it is the story of a mother and a daughter, of ambition and sacrifice, and of the quiet costs behind a celebrated career.

TO WEAR:

• I had the pleasure of wearing Fleur du Mal for a special dinner at Sessions Live—as did my guests who, at one point in the evening, wore Fleur du Mal’s luxurious black blindfolds. Known for designs that celebrate the erotic, the elegant, and the unapologetically bold, Fleur du Mal was the perfect partner for an evening that asked us to taste with our hands, listen with our bodies, and savor every feeling.

TO EXPERIENCE:

Sessions Live wouldn’t have been possible without the generous support of our other visionary sponsors, each bringing their own kind of magic:

• Black Therapists Rock, for grounding us in healing, representation, and community.
• Maude, for elevating modern intimacy with warmth and elegance.
  
• Foria, for their plant-powered devotion to sensual wellness.
• Dame, for reimagining pleasure with design and intention.
  
• London Nootropics, for fueling our brains and bodies.
  
• Tea & Tonic, for creating moments of radiant calm for us.
  
• Kin Euphorics, for bringing us spirited connection—no spirits required.
  
• Doladira, whose alpine apéritif brought an après-ski vibe to our special dinner.
  
• Psychotherapy Networker, for anchoring our field with insight, depth, and dialogue.

To each of you: Thank you for helping us create something that wasn’t just a gathering—but a true experience.

Early bird tickets for my upcoming clinical conference have sold out, but you can still join me for this transformative two-day event when you register for a Standard ticket. Tickets are limited.

Register for Sessions Live 2025: Mating in the Metacrisis today.

Shall We Begin?

If it feels harder than ever to connect to others, you are not imagining things.

We are living through a “metacrisis”—a convergence of social, political, technological, and economic upheavals that have fundamentally altered the way we process the world around us as well as how we relate to one another.

LONELINESS & THE METACRISIS

Loneliness is at an all-time high, with Americans spending 99 more minutes alone each day than we did two decades ago.

Digital tools, once designed to connect us, now mediate nearly every aspect of our lives, replacing presence with convenience and spontaneity with predictability.

Dating, once a social experience shaped by mutual discovery, has become an exercise in efficiency, what sociologist Eva Illouz calls “romantic consumerism”—an endless optimization game that often reduces us to commodities, swiped and sorted by algorithms.

The metacrisis amplifies these effects, with the constant background noise of societal instability making it even harder to trust, to risk, to hope. The questions we ask ourselves have taken on a survivalist tilt, not just “Can I see a future with this person?” but also “Do I want to navigate the apocalypse with them?”

WHAT IF WE’RE NOT AS ALONE AS WE FEEL?

While these experiences and feelings are real, there is a fallacy underlying many of our biggest fears around finding connection in a disconnected world.

Though it may feel like the apocalypse . . . What if it’s not? What if this period of global instability, climate crisis, and more is not the actual end of the world? What if friendship and falling in love, despite it all, is still worth it? What if connection is what helps us survive these rapidly shifting times?

Amid the chaos of the metacrisis, our longing for each other remains unwavering. It is precisely in this challenging terrain that the opportunity for deep, meaningful connection arises—not despite the difficulty, but because of it.

Consider the following:

• Human connection is not dependent on an internet connection.
• Connection is not a transaction; it’s a vibrational field we can tap into on a daily basis in the most mundane of circumstances.
• Practicing small acts of connection with family, friends, colleagues, classmates, and perfect strangers is the key to building back the social muscles we need to navigate crises.
• These social muscles are the same ones that help us reconnect with long lost friends, cool the heat of conflict, maintain our curiosity about those who are different from us, and invite someone on a date (even the partner you already have).
  

This mindset is essential for discovering that we are not as alone as we feel; that we are not beholden to the social systems and software draining our life force.

SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL INTERACTIONS CREATE JOY.

Journalist Derek Thompson, in a recent interview with Nicholas Epley, a professor of behavioral science at the University of Chicago, confirmed that we consistently underestimate the joy we experience from spontaneous social interactions. Talking to a stranger on the train, making eye contact with a person in a café, engaging in conversation at the bookstore—these small moments shift our perception of the world and our place within it.

The loneliness we feel is a product of a culture that excessively focuses on the self. But it’s also a consequence of the ways we’ve learned to guard ourselves from discomfort and vulnerability.

Connection and community save us. Let’s practice it, not as a rare event but as an ongoing practice of engagement. Even for the most introverted among us—perhaps especially so—our well-being is dependent on the small, bold act of saying hello.

Let’s Turn the Lens on You

Try the following simple exercise inspired by Nicholas Epley’s research:

1. Start one conversation with someone you don’t usually speak to—a barista, a fellow commuter, a neighbor, or even a stranger in line.
2. Keep it simple. A warm greeting, a lighthearted comment, or a genuine question is all it takes. (Easy mode: “I like your sweater.” A level up: “What’s been the highlight of your day?”)
3. Observe the impact. How did you feel after the interaction? Did the other person respond positively? Did your mood shift? Consider writing down or recording a voice memo, just for yourself, about the experience.
4. If you like the exercise, keep going. Consider making it a daily or weekly practice.

More From Esther

SESSIONS LIVE 2025: MATING IN THE METACRISIS | learn more

If you are a therapist, coach, or other relationship professional interested in diving deeper into these themes, I invite you to join me on April 25–26 for my eighth annual clinical conference, Sessions Live 2025: Mating in the Metacrisis.

Together during this two-day event, we’ll explore our roles as essential guides in a rapidly shifting world and work to answer the big questions, like:

• What does it mean to cultivate true connection in a world of increasing isolation and division?
• How do we create space for agency and aliveness amidst rising uncertainty?
  
• What helps combat social atrophy and burnout?
  
• How do we help our clients confront these challenges when we, too, are experiencing them?
  

This year’s two-day event features high-profile guests and speakers, interactive talks and workshops, and immersive experiences designed to activate your senses and help you cultivate true connection—with yourself and your clients.

Limited in-person and virtual tickets are available. Register today to reserve your spot.

Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information

TO EXPERIENCE:

• Listen to the episode of Plain English with Derek Thompsonmentioned in this newsletter, “‘The Anti-Social Century’: America’s Epidemic of Solitude—and How to Fix It,” featuring professor Nicholas Epley.
• Chen Lizra’s Somatic Healing Program is a 10-week live online training program to release trauma, heal emotional wounds, and awaken your body’s innate wisdom. The program begins on February 25. Sign up now to secure your spot.
  

TO READ:

• Sophie Scott’s new book, You Are Not Alone In This: Supporting a Loved One's Mental Health Without Losing Your Own, offers a lifeline to those who love someone struggling with mental illness. Blending personal insight, client stories, and therapeutic wisdom, she illuminates the delicate balance between offering support and preserving one’s own well-being—reminding us that care and boundaries are not contradictions, but companions.
• Through the prism of his own family’s silences, Rich Benjamin’s new book, Talk to Me, is a deeply personal meditation on the cost of unspoken histories. The intergenerational echoes of exile, identity, and belonging reveal how the stories we don’t tell shape us just as much as the ones we do. It’s a profound exploration of the spaces between us and the courage it takes to bridge them.
• Lisa A. Phillips’s First Love: Guiding Teens Through Relationships and Heartbreak is a compassionate guide for teens and the adults who support them, offering sharp insights on navigating relationships in today’s world. With a focus on technology, identity, and consent, Phillips equips readers with tools to foster resilience and self-awareness through love and heartbreak.

Shall We Begin?

‍“Leisure, freedom, exemption, free from duty, immunity earned by service.”

These are the words associated with “vacation” according to the Online Etymology Dictionary. Vacation allows us to “be empty, at leisure, to leave, abandon.” From the Latin word “vacare,” it means “to be unoccupied.”

I am rarely unoccupied. I actually find it a very difficult state to achieve. 

I’m an associative thinker, which means I usually have several lines of thought going at once. I’m a psychotherapist with an active practice, which means I have constant responsibility to my patients regarding the most personal dimensions of their lives. I’m a wife and a mother and, I’ll admit it, a worrier on both of these fronts, particularly as my husband heals from a recent major surgery. I have a small business which, likewise, requires a great deal of attention and care, especially as we grow. And I have my community: all of you. 

So when I set out to take a “real vacation” this summer, I made an intention to reconnect with my sense of play. I planned to write about it in this very letter to you, after all, “play” is one of my favorite topics. Play is the infinite testing ground for creativity. It allows us to safely take risks, learn new skills, and connect with ourselves and others. But, at this moment, I’m not feeling connected to the topic. And I feel a bit guilty for that lack of connection.

My vacation took me on a boat through the Greek islands with a few close friends. We played. But I found myself plagued by a sense of distance, not the kind that comes with traveling far from home, but the kind in which you feel distant from yourself. Even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home. 

Moreover, there was a crisis unfolding before us: Greece was—and continues to be—experiencing what has become an all too common tragedy across the globe. It’s on fire. Through binoculars, I could see it off in the distance. Slightly closer, a vessel of migrants seeking safety was being towed to shore. 

No matter where you go, vacation always comes with a choice: do you want to stay connected to the world and its realities or do you want to disconnect and simply be present where you are? When the place you’ve gone to vacation is in crisis, however, those two options merge and a new choice must be made. Do I try to help? Do I pack up and go home? Home, I soon found out, was also choking—on the haze drifting south from the Canadian wildfires. 

The boat became a liminal space, a vessel between burning continents. My mind was in between states, too. I’d be lounging carefree and suddenly a jolt of worry would envelop me. We were told there wasn’t much we could do to help, just to try to relax. But I didn’t know how. 

In my American life, I often find myself having to justify taking vacation, especially when it’s longer than a week. In my European life, it’s a sin to work during the entire month of August. When I booked this trip, I said to myself, “come on, Perel. Even God rested on the seventh day, no justification needed.” But how can one rest at a time like this? 

Movement has always helped me calm down. I decided to swim to shore with a friend. The water was rough but, focused on my breath, my mind finally went to rest. As we approached the sand, I could see locals all along the beach, playing underneath an orange sky. There were picnics of watermelon and feta, sun shades covering napping babies, children playing with balls. It wasn’t apathy for the fires. It was survival—which brings me back to the topic I’ve been avoiding: play. 

When crisis is all around us, rest and play can feel self-indulgent, but both are essential ingredients of our life force, what I call “Eroticism.” It may sound trivial or even offensive in this context, but please bear with me as I work through this thought: I believe that staying connected to that life force prepares us to handle the very things we need a break from—whether it’s the crises of home or work or our planet—so we can come back to these fights replenished and a little stronger. I stayed on that beach for as long as I could before heading back to the boat. 

Let’s Turn the Lens on You 

• How do you unwind? 
• What has your culture taught you about taking a break? Is it judged or encouraged?
• Do breaks carry intrinsic value to you or are they seen as a gap between two tasks? 
• Do you prefer to vacation solo, with friends or family, or with a group of strangers? 
• What is the best vacation you’ve ever taken and why? 
• What have you learned about yourself from taking breaks? 
• What is the next vacation you’d love to take? 

More From Esther

“Am I being gaslit by my partner?” / a recent article‍

Last month, we relaunched “Where Should We Begin?” as “always on” with the Vox Media Podcast Network. That means more episodes, more relational journeys to listen in on, and bonus content for those who subscribe for a small monthly fee—including conversations with luminaries from the arts, entertainment, psychotherapy, and beyond. Read on for the behind-the-scenes story of the new episode “Am I being gaslit by my partner?”

‍Eroticism in Hard Times / a newsletter

Eroticism is what makes life itself worth living. When times are good, Eroticism is what converts the mundane into magic. When times are tough, Eroticism is what inspires us to survive—and even to thrive—despite all odds. It is why we make art and music and go into nature when we are in pain.

The Importance of Play / an article

Just like sex, playing as adults is about pleasure, connection, creativity, fantasy—all the juicy parts of life we savor. Play is the pleasure of being inventive, mischievous, imaginative, and trying something new. Why do we play? Because it helps us grow—and because it’s fun. 

Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information

I’m Reading:

• There is only one book on my nightstand this month: “Outrage Machine: How Tech Amplifies Discontent, Disrupts Democracy—And What We Can Do About It” by Tobias Rose-Stockwell. The rigor, research, and depth of Tobias’s book is unparalleled and yet it is refreshingly accessible. I’ve been recommending it to everyone, not just those interested in technology. 

I’m Watching: 

• Past Lives, a new film by Celine Song
• The Flat, a documentary by Arnon Goldfinger
• I Heart Huckabees, a film by David O. Russell

Shall We Begin?

We are taught from a young age to express ourselves. Through new words, crayon drawings, and make believe, we discover ourselves and the world around us. We show the adults in our lives who we are before we even know. We develop a personality, an identity, a reputation. We make friends. We change friends. In the best circumstances, we feel that we belong to a community. Your small town. Your swim team. Your church.

We learn about ourselves in those contexts. Each group comes with an oft unspoken social code about what is acceptable: what kind of jokes you can make, what sort of touch or play is okay, which dreams you can share. The parts of us that don’t fit get relegated to a dark corner inside of us. Most of us don’t learn for years what’s in that corner. We have a sense of it. But we don’t dare investigate.

I think we can all relate to that lonely experience. Despite how alone we may feel, this is one of the most universal experiences in the world—particularly if the part you are hiding is that you are not straight or cis. This brutal irony is what so many LGBTIQA+ people live with from a young age. If you’re reading this and seeing yourself, then you intimately know the shame and fear that comes from the threat of being excluded or excommunicated from the very groups that mean so much to you, whether it’s your family, friend group, or religious institution.

But perhaps you also know this experience: the day you made a choice to look in the dark corner. Perhaps, you know the experience of eventually finding the parts of yourself that were aching to meet you, be loved by you, and to be seen and embraced by others. Or, perhaps you are still waiting for this, wondering if this experience can ever be yours. Despite the proliferation of Pride celebrations worldwide, many of us don’t come from places that are ready to embrace us in our fullness. But that, too, is a universal experience.

I’ve witnessed and studied many powerful examples of human connection. But there is one that I return to time and time again to illustrate why friendship is just as important as romantic partnership or familial ties. During the AIDS epidemic, it was friends who accompanied the sick and dying. It was friends who negotiated on your behalf with the hospital and a legal system that didn’t recognize you. It was friends who planned what would happen to your art, your belongings, and your body. Friends buried friends. Parents discovered their kids were gay after they died.

Friends grieved the insurmountable losses together, in community, and they rebuilt in community, too. After a very long time, as the worst of the epidemic began to subside in New York, I would walk by the NYU call center and see many gay couples meeting up in the little nearby park. This was the place where you got all the information on adoption from China. It’s where I learned about the concept of “family of choice” outside of my own context (foreigners befriending foreigners in their shared new home). In that little park, I saw uncles and aunties and babies and kids from all ethnic and racial backgrounds: a constellation of care. Today, organizations such as the Chosen Family Law Center, are working to codify that care by “building the legal framework to support dignity and justice for all family types.”

You see, there is no hierarchy of “types” of relationships. IN THE WORLD I ASPIRE TO friends can become family. Lovers can become friends. And even family—the one you came from, the one you never thought might be able to love you in your complexities—can come to understand that you’re no less a person, no less lovable, because of who you love. And if that never happens, if they never come around, know there is a family of choice waiting for you.

Let’s Turn the Lens on You

• Map your constellation of care.
• Who matters in your life today and how has it changed?
• Who is there for you?
• For whom are you there?
• What three words describe your expectations of close friendship?
• What are the special gifts you bring to your friendships?
• What do you feel you could do better?
• If you felt you could ask for more from a friend, what would you ask for?
• What holds you back from asking?

More From Esther

The Question that Comes Up in All New Adult Friendships / a recent newsletter

Making new friends is one of the most satisfying, exciting experiences we can have. But every new friendship brings with it a series of questions: how much of myself can I share? How much vulnerability is too much? Read on to learn more.

My Chosen Family / a newsletter

Long lasting friendships bring the many parts of us into alignment, grounding us in continuity. Old friends remind each other of who we were then and how much we’ve grown. We’ve been there for each other in excitement and boredom, in celebration and tragedy. Read on to learn about my own chosen family, a group of friends I’ve had for thirty years.

Letters From Esther #27: Friendship / a newsletter

Different from romantic or filial love, friendship is its own unique love story. Making friends is the first free choice relationship we have as kids. Our friends provide community and continuity in an ever-changing world.

Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information.

Resources:

• The Chosen Family Law Center, a nonprofit corporation dedicated to cultivating equitable social and legal recognition of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual,Transgender, Queer, Intersex, and Asexual (LGBTQIA) and polyamorous families and individuals.
• The Marsha P. Johnson Institute protects and defends the human rights of Black transgender people.
• As the world’s first HIV/AIDS service organization, GMHC is working to end the AIDS epidemic and uplift the lives of all affected.

I’m Watching:

• Diana Adams’s TED Talk about why US laws must expand beyond the nuclear family
• Reshma Saujani’s commencement speech at Smith College about overcoming “Imposter Syndrome”

I’m Reading:

• “How the Pride March Made History,” an oral history of the first march by David Kaufman. (The New York Times)
• “Those We Lost to the AIDS Epidemic” by Thessaly La Force (T Magazine)
• “Sasha Velour’s ‘The Look of Pride'" by Françoise Mouly (The New Yorker)
• “What Is Pride Month and the History of Pride?” (Them)

Shall We Begin?

What does repair look like in relationships? 

My dear friends Jenna and Ryan are whip-smart, hilarious, and fun to be around… except for one thing. They bicker constantly. They do it at holidays, social gatherings, and weekend getaways with friends. You would think having a therapist in their orbit would mean that they’ve consulted me about this dynamic. They haven’t. And perhaps they don’t need to. Because, despite their arguments, they’ve been together for decades, love each other very much, value each others’ opinions, and genuinely enjoy spending time together. Simply put, it works. Why?‍

There’s a comedic trope in sitcoms about the married couple always yelling at each other—think Jerry Stiller and Estelle Harris in Seinfeld or Doris Roberts and Peter Boyle in Everybody Loves Raymond. I don’t watch much television, but I recognize the dynamics of these characters instantly. Bickering is their primary mode of communication and yet, they are the dynamic duo, rarely seen on screen without one another. They’re inseparable. In their own unique way, they get along. ‍

In just one episode, we see these characters go through the cycle of “connection, disconnection, and reconnection” no less than five times. It’s all exaggerated, of course, but there’s some fundamental learnings we can take from this. ‍

The cycle of connection, disconnection, and reconnection exists in every relationship. Terry Real calls it “harmony, disharmony, and repair” or “closeness, disruption, and a return to closeness.” We know what’s meant when we read or hear those words. But, in real life, how can we tell where fighting ends and making up begins?

It’s easy to recognize when we’re deep in connection. We don’t have to think about it much, just feel it all over, like sunlight and gentle breeze. Communication is smooth. Disagreements are cushioned with humor. We desire to be around each other and we feel confident when we’re apart. ‍

Likewise, we know when we’re disconnected. Whether it's an explosion or a cold war, the dysfunction screams at us. It’s what brings people over the threshold and into my therapy office, claiming the desire to communicate better. What they mean is that they want to reconnect. Repair and reconnection is not a happy ending; it’s healing. And healing, as always, is not an instant switch. 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.‍

What I like so much about the constantly-bickering couple—of my real life as well as the ones on T.V.—are the little moments of intimacy that, if you weren’t paying attention, you might not notice. They haven’t spoken in a few hours, but she’s on the phone making sure his prescription is refilled. She criticizes his politics then asks him what he thought of the article they read together this weekend. He’s annoyed with her, but he makes her a cup of tea. 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.” ‍

They say bids for connection are about “turning toward instead of away.” To me, this is when we know our relationship is coming back together even if we’re still bickering. From the outside, seesawing partners easily look chaotic, but maybe they're just embracing the inherent mess of intimacy. Their reactivity doesn't mean they don’t care; actually, it often means they care a lot. 

‍Let’s Turn the Lens on You 

• What kind of a fighter are you? Do you use words, silence, gestures, withdrawal?
• How do you like to make up? 
• Do you take initiatives in making up or do you wait for the other to initiate?
• How would you describe your experience of apologizing?
• How do you know when you’re done fighting? 

More From Esther‍

‍Owning Your Part: Self-Accountability in Relationships / a recent article

Relationship dynamics go beyond the binary of perpetrator and victim, betrayed and betrayer—the accountant and the accountable. Recognizing that all parties are a piece of the pie does not mean that everyone’s slice is the same size and made up of the same ingredients. But owning your part is essential to breaking through impasses. 

‍Would You Rather be Right or be Married? / a newsletter

I don't often use clichés in couples therapy, but this one is a go-to. It is often the most direct question I can ask a feuding couple who is stuck in a standoff. Read last month’s letter to go deeper.

‍“The Myth of Unconditional Love in Romantic Relationships” / an article

It might actually be a necessity to allow ourselves to really, really not like the person we love sometimes. Perhaps the highest form of love isn’t unconditional. Maybe it’s closer to Terry Real’s description of self-esteem: our ability to see ourselves as flawed and still hold ourselves in high regard. Can we do that for our relationships, too?

Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information       

I’m Reading:

• The Candy House, a new book by Jennifer Egan
• The Anxious Achiever, a new book by Morra Aarons-Mele
• Trust, a new book by Hernan Diaz 

I’m Watching: 

• Women Talking, a film Sarah Polley
• The Insult, a film by Ziad Doueiri 
• Parade, a musical written by Robert Brown and Alfred Uhry, directed by Michael Arden
• Love, a play ​​written and directed by Alexander Zeldin

Shall We Begin?

“The last time I felt free was when I sang without worrying if I sang well.

The last time I felt free was when I lost track of time. 

The last time I felt free was when I didn’t have to take care of anyone or be responsible. 

The last time I felt free was when I knew where the night began, but not where it would end. 

The last time I felt free is when I actively engaged with the unknown, voluntarily, in a playful way.

The last time I felt free is when no one else’s opinion mattered more than my own.”

Last week, I was playing my card game with a friend and these were my answers to the prompt card I drew: “The Last Time I Felt Free...” I ran my thumb across the delicate blue letters on the familiar tan card, looked up, and asked him, “what is it for you?” ‍

“When I went diving in the Red Sea,” he said. 

‍“What makes that a feeling of freedom for you?” I asked. 

“I feel playful, unrestrained, unbounded. I feel at one with the underworld of the sea.”

This card is one of my favorites, not only because of the range of answers it inspires but because of the variety of interpretations. It’s because that word—“Freedom”—means so many different things to different people.

Do you define freedom as: 

• from something or freedom to something? 
• a sense of peace?
• unrestrained, flowing without boundaries or limits, and unbridled? 
• a sense of intense focus, unencumbered by intrusion? 
• an unalienable right to something?
• the outcome of when you get something you are fighting for?

I have asked this question all over the world. The feeling of freedom tends to align. Perhaps ironically, the word “surrender” comes up a lot: we feel free when we can surrender into ourselves, into an experience, into each other. But the ways we attain that feeling differ so much based on our circumstances. In many places I have traveled, the answers have to do with dancing. 

When I asked a friend overloaded with work and childcare, her answer was “when I went hiking by myself.” It’s not the hiking; it’s the fact that when she’s alone, she doesn’t have to answer to anyone. Another person answered “in BDSM experiences with a trusted partner.” Another said “at least a decade ago, when I didn’t feel like I was being spied on by my phone.” And another: “when I went to the country my parents are from, where people looked like me; for the first time, I wasn’t constantly aware of the gaze of others.” I’ll never forget the answer of a person who had been forced to flee their home and leave everything behind: “when I could sit in my kitchen and choose coffee or tea.” For some of us, freedom is being able to leave home. For others, freedom is being able to return home or create a new one. Our relationship to freedom is as complex as our relationships to self, to family, to culture, to government, and to history. ‍

‍So many of the answers I’ve heard about freedom have had to do with daring, going beyond a threshold, but there’s always a secondary experience of safety. We feel free when we can let go because we know there’s someone else who can receive us. We feel free when we can climb to the top of the rock wall because we know the rope will catch us. We feel free when we can cry or laugh aloud without judgment. Freedom involves fighting, rebellion. We feel free when we decide how we want to live and how we want to die. We all need freedom and security, which is why when the world doesn’t feel safe, we often don’t feel as free.‍

‍I’m curious about how you make your own moments of freedom. When I posed this question to my online community, the answers flooded in. Some of your experiences of freedom were beautiful in their simplicity: when you and your friend made dinner together, chatted about life, relationships, politics, shoe sizes, and untangled jewelry and ran on the grass until you fell into open belly laughter. And I thought to myself: that’s it. That’s the feeling. ‍

‍But another one of your responses stuck with me, too: “I feel free when the idea of freedom leaves me. I feel neither free nor unfree when I see how much imagery, claims—made and given—lie in these words. And suddenly freedom appears in the crowded subway.”

‍Let’s Turn the Lens on You 

Finding small moments of freedom.

• Answer the prompt: “the last time I felt free…”
• Recall that feeling or experience in as much detail as you can. 
• Write it down. 
• What are three defining emotions you associate with your experience of freedom?
• What thoughts and activities do you associate with those emotions? 
• Can you do one of those activities this week? 

‍More From Esther‍

‍“How Are You?” / a recent newsletter

In response to tragedy after tragedy, many of us are cycling through fight, flight, and freeze responses faster than we can finish a cup of coffee. In this letter, we take a moment to acknowledge some of these challenges and what we can do in the face of empathic exhaustion. 

‍“Eroticism in Hard Times” / a newsletter

​​When times are tough, Eroticism is what inspires us to survive—and even to thrive—despite all odds.

‍“How Erotic Thinking Helps Emotional Connection” / a blog

Creativity is where Eroticism lives. Powered by curiosity, intuition, and the energy of imagination, creativity invites us into the unknown. And Eroticism is about bringing adventure back into play.

​​Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information       

‍I’m Reading & Listening To:

• Leading with Heart, a new book by Edward Sullivan & John Baird
• “How to Teach Our Children Emotional Resilience,” Dr. Becky Kennedy on the Sharon Says So podcast
• “Tristan Harris: saying ‘I love you’ to a chatbot,” on the The Disrupted Workforce podcast
• “The Mystifying Rise of Child Suicide,” by Andrew Solomon (The New Yorker)

Resources for Safe Abortion: 

• Abortion Resource Database
• Planned Parenthood
• National Abortion Federation
• The National Network of Abortion Funds [list by state]
• Plan C
• Abortion Finder
• Learn More About Abortion Laws In Your State [State Guide]

Resources for Gun Violence Awareness:

• Brady - United Against Gun Violence 
• Everytown for Gun Safety
• Giffords
• March For Our Lives
• States United to Prevent Gun Violence
• Disaster Distress Hotline
• Crisis Text Line

Resources for Ukraine: 

• OneUkraine
• Slava Ukraini
• International Rescue Committee 
• Help for Internal Refugees 
• Life-Saving Equipment 
• Ukrainian Women Veterans Movement
• Hospitallers Working on the Frontline
• NGO for Traumatized Children
• Help for Nigerians Fleeing Ukraine
• National Bank for Ukraine Fund

Shall We Begin?‍

As you can imagine, people frequently tell me about their sex life, not just in my therapy office, but on the street. Just as often, they tell me of their sex-less life. Time and time again, I’m told about unintentional celibacy—from the married couple in a rut to the young dater who, frustrated by bad sex, has chosen to give it up altogether…for now. The lack of sex can be anxiety-inducing. I am often asked: is this normal? How often should we be having sex? Will it ever change? Are we not right for each other? Am I doing it wrong? Do I have a hormonal deficiency? What is asexuality? How do I fix this?‍

Innovative prescriptions abound, from Viagra and sex therapy to tantric workshops and psychedelic ceremonies—to the unvarnished direct advice of just do it. I loathe that particular piece of advice. Sure, we can just “do it” but will we feel anything? Will we connect? Will it be anti-climactic? What if we can’t just “do it”? What if physical or psychological challenges prevent us from engaging in the pleasure and connection we want to experience most? ‍

When we reduce sex to a function, we also imply dysfunction. We are no longer talking about the art of sex; we are talking about the mechanics of sex. In my experience, placing a premium on performance often makes the problems worse—and it misses the most important factor of what actually makes us feel good: the erotic. Eroticism is an art. But it’s also a practice. And when we’re out of practice, even taking the first step—simply granting ourself permission to explore the pleasurable dimension of life—can feel daunting, especially when it involves another person. 

More often than not, the beauty and flow of a sexual encounter unfurl in a safe, noncompetitive, and non-result-oriented atmosphere, a place in which we can feel present, alive, and curious. And yet, when we’re stuck in a cycle of sexlessness, all we can think about are numbers, whether its frequency or time. We only did it once last month. We haven’t done it in a year. It only lasted two minutes. Sensuality simply doesn’t lend itself to the rigors of scorekeeping. Some of us can’t bear to bring it up with our partners in conversation. Others can’t stop talking about it. Spoiler alert: no one has ever had more sex by talking about how much sex they are not having.

If the first step of getting out of a rut is giving yourself permission to explore the erotic, the second step is really committing to giving up the numbers game. It’s not about increasing frequency, it’s about creating a new vibe. And, contrary to popular belief, erotic practice doesn’t begin in the bedroom. Eroticism can come from the welcome touch of your lover or it can come from noticing how late summer rain feels on your skin and inviting your lover outside to experience it with you.

Eroticism is trying new things, going new places, making new friends. It’s also remembering the ancient things you’ve long forgotten. I love to ask couples: do you have a song for your relationship? It may be their wedding song or the song that was playing when they met. Recently, one partner told me “You Send Me,” by Sam Cooke. The other said “My Baby Just Cares for Me” by Nina Simone. We played both. I wanted to bring in something more evocative and poetic—something that could get us away from numbers and words and into experiencing.‍

From there, our conversation opened up: what do you enjoy doing together? Where do you find energy? What is something beautiful you notice today about your partner? Tell them. I can tell you, when it comes to feeling good, half of it happens between our legs; the other half happens between our ears. This is erotic practice. It’s a practice of exploration, curiosity, connection—not just physically, but energetically, emotionally, and psychologically. The more we engage in eroticism outside of the bedroom, the more the bedroom becomes simply another location for eroticism to take place. Sex isn’t just something we do; it’s a place we go—inside ourselves or with another.

‍Let’s Turn the Lens on You 

Questions for Erotic Practice

• What is erotic for you? 
• What is an erotic experience you had that was not sexual?
• When do you feel most free?
• Do you prefer hot or cold water and where on your body do you like to feel it?
• Do you prefer giving or receiving? Why?
• What sense guides your erotic experiences the most? Visual, auditory, tactile, etc.?
• What parts of yourself do you connect with in sex? The rebel? The caregiver? The dominant? The submissive? 
• Where do you go in sex? A place of abandon? To feel safely powerful? To transcend? To commune? A place where you can be mischievous? 

More From Esther‍

‍“Finding Freedom in What Feels Good” / a blog article

It’s a common misconception that foreplay is just checking off the boxes and putting parts in motion to get us ready for sex and orgasms. Through this lens, foreplay is just not that interesting—at best—and full of pressure at worst. In this blog, we adjust the lens and embrace foreplay as the freedom to experience what feels good, for no other goal than pure pleasure—from a quick warmup to lasting erotic energy.

‍“How to Introduce Role Play Ideas To Your Partner” / a blog article

Role play is so much more than elaborate accouterment and a cheesy script. It’s about tapping into your erotic mind and temporarily transforming yourself and the environment around you to give new life to your desires and connection.

‍“Why Eroticism Should Be Part of your Self-Care Plan” / a blog article

Eroticism blooms from the tension between excitation and inhibition and manifests in the things we say and do, by how we act, and by how we think. We tend to think of eroticism as a sexual state shared by two or more people, but really, it starts with the individual. And it requires practice. ​​

‍Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information

‍I’m Reading & Listening To:

• “How to Treat Moral Injury and Grapple With Collective Trauma,” a recent article by Jack Saul (Zócalo Public Square)
• “This Teen Was Prescribed 10 Psychiatric Drugs. She’s Not Alone.” by Matt Richtel (The New York Times)
• “The Trait That ‘Super Friends’ Have in Common,” by Marisa G. Franco (The Atlantic)
• “Cabaret,” the 1972 film by Bob Fosse 

‍Resources for Safe Abortion: 

• Abortion Resource Database
• Planned Parenthood
• National Abortion Federation
• The National Network of Abortion Funds [list by state]
• Plan C
• Abortion Finder
• Learn More About Abortion Laws In Your State [State Guide]

Shall We Begin?‍

‍I find myself at a loss for words. This is my first letter to you all to kick off the summer. I thought I would talk about a summer of love—of coming together, dates on blankets in parks, sweat washed away in lakes and pools, love and loss and loving again. Many of us will come together and enjoy much of the above, but I find myself fixated on the very first question that will come up in each of these scenarios: how are you?‍

‍“I’m doing well. But the world around me is not.” I hear versions of this response often. I empathize with it deeply: 

• how an event that maybe doesn’t even impact us directly can still impact us profoundly
• how helpless we feel when helping isn’t enough
• how we convert our upset into strategic donations and social posts that let others know where we stand and offer suggestions for how to join us in the fight
• and how strange and guilty we may feel when we try to take care of our own emotions

How could we center ourselves at a time like this? Do we deserve self-care? And how the hell are we supposed to go to work? Are we supposed to talk about the news notification that just popped up on all of our phones? How are we supposed to answer the question that kicks off every meeting, every hang out, every phone call: how are you? And does that even matter? ‍

‍Is it any wonder so many of us are feeling numb and disoriented? Alert: this, too, is part of the mental health crisis. In response to tragedy after tragedy, many of us are cycling through fight, flight, and freeze responses faster than we can finish a cup of coffee—myself included. In early May, a leaked draft suggested that Roe v. Wade—the landmark 1973 ruling that established a constitutional right to abortion—is poised to be overturned by the Supreme Court. I began constructing my response, trying to figure out how I could help my community make sense of this. 

• I could provide context: governments, societies, and religious groups have historically regulated sexuality and reproductive rights to control a populace—because these rights directly impact the mobility and agency of women.
• I could tell you of the deep irony present in the abortion debate: that the “taboo” of abortion is far larger than the practice. Abortions in America have been declining for decades, in part, due to a halo effect Roe helped create. Legal abortions come with consultation about how to protect oneself from an unplanned pregnancy in the future. 
• I could tell you that, in my home country of Belgium, access to affordable contraception and safe abortion provided my generation with personal freedom and provided me the basis of my career.
• I could tell you how dangerous it is to reverse Roe; how many people will die trying to abort on their own because they feel they have no safe option. 
• I could tell you that this imminent decision does not reflect the opinion of the majority of Americans. A recent Washington Post-ABC News poll found that only 28% of Americans think it should be overturned.

I was still formulating my response to this news when a white supremist murdered ten people—all of whom were Black and most of whom were elderly—in a Buffalo supermarket. And then nineteen fourth-graders and two teachers were murdered by a gunman in their classrooms in Uvalde, Texas. Our grandparents. Our children. I have seen firsthand in my therapy office what this terror can do to families. But I have also seen what this terror does to our collective psyche, even when it hasn’t happened to us directly. In a recent essay by Craig Nason, a survivor of the Columbine High School shooting, he cited a recent study that found that 45% of Americans believe gun violence is at a crisis level. “Nearly half of our nation today is in a posture of crisis response,” he said. “Why assume ‘it won’t happen to me’ when guns are now the No. 1 killer of children and adolescents in the United States? It very well could happen to you.” ‍

As a European, it confounds me when a government has the confidence to legislate the birth of children but not the death of children already with us. As a mental health professional, it confounds me when a politician behaves as if investing in mental healthcare and reforming gun laws are mutually exclusive. What I do know is that, even as I am trying to make sense of all of this new information, I am also still processing the carnage in Ukraine and what it has done to families there. ‍

None of these situations impact my personal, day-to-day, life in a concrete way. Instead, they metastasize mentally and emotionally. The surreal nature of our world has lost its novelty. What can shock us now? So many of us soothed ourselves by thinking “if we could just get through the pandemic….” I am writing this letter today to offer my support to all of you facing these tragedies directly as well as to acknowledge all of you who are feeling as I am—unable to separate our personal wellbeing from the state of the world. I want to answer the question I posed earlier: do we deserve self-care? Yes. It is a necessity during times like this. If you want to empower yourself to have the energy to help create a more just and safe world, do not deny yourself the right to feel and to self-soothe. Audre Lorde said “caring for myself is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

As my friend and colleague, Dr. Alexandra Solomon, recently shared: “Grieve. Rage. Cry. Scream. Rest. Distract. Connect. Vote.” Take care of yourself and, when you’re ready, I’ve included resources at the bottom of this letter.

‍Let’s Turn the Lens on You 

• Identify and articulate your feelings, whether it’s to yourself, your diary, or a loved one.
• Don’t just say “I’m stressed.” Try to put your feelings into words. 
• Otherwise, it can make you more stressed and contribute to a state of Empathic Distress—if you are not aware and accepting of your own feelings, then you won’t connect with the feelings of the people around you. You may even shut them down because you don’t allow your own. 
• Do small rapid interventions. 
• Pay attention to what you’re paying attention to: news, arguments, and otherwise.  
• Get outside the best you can. 
• Short term strategies start in your body; a bodied-up ritual involving breathing and stretching will help you relax and restore. 
• Focus on one breath at a time. 

More From Esther

“What Is This Feeling? Anticipatory Grief and Other New Pandemic-Related Emotions” / an article

While this article was written at the height of the pandemic, the lessons therein continue to apply.

‍“Eroticism in Hard Times” / a newsletter

​​When times are tough, Eroticism is what inspires us to survive—and even to thrive—despite all odds.

“Why Eroticism Should Be Part of Your Self-Care Plan” / a blog

‍Erotic self-care begins with diminishing our inner-critic and giving ourselves simply the permission to feel beautiful, to enjoy our own company, to be more compassionate and realistic with ourselves without vacillating between excess and repression.‍

Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information       

I’m Reading:

• Us: Getting Past You and Me to Build a More Loving Relationship, a new book by Terrence Real. When I need advice, I call Terry. His decades of clinical experience, research, and wisdom are invaluable to my patients, colleagues, and friends. Us brings his advice to life. It is the book we need to read to create more thriving and intimate connections. 
• The Extraordinary Gift of Being Ordinary: Finding Happiness Right Where You Are by Ronald D. Siegel
• “I survived Columbine 23 years ago. Is America finally tired of all this death?” by Craig Nason

Resources for Ukraine: 

• International Rescue Committee 
• Help for Internal Refugees 
• Life-Saving Equipment 
• Ukrainian Women Veterans Movement
• Hospitallers Working on the Frontline
• NGO for Traumatized Children
• Help for Nigerians Fleeing Ukraine
• National Bank for Ukraine Fund

Resources for Safe Abortion: 

• Abortion Resource Database
• Planned Parenthood
• National Abortion Federation
• The National Network of Abortion Funds [list by state]
• Plan C
• Abortion Finder
• Learn More About Abortion Laws In Your State [State Guide]

Resources for Gun Violence Awareness:

• Brady - United Against Gun Violence 
• Everytown for Gun Safety
• Giffords
• March For Our Lives
• States United to Prevent Gun Violence
• Disaster Distress Hotline
• Crisis Text Line

Shall We Begin?

“How can I invite my partner to be vulnerable?” This is a question I get asked a lot, and it came up quite a bit in my Valentine’s Day workshop this year. Our primary exercise was to write a letter to a loved one using my prompts, such as “how have you been changed by knowing this person?” and “how do you enhance this person’s life?” After we wrote our letters, so many of you wondered aloud in the chat box: “how could I ever get my partner to do this…for me?”‍

Questions around “inviting vulnerability” come up all the time in my work with couples. A common dynamic I see has one partner who openly shares their feelings—the light ones and the dark ones—and who complains that their partner won’t share in the same way.  “Why won’t you talk to me?” they plead. “You should be able to tell me anything. Don’t you trust me?” For them, “emotion speak” is the expression of intimacy and they experience their partner’s silence as avoidance and distance. It clashes with their belief that we shouldn’t have to experience rejection in intimate relationships. “I tell you everything; you share nothing with me!” 

Much as it hurts, we are not entitled to unrestricted access into the private thoughts of our loved ones. While we can invite someone to be vulnerable with us, we cannot force it. And while we can ask for an invitation into our partner’s inner life—“what’s on your mind?”—we can’t demand admittance. To me, the concept of “inviting vulnerability” tends to focus too much on the latter word: “vulnerability” and not enough on the former: “inviting.” This is the word that gives us a practical path to the thing we want most: intimacy—but it also carries the most risk. When we extend an invitation to someone, we also have to acknowledge the power that comes with their freedom of choice. When we ask “will you join me?” they can say yes, no, or maybe another time. But how they respond has a lot to do with how we invite them. 

Brené Brown defines vulnerability as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure—that unstable feeling we get when we step out of our comfort zone or do something that forces us to loosen control.” Building on this apt definition, I’d like to add that if we want our partner to be vulnerable with us, we have to accept that true vulnerability is not a mandate. It’s a possible outcome that grows out of closeness and trust. And there is more than one way to develop that.‍

The nice things our partner does for us, those attentive little gestures, the sharing of projects in a spirit of collaboration—these, too, are vulnerable acts. A priceless smile or a well-timed wink expresses complicity and attunement, especially when words are unavailable. There’s a reason why, thirty years on, Gary Chapman’s “The 5 Love Languages,” endures as a relational Rosetta Stone for determining how we prefer to give and receive. 

If we want to invite vulnerability—if we want to allow deep intimate bonds to live and breathe in our relationships—we have to take on the risk that comes with invitation. Write your love letter and give it to them. Invite them to read it. Let go of the expectation that they will write one back. Let go of any expectation at all. What can happen when we allow someone to experience our love how they choose, without the pressure of identical reciprocation? The answer may surprise you.‍

Let’s Turn the Lens on You 

Questions on Vulnerability from Inside My Office

• What is a vulnerability that you grapple with?
• What would you say is a vulnerability that your partner grapples with?
• How would you describe your relationship to that vulnerability within them? 
• (Has your response to it been supportive or has it been a bit unhelpful?)
• What’s a vulnerability that used to be hard to talk about?
• What’s a vulnerability that has been central to the development of your self-acceptance?‍

More From Esther

“In Long Term Relationships When Are You Most Drawn To Your Partner” / a new blog article 

​​Faced with the irrefutable otherness of our partner, we can respond with fear or with curiosity. We can try to reduce them to a knowable entity, or we can embrace that which makes them enigmatic. When we resist the urge to control, we preserve the possibility of discovery.‍

“The Other Three Little Words: I Love You, But—What Are We?” / a recent blog article‍

The rise of the “situationship” has elongated the dating phase, elevating a different set of “three little words” to the pantheon of important relational dialogue. “What are we?” isn’t simply a kickoff to commitment. It’s a question with complex motivations and outcomes. ‍

Apply to be in the new season of my podcast “How’s Work?” / Apply Here‍

The pandemic has made us re-evaluate all of our relationships but perhaps most dramatically our relationship with work. I invite you and a colleague to apply to have a session with me for the new season of my podcast How's Work?  We are looking for work pairs, co-founders, colleagues, managers, or any combination to join me for a session to explore the future of work together.‍

Conversation Starters

A compendium of highly recommended sources of inspiration and information

I’m Watching:

• Diana Adam’s TED Talk on chosen families
• “Scarred Hearts,” a film by Radu Jude
• “The Worst Person in the World,” a new film by Joachim Trier
• “Une Affaire de Femmes,” a film by Claude Chabrol
  

I’m Reading:

• “Still Possible,” a new book of poetry by David Whyte
• “Pay Up: The Future of Women and Work (and Why It's Different Than You Think),” a new book by Reshma Saujani
• “Why Design Matters: Conversations with the World’s Most Creative People,” a new book by Debbie Millman
• “The Anatomy of Anxiety: Understanding and Overcoming the Body’s Fear Response,” a new book by Ellen Vora, M.D. 
• “It’s Your Friends Who Break Your Heart” by Jennifer Senior (The Atlantic)
• “My Husband and I don’t Speak the Same Love Language” by Lisa Taddeo (The New York Times)
  

Resources for Ukraine: 

• International Rescue Committee 
• Help for Internal Refugees 
• Life-Saving Equipment 
• Ukrainian Women Veterans Movement
• Hospitallers Working on the Frontline
• NGO for Traumatized Children
• Help for Nigerians Fleeing Ukraine
• National Bank for Ukraine Fund