Archive for the ‘Quotidien’ Category

Freudians are sexy; Jungians are not ( at least not this last weekend)

Published on January 17, 2012 in Belette in Psychotherapy, Meaning Making and Quotidien. 22 Comments

I spent Friday night with Jung and Saturday morning with Freud. That sounds kind of bad. It sounds like I get around, at lease theoretically speaking. Doesn’t it? And the truth is, I do. I am a bit of a psycho-dynamic polyamorist, meaning I love Freud and Jung and Lacan and Winnicott andFairbairn and Bion and… But I am not writing today about my theoretical polyamory. Today I am talking about sexy. Sexy isn’t something you think a lot about when you think about psychology but it was something I have been thinking a lot about.

Friday night I attended a documentary about Sabina Speirlein and the audience was heavily weighted with Jungians. And the look of the attendees was decidedly “not sexy”. Most of the attendees were over-50 woman who rejected hair color with the same vehemence they might reject a prescription for Prozac or a cognitive intervention. The room was so gray that I felt like I was attending an AARP convention in the midst of hippy-dippy-granola-town-goat’s-milk, USA. Then there was the matter of their clothing: again with the gray. And with the gray there were the ubiquitous shawls and the ethnic inspired jewelry, a’la Chico’s, and the VERY comfortable shoes. I have never seen so many comfortable shoes in one place—there was not a single pair of platforms in the entire pavilion. The lady in gray who sat next to me during the screening was so comfortable in her Mephistos that she took them off. She sat next to me in a public place in her bare feet. I was aghast at her barefooted boldness. I sat there in my red J Crew suede pointed-toe penny loafers and silently judged her for exposing her feet in a public place( yes, I have some naked feet issues and these issues are amplified if the naked foot in question has never been pedicured) and scanned my mind for the appropriate DSM-IV diagnosis that would fit such shocking lack of public decency.

Beyond the drab clothes, gray hair and comfortable shoes there was just a general vibe of croniness(The crone is the archetype of the the old wise woman), haginess and witchypoo-ness to the event. These Jungian women seemed to actively embrace these archetypes and I don’t think they would in any way bristle at me describing them as a crone or a hag. As I am a gal who loves her chemically assisted hair colour, Botox, fashionable attire and heels high enough to enter the realm of Icarus, I felt very out of place and, to tell you the truth, in such crone-filled environments I often feel more than a little unwelcome. I sometimes get the feeling that if you look like you make too much effort on your appearance that the Jungian crone women will decide that you are lacking in depth. That may not be the case but I can tell you that it certainly feels that way.

When I was working on my graduate thesis “The genesis of shame: The fig leaf of fashion and its place in psychotherapy” and I would tell women analysts in the Jungian community in which I trained that I was writing on the topic of clothing I received some pretty harsh judgements. Clothing was looked at as immaterial to the field of psychology and judged as a surface interest and not one that should be given serious academic consideration. It’s interesting to note that five years after completing my thesis that the very same institute offered the course, “Clothes in the Analytic Relationship: Not For Women Only”. It was bittersweet to see that the topic was finally being considered. I attended the nearly sold out event and was somewhat pleased to see that the women who did the presentation had not approached the topic with the depth of analysis that I had. I was also amused and somewhat irritated by the participants cooing question to the presenters, “This is such a rich therapeutic topic. Why hasn’t anyone written on it before?” Grrr!!!!

Okay, sorry for the tangent, back to sexy. So Friday night was extremely un-sexy. That’s not entirely true. The documentary on Sabina Spielrein was kind of sexy in that she was an amazing women who contributed much the the field of psychoanalysis and she slept with Jung and she had the balls to call him out on his bad behavior and then spilled the beans to Freud and went onto become a psychoanalyst. Sabina was sexy. Jung not so much and the attendees of the documentary were definitely not sexy.

Saturday morning I attended a lecture on the Greek Philosophical Roots of Psychoanalysis. I was expecting for the class to be fascinating and insightful and it was. What I had not expected was that the teacher was going to be so sexy. She really was. She had long hair that she tossed back away from her face to great effect. She wore an amazing and figure flattering dress that I would have loved to have. She gesticulated passionately with her long and manicured talons. Peep toe platform pumps revealed red pedicured toes. She was undeniably sexy and super smart. As I sat in the audience discovering how Freud had likely been influenced by Aristotle, I found my mind reviewing some of the female Freudian and Post-Freudian professors I’ve had and how most of them looked extremely embodied, sensual and as if they probably had a pretty amazing sex life( that could just be my projection however there has been a kind of wildness to their hair, some serious heels and a leather skirt or two that all seem to say that their knowledge of sex is more than just clinical).

As Dr. Sexy Freudian lectured I found myself comparing and contrasting the differing representations of femininity that I experienced at both events and I felt MUCH more at home at the second. As I contemplated the differences I imagined that the gray/drab/Mephisto wearing women were a kind of asensual-intellectual that rejected sexuality and embodiment in favor of the world of the mind. and that the wild-haired and skirt and heel wearing Freudian’s clearly had a life in which they managed to be embodied, sexy and smart(Dr. Sexy has a PhD and a PsyD and is a psychoanalyst and an artist and she speaks Latin and she has crazy-sexy style and she is funny).

When the lecture was over I went up and thanked Dr. Sexy for her lecture. What I didn’t thank her for was her willingness to be feminine and sexy and smart(not choosing one at the expense of the other) nor did I tell her how personally meaningful it was to discover such a well-dressed role model. I really wished I had thanked her for being who she is as witnessing her being herself was even more awesome than anything I learned about Aristotle ( and I did learn some good stuff about Mr. Golden Mean). I am sure she over the years she has received some guff for being so glamorous but she didn’t let the guff stop her. She could quote Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle with ease, all while looking like a Russian Jaquelyn Bissett and that is seriously impressive. And no woman, no matter how high her IQ, wouldn’t like to hear that she inspires and looks great while doing it—at least no woman I know of.

Not sure where to start

Published on January 9, 2012 in Quotidien. 40 Comments

So much time has passed since I last wrote that I don’t know where to start. Weekly I think of two or three topics that I could write about and then don’t. The longer I don’t write the more I feel that the first post back has to be super-special and somehow encapsulate in some witty and wise way all that I have learned in my absence—-and that creates a lot of pressure which then prevents me from posting. So I am taking the pressure off. This post will not be witty, wise or insightful, I promise. What it will be will a list of events that I planned on turning into posts and didn’t. Here I go.

1. I learned how to use cruise control.

This blog post was going to be a wonderful and insightful exploration of “cruise control” as a metaphor and how I am no longer afraid to use cruise control in my car or in my life. It would have been chock-full-of-insight. However as I never wrote it I forget the insights.

2. Beauty may only be skin deep but that is exactly why I want the CO2 laser.

In this post I was going to write about my inner conflict about being a person of depth who is choosing to have a painful and costly cosmetic procedure. As I have already had the procedure and recovered from the horrible pain, swelling and orange glow that came post-procedure, I am not at all conflicted. My skin looks MUCH better. It was totally worth all of the peeling, swelling, and scabbing. And I am still deep even after lasering off a layer or two of skin.

3. I went to Morrissey and I didn’t buy a stupid tee shirt.

This post would have been one in which I raved and raved about how much I love Morrissey and what a great time I had when I went to see him in concert and how awesome Morrissey is. For self-serving reasons, I also would have a included a picture that a friend took of me that night in which I look like a 40-something Barbie, thanks to my friend’s camera skills and the makeup artistry skills of the girl at MAC Beverly Hills. The picture is included in this post. The post, however, still remains unwritten.

4. I found a house.

In this landmark post I would have raved excitedly about the house and I would have looked back at the time when house hunting used to make me sick and scared with a terror that required extra sessions with Igor. The theme of the post would have been ‘I can’t believe what a difference a year makes’. That is a theme that I continue to explore.

5. We moved into the house.

This post would have likely been short. It would have had pictures of boxes. I would have complained about the mess. I would have shared with unbridled excitement the joys of a dishwasher, washer/dryer, bathtub and having a home office. I would have told you how cute my house it and how happy I am. I am sure you would have written some lovely comments and wished me well in my new home. Thanks for that.

6. Merry Christmas.

On the 25th I could have just posted a picture of Lily sitting by our Christmas tree, but I didn’t. That said, I hope you had a Merry Christmas. I did. It was a pretty low key Christmas for me. I was in the middle of the move. I was also recovering from the C02 laser procedure. But I was with my guy and my mom and my friend and Lily and it was great.

7. 2011 a year in review.

This post would have been epic if I would have written. 2011 has been huge for me. I can’t think of a year in my life that was more filled with change. I hope 2012 is a bit calmer. I hope your 2012 is whatever you want it to be.

8. The post in which I admit to having bought clothing at Forever 21.

I shop at Forever 21. I’m not proud of it but I do. I buy jewelry there. They have great jewelry. I love their jewelry. I know the quality is crap. It is essentially temporary jewelry, single wearing on some occasions( Forever 15 minutes is what they should call it)—but it is fun jewelry. I stick mostly with necklaces. I occasionally get a pair of earrings.
When I go there I construct a narrative in my head that allows me to shop there without too much shame or fear of looking like mutton shopping for lamb skins. I tell myself that I am there shopping for my imaginary teenage daughter. That narrative protects me from the glances of seventeen-year-olds who see me as an old bat and wonder what I am doing in their territory. I repel their looks by telling myself, “I’m shopping for my daughter.” On a recent trip for “my daughter”,I found my way out of the jewelry section and into the clothing section. A 46-year-old shopping at a clothing store meant for 21 year old girls. But there I found it, in spite of my shame. I found a perfect trench coat for $25. Or should I say, I found a perfect trench coat for my daughter.

9. Perfect day.

I could have written this post almost any day the last four months. Ever since I met “him”, most days feel perfect. We had one on Saturday. I feel sure we’ll have another one today. This post likely would have been sappy and sounded overly sentimental. I wouldn’t care. I’m happy and in love and I don’t care who knows it.

10. Humanistic Existential Philosophy and its Impact on Psychoanalysis

On Saturday I went to a lecture on this topic. I would love to write about it. It was an incredible class—two of my favorite topics in one lecture. I learned about death anxiety, existential dread, the danger of being in itself and the archetypal outfit of middle-aged and older male-psychoanalysts. That last one was not listed on the learning objectives and yet I learned it just the same. ALL the men there, in the over 40-age-range, at the New Center for Psychoanalysis, had on the same outfit as if a uniform: 1990′s leather jacket; pleated trousers; and Rockport shoes. I think Sartre might say that this outfit is a “Being for others” move and hence one of “bad faith”. At some point this became the look for this group as a way of identifying as part of the psychoanalytic club membership and it seems like a variant on this look is as welcome as a cognitive-behavioral intervention or a suggestion of a self-help book over psychoanalysis. I also noticed that beige is THE colour among the female attendees. I would have analyzed that as well. I would have had to do some self-analysis too as I was wearing a camel sweater. Perhaps I too have some “bad faith”. I think it’s unlikely as my beige was actually more caramel and not the “beige of belonging”. I don’t know why I put that in quotes and yet it feels like that is exactly where it belongs.

Step by step

Published on November 1, 2011 in Quotidien. 21 Comments

Sunday I ran a 10K, which in “American” is seven miles. It wasn’t just a run—it was the culmination of a long journey. So, do you want to know the secret to my completing the seven mile run? A single step. Seriously. The entire run was accomplished by taking “just one more step.” It is a noble lie that I tell myself each time I tell myself “I can’t”. I listen to the tired me who feels committed to the “I can’t” and I tell her that I understand. I might even muster my most compassionate therapist voice, “I hear your pain. I know that you think you can’t. You don’t have to; really, you don’t, you just have to take one more step.” I have this conversation with myself hundreds of times during a single run. I have had this conversation with myself thousands of times since my life began anew last March. And each time I tell myself “just one more step” I manage to accomplish more than I ever imagined and I accrue milage, both geographical and metaphorical, that astounds me.

Sunday was my first 10K ever. Sure I had run in the past—I ran for fitness at many different times in my life—but I had never been a runner. I think I have become one. You see, for the past nine months I have run not so much for fitness but rather because it is what I do to feel strong and free and good. There have been times in the last nine months( especially in March, April and May) when my time running was the only time I felt good. If you were here with me back then you will remember that I was feeling a bit like a shark, I was feeling like the way I could handle all the anxiety of my new life was to keep moving. I was a constant moving machine. When not sending our resumes or house hunting or doing a million other things to prove to myself that I could take care of myself and that I would be okay, I was working out. When slammed by the midnight monsters that came out from under the bed and out of the closet who delighted in telling me horrible stories about how I wasn’t going to be able to make it on my own and how I would be homeless and destitute and alone, I would deal with the haunting anxiety by jumping out of bed and onto an elliptical machine and moving as fast as I could. During those first few months it was nothing for me to spend two hours a day on the elliptical machine. As long as I was moving I could keep the anxiety at bay. Moving became a prayer for me.

When I moved into my Casa Azul in May I had no room for an elliptical machine. Actually in my darling little casita I barely have room for my shoes, so I needed to come up with some other space friendly prayer practice that would deliver me from anxiety without taking up any square footage. Running was the obvious choice. From the first time I took a run I felt a kind of strength and power and freedom that propelled me forward in my own life. Maybe just fifteen minutes before I had begun the run I had been feeling doubt and fear—but once I began to run I became a strong woman who may or may not be related to Zeus and Hera. I was, even when I fell, a Wonder Woman when I ran.

On Sunday when I ran the seven miles I didn’t listen to the carefully crafted music playlist that I had created to accompany me through the run, instead I spent the first six miles thinking about the last nine months and how far I had come and how incredibly proud I am of myself and how much I love the life I have created for myself. It, my friends, was a much better and more motivating soundtrack than anything on my iPod. However, on my sixth mile I kind of hit a wall. You see, I didn’t do a few things I should have done to make the run a little easier for myself: 1) I didn’t hydrate before the run. Four shots of espresso do not count as hydration. Water might have been a better choice; 2) I ate only a half a protein bar prior to the race. A banana might have been a good addition to my pre-race meal plan in terms of giving me some potassium to help fuel me through the “I can’t” phase of the run; 3) I forgot to put sunblock on my arms so I couldn’t take of my Lulelemon jacket and it was a warm and sunny SoCal morning that most certainly did not require a jacket. Having the jacket on only added to my sense of being overheated; 4) I forgot my gum( For some reason I find chewing gum to be incredibly helpful when I run. I can’t even explain why. I just know that it works for me). When I hit the wall and was going up what felt like a steep incline( even though it was more of a mole hill that my fatigue was turning into a mountain) I had to go into “just one more step” mode. I told myself almost every step of that mile that I just had to take one more. I dug deep. I turned on the Rocky song on my iPod. I thought of Hillman. I thought of the money I raised and the people who believed in me enough to donate on my behalf. I thought of what waited for me at the finish line: The sense of accomplishment, a bottle of ice cold water and my darling boyfriend( not necessarily in that order). And I kept going, step by step.

When I arrived at the finish line I was very happy to be there. I was happy to be done with the run. I was happy to see my boyfriend’s smiling face. I was delighted that soon there would be blueberry pancakes with butter and syrup—and no guilt. However once I crossed the finish line I forgot about all that it had taken me to get there and I suppose that is as it should be. I was enjoying the moment and the promise of pancakes. But now that I look back on the 10K and the last nine months, I see so many lessons that running has taught me. And I can see all that it took to get me through the marathon of the last nine months.

1) “I can’t” is usually a lie.

2) The pain of the moment does not last forever. If I keep moving the pain will change.

3) Pushing myself just to go a little bit further than I think I can will take me further than I can imagine.

4) I am strong. I can endure. A few falls can’t stop me.

5) I ALWAYS feel better after I have run. This is NEVER not true( sorry for the double negative). This parallels in my non-running life. I almost always feel better having done whatever I think is hard. Having done that hard thing almost always gives me a greater sense of freedom and relief and, on occasion, some endorphins.

*******

I want to thank all of you who supported my run. Thanks to you I was able to raise $880 for The Hirshberg Foundation For Pancreatic Cancer Research. Thank you Anna, Audrey, Daphne, Deni, Keith, Kristin, LeShaune, Laura, Leah, Lynn, Mary, Mona, Pam, R, Rabia, Sharon, Sheila, Susan B., Susan T., Stacy, Tom and Wendy S. Thank you so much!!!!!!! Your support means so very much to me. My goal was $1000. I am only $120 away from achieving it.If you didn’t donate and you would like to, you will be happy to hear that it is not too late. My fundraising page is still up and happy to accept donations.

Change in status

Published on October 25, 2011 in Quotidien. 9 Comments

No, I’m still middle class, middle aged, middle of the road when it comes to politics, and still frequently have a have a middle part in my hair. It’s just that my Facebook status has changed. For the last eight months my status has read “separated” and for years before that I was, I thought, permanently “married” to my status. I remember the moment that I had the nerve to change my Facebook status from married to separated. It was a big moment. Big. I remember the condolences, concerns and comments I got in response to my status change back in March. I remember them as if they were yesterday—only it was a whole lot of yesterdays ago. And all those yesterdays ago I never imagined that nine months later I would find myself where I am today.

When I look back at all that my life was when I was in separated status I am a bit gobsmacked. I have to say that in my separated status I really kicked butt and took names; seriously, I was on fire. I got a great job. I moved out. I lived on my own. I installed my DVD player to my television( some achievements are bigger than others). I paid my bills. I got the oil changed. I survived having my car hit. I dated. I went on Match.com. I went on some HORRIBLE dates( dates so bad that I would cut off my arm to be free of them). I survived those dates. I went to Chicago and discovered that I have absolutely no interest in moving back there. I did a whole lot of growing and changing and learning just how strong I am and just how much I am capable of. And I learned that I am really proud of myself. I like the separated me, I really do.

So, as you know, I have been seeing this guy. And I felt pretty sure that me and my guy had moved from simply dating into “in a relationship”. Let me list some of the indicators, which include the following: He’s met my mother; We’ve named exclusivity; I am cooking for him; We are seeing each other almost everyday/night. This didn’t feel like dating. However it has been a long time since I’ve dated and maybe this is what dating looks like in 2011. Nah, this is not dating. This is something else. This is a relationship. Right?

Well, as of 8 p.m. last night I changed my status. I am no longer “separated”. My status on Facebook is now”in a relationship.” It, my friends, was also a very big moment. BIG. It’s not just big to be in a relationship, it is big to name it and claim it and have it be so true that I would be willing to edit my personal settings for it.

As soon as I updated my status I started to panic( just a little bit). Was I assuming something? We hadn’t said the “R” word and maybe he didn’t think we were in a “R”. What if he didn’t and I changed it and he didn’t?

So, I texted him. I said: “Um, how do you feel about my new relationship status on FB?”

He said( and I paraphrase in order to protect his privacy): “What do you think I think? I think it’s great.:-)

I said: “Are you saying that you are happy that we are in a relationship?”

He said: ”You are hillarious” and then he told me how happy he is and then he listed all these things about me and us that he likes ( I’m not telling you all those things. I want to keep those for myself) .

Well, it seems that we, my guy and I, are in a “R” and that he likes being in it and that he is happy that we are in a “R”. I know that I am happy to be in a “R” with him. I’m really happy.

I don’t know what the next nine-months will bring. In truth I hope that they don’t bring as much change as the last nine did. I hope that the next nine months involve lots of hanging out, hand holding, kissing, and going to dinner and movies and going shopping together and a trip or two. Maybe in the next nine months my practice will grow a little. Perhaps I will move to a new place with a bigger kitchen. And maybe other unexpected changes will surprise, delight and even, less desirably, annoy me. And I suppose that is one of the wonders of this moment, it is extraordinary how very little I want. I just want to be in my life right now and enjoy the now for the wonderful moment that it is. The now is pretty amazing. In my new “in relationship” status I have no lists of goals or actions to take or future that I am planning for, okay that is not entirely true. I do have a list I made this morning, let me share it with you.

Angel hair pasta

Tomatoes

Garlic

Parmesan

Olive oil

Paper towels

These are the things I need to make my guy dinner tomorrow night. Other than that I don’t need anything…and the status of being desire free feels especially good.

Internet/dating

Published on October 22, 2011 in Quotidien. 27 Comments

So I’m dating a boy. Well, he’s not really a boy…he is more of a man. I suppose I could even describe him as a mature man; 55 years old definitely qualifies him for man status. But for some strange reason it feels better to call him a “boy” when I tell people I am dating him. I say, when asked about why I look so happy, “I had a date with a lovely boy last night.” My co-workers then ask me how old this “boy” is and then I tell them that he is 55. I am usually beaming and smiling brightly when I say it. Happily my co-workers don’t correct me or disabuse me of the notion that I am dating a “boy”. They seem to get that when I call him a “boy” it is because something about dating this “man” makes me feel especially “girlish”. Dating him is fun and delightful and easy and fun( did I mention that already?).

Something you should know about this “boy” is that he knows about you. Yep, this “boy” knows all about you. He has read my blog. He is reading this post. And he has read the bulk of my blog, which is no small feat. He read a whole lot of my blog even before we had our first date. Back in the days when my blog was written solely under a pseudonym and I anxioulsy guarded my real identity, I used to worry that patients or friends or family members might discover the blog and/or my real identity might be revealed. Never-ever-ever in a million years did I imagine that I would ever go out with someone who would find my blog on their own before we went out; never.

How did he find my blog? Well, he knew my La Belette Rouge email adress and he Googled “Belette” to figure out what it meant and he found my blog and he started to read it. And, as I already mentioned, even after reading my blog he STILL wanted to go out with me. Okay, let me say for the record, that I don’t think there is anything about me or the blog that would make a man want to run away from me—-it’s just that it is a whole lot for a man to know about me before our first date. It’s just odd for him to know so much about me without me telling him. I felt a bit vulnerable. In a lot of ways my blog is like my diary and it is an extraordinarily surreal experience to have a guy that I barely know reading such personal material. He—even before we sat across from each other for the first time— knew about Igor, Infertility, Lily, and my passion for high heels. He didn’t know about it because I told him but rather because he had read my blog. He had read posts that tell the story of my life, the life I recently left and he even read about the guy I most recently dated—and he still wanted to go out with me.

I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be weird for him too. He has assured me that there is nothing weird about it. He likes my blog and he even has a La Belette Rouge app on his IPhone( how cute is that?). He also admitted that his having access to my blog has made him feel like he has known me longer than he has and that he likes that. And as for his feelings on me introducing him to you, this very cute boy has given me the green light to write about him. I think, he is sort of actually looking forward to me writing about him. He has been asking me when I am going to post next and I feel sure that he is wondering what part of our dates are going to show up in an upcoming post. However, I don’t know exactly how to write about him. It’s sort of odd to write about someone new in my life. We are just getting to know each other and I want to be respectuful of him and our developing relationship. I don’t want to write about anything that makes him feel the least bit uncomfortable. I told him that I would be highly respectful of him and our relationship in any and all writings and he said he already knew that about me. Nice, huh?

I was, I can tell you, a bit concerned about introducing him to you. We have only recently started dating and I didn’t want to introduce someone to you unless I felt pretty sure about him. Well, I’ll let you infer what you will from the fact that I am writing about him. I suppose I could have just not written about him….but that would feel odd too. He’s there in my life and to not write about him would feel somehow dishnonest. So, he’s here. He’s reading this. He’s reading me write about him. Yeah, that’s not weird. Ha!! Dating in the digital age is an entirely new ball game.

Scotland: the West Coast Edition

Published on October 13, 2011 in Quotidien. 10 Comments

Thanks to a dear and lovely friend’s extreme generosity I am spending the weekend in this ideallic location. Lucky me, huh? Something about this place reminds me of the Moors of Scotland, not that I have ever been there but I have watched the Monarch of the Glenn. I plan on spending this weekend with my dear friend and sitting and watching the Ocean, eating pumpkin pancakes while wearing a luxe hotel terry cloth robe, sitting in front of a fireplace, drinking champagne, having a spa treatment, and not thinking about work. I can hardly wait. I NEED this weekend.

I’d tell you where I was going but I think I will wait until I return. I’ll give you a few clues:
1) It is a place where the moon is never full.
2) The Great Pumpkin likely lives there.
3) It’s bigger than a bread box and if it was a bread box it would have pumpkin bread in it.

Hope you have a weekend as lovely as I am about to.

Running scared

Published on October 12, 2011 in Quotidien. 12 Comments

No, I’m not running away. Really, I’m not. I’m okay. In truth, I am better than okay. I am great. I’m sort of surprised by how great I am. Nothing like a little earthquake to make you appreciate solid ground and for the most part I am crazy with solid ground. I like my life. Actually, I love the life I have created for myself. And I have so much to be grateful for, if I am not careful this post will turn into a “Belette’s gratitude list” post and that is not why I am here today. I don’t mean to belabor the point but I am REALLY and TRULY happy to be rid of “Dear John”. I don’t want to waste a moment more on something that doesn’t allow me to be all that I am. So, “Dear John”, if you are reading this…thanks so much for doing me the favor of saying goodbye.

Okay, enough of that. Let me get to the point of this post, I am running a 10K on Halloween weekend( Now do you get the title of this post?). I am running the 2011 L.A. Cancer Challenge that supports The Hirshberg Foundation For Pancreatic Cancer Research. My hope is to raise at least $1000 and I am hoping you might help me achieve this goal. No donation is too small and no donation too large( feel free to help me exceed my goal). I’ve never done anything like this before and promise I won’t do this too often( I don’t want to turn my blog into a fund raising format, as I don’t want to take advantage of you, my dear and generous readers).

You, dear reader, are sweeter than Halloween candy without the pesky calories or resulting tooth decay. All of your support on my last post helped me more than I can say. With that said, I feel a little guilty asking you for more—but only a little guilty as it is a good cause. If you would like to help support me in my “Running Scared Halloween Adventure” please click over to my donation page. Thanks in advance for your kind support, in this and in all things.

I just got a Dear John letter

Published on October 4, 2011 in Quotidien. 49 Comments

…It turns out that I was right. He sent me a letter detailing why we aren’t a good match. I won’t share the details except to say that the idealizing wasn’t enough. It turns out that I am not enough for him. When we spoke he told me he told me he was telling me all of this now because he didn’t want to hurt me later. He said he didn’t want to hurt me because I am so “sweet”.

So its over and I will no longer get texts through out the day in which he calls me “Baby”, “Honey”, “Beautiful” and “Gorgeous”. He will no longer tell me how much he misses me or how he can’t wait until Wednesday. I will miss those texts. Those texts gave my last several weeks meaning and energy and excitement. No one will give me roses this week. No one is going to text me to remind me to eat. And for some reason that has me crying non-stop which makes getting ready for work a real challenge. Waterproof makeup can only go so far.

We were supposed to go to Mexico for the weekend. I had taken time off. I bought a bathing suit. I bought sunblock. I got a bikini wax. And now we aren’t going. And now I have the bathing suit and the bikini wax and nowhere to go. That said, I don’t care about the trip. I care about the loss of who I thought he was and the fun/joy/love I felt with him in my life and now he is gone. And for today I feel really and truly sad.

I hate to brag but I here I go, I have the number one memoir blog

Published on September 12, 2011 in Quotidien. 23 Comments

The kind people at Adult Education Course.org have named La Belette Rouge the #1 of the top 50 memoir blogs. I am HIGHLY honoured. If you like reading memoir then check out their impressive list of memoir blogs.

Something about this honour has sort of kicked my memoir writing a** and has made me want to get writing again. Thank you, Adult Education!

What a difference a year makes

Published on August 29, 2011 in Quotidien. 33 Comments

Can you see how happy I am? I hope it shows. If you can’t see my happiness then you can at least see my cute leopard shoes.

Archive for the ‘Quotidien’ Category

Freudians are sexy; Jungians are not ( at least not this last weekend)

Not sure where to start

Step by step

Change in status

Internet/dating

Scotland: the West Coast Edition

Running scared

I just got a Dear John letter

I hate to brag but I here I go, I have the number one memoir blog

What a difference a year makes

About Me

Have La Belette Rouge delivered right to your door

Honorary weasels who are the nicest, smartest, funniest, and best looking people on the Internet

Follow Me

Belette’s Favorites

Belette in Psychotherapy

Belette on Writing

Belette on infertility and being childless not by choice

La Belette Rouge for the Amazon Kindle

Belette Rouge’s Tip Jar