I was recently asked to write a few hundred words for a very lovely erotica magazine on the topic of sexual fantasy. Of course I obliged - writing not so much about my own mental exploits (yes, I admit it, I do...) but about the fact that my readers often confide anxiously in me about their fantasies. What they angst about, typically, is whether, in the grand scheme of things, fantasy is normal, whether fantasising is bad, and whether one should worry if one fantasises about someone other than one's partner.
To which the answers are, respectively, yes, no and maybe.
Let's take those answers one by one. Yes, fantasy is normal. Almost 100% of men and nearly the same number of women have had a sexual fantasy - so if you're out there and you are dreaming, you are not alone.
And no, fantasy does not mean you are bad - or mad, or sad. Contrary to the myths, it's those with a healthy sexual appetite and repertoire who do it, not the No-Mates. More, those who fantasise are likely to have more orgasms and a much better sex life than those who don't - so, everything to celebrate. Equally, fantasising about something doesn't mean you're going to action it. Typically we dream about things, places and people that are out of our reach, impractical or just plain unwise; we dream instead of doing not as a prelude to it. So, nothing to fret about.
My only caveat - and it's a tiny one - is about whether fantasising when you're partnered means there's something wrong with your partnership. And here, it all depends on exactly who you're dreaming of... the nearer to home the fantasy, the more you ought to be on full alert. So think of your favourite celeb sweeping you off your feet and there's no problem. Find yourself floating away on a dream of your partner's best friend - who, come to think of it, has hinted pretty strongly that they'd be up for some action - and you may want to stop and decide whether you want to go that route.
But otherwise, to my mind, fantasy is a total gift and allowing your mind to wander in a sensuous direction something to be done with eagerness, application - and absolutely no guilt.
Showing posts with label agony aunt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label agony aunt. Show all posts
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Adrenalin junkie!
I really like giving one-off quotes to national newspapers and magazines. There's something incredibly rewarding about being 'flung' a topic at short notice - anything from the McCartney divorce to the efficacy of antidepressants via the Government's latest policy on teen pregnancy. Picking up the phone and instantly being asked to bring all my expertise into play to give insights at the drop of a hat brings with it a rush of pure adrenalin. Can anything beat that?
Well actually, something can. The adrenalin rush of an extended live radio phone-in is, I must admit, even better. My current drug de jour is a monthly co-presenter appearance on Jim Davis' late night Friday show on LBC. I arrive at 9.30. Jim and I enter the studio and pop our headphones on at 9.55. From then until midnight, anything goes. Responding to Jim's sometimes outrageous though always well-thought through questions is the least of my worries. The emails, texts and live calls from our listeners can mean that any topic is fair game.
Last week we began with 'dumping and being dumped' - and the phone lines swiftly started ringing off the hook. Tears, despair, fury - and that was just Jim and I! As to callers, there was the guy who had dumped his one night stand because she wasn't fit enough - and was now asking me to comment on his taking up with her again now she'd lost weight. There was the woman who was agonising over whether to leave her partner of nineteen years. There was the young man who had lost both his girlfriend and his brother at one stroke when he had arrived home early and found them in bed together. All human life was there.
Of course, it's not just the adrenalin rush that keeps me hooked into this kind of work. It's the incredible feeling when someone signs off with the words 'thanks... that's really helped" - or, as happened on my Heart106 programme earlier this year, when a listener emails to tell me that there's been a happy ending and "we took your advice... and the wedding's in June." That, truly, makes everything worthwhile.
Well actually, something can. The adrenalin rush of an extended live radio phone-in is, I must admit, even better. My current drug de jour is a monthly co-presenter appearance on Jim Davis' late night Friday show on LBC. I arrive at 9.30. Jim and I enter the studio and pop our headphones on at 9.55. From then until midnight, anything goes. Responding to Jim's sometimes outrageous though always well-thought through questions is the least of my worries. The emails, texts and live calls from our listeners can mean that any topic is fair game.
Last week we began with 'dumping and being dumped' - and the phone lines swiftly started ringing off the hook. Tears, despair, fury - and that was just Jim and I! As to callers, there was the guy who had dumped his one night stand because she wasn't fit enough - and was now asking me to comment on his taking up with her again now she'd lost weight. There was the woman who was agonising over whether to leave her partner of nineteen years. There was the young man who had lost both his girlfriend and his brother at one stroke when he had arrived home early and found them in bed together. All human life was there.
Of course, it's not just the adrenalin rush that keeps me hooked into this kind of work. It's the incredible feeling when someone signs off with the words 'thanks... that's really helped" - or, as happened on my Heart106 programme earlier this year, when a listener emails to tell me that there's been a happy ending and "we took your advice... and the wedding's in June." That, truly, makes everything worthwhile.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The Ninety Day Plan
I love spreading the word about good new ideas in personal development. This one's courtesy of my friend Charley Ferrer, a wonderful American therapist whom I met at the World Conference of Sexology in Montreal in 2005. Charley suggests that, rather than wobbling about whether a new partner is The One for you - and particularly if you find yourself either treading on eggshells for fear you'll lose him (or her) - you simply put together a Ninety Day Plan. which is guaranteed to sort the wheat from the chaff, and the viable relationships from the ones that are never going to work.
Here's how to do it.
1: When you get together a new partner, make a judgment first whether they are obviously a 'no'no' - continuing track record of alcoholism, drug abuse, violence or infidelity. If you know they are - or if at any time you discover that they are - end the relationship immediately.
2: If there are no obvious danger signs, then make a commitment that for Ninety Days, you are going to commit to this person as if the relationship was going to work. Let them know that is what you're doing and that you're not going to back out before that period or over. (Also let them know that this doesn't mean you are assuming you will marry them or have their babies, just that you're theirs for three months.)
3: Now relax. Be kind, generous, loving and caring, without worrying whether it's being returned - give and take may even out over time. Don't worry or wobble - again even if there are slight glitches, love takes a while to bed down. Hang on in there, and give it time to develop.
4: But also, be authentic. Be open, honest, the real you without trying to impress or win your partner over. If you think something, say it. If you want something, say so. If you have an impulse to do something, do it. Within reason (no truly bad behaviour) do what you feel like.The Ninety Day Plan gives you the stability to do this.
5: At the end of the ninety days, take audit. Are you disillusioned with your partner? If so, then walk away - but don't reproach yourself; you have absolutely given it your best shot. Is your partner disillusioned with you? If he is, then best for him to walk away now rather than do it years down the line when you're married or pregnant.
But if you are both happy, then this is good. He has seen the real you and he knows who you really are. That means you have a really solid and hopeful basis to go forward - for the next Ninety Days.
If after four sets of Ninety Days, things are getting better and better, you'll probably find that nice things will happen - like you'll move in together or buy a ring!
Here's how to do it.
1: When you get together a new partner, make a judgment first whether they are obviously a 'no'no' - continuing track record of alcoholism, drug abuse, violence or infidelity. If you know they are - or if at any time you discover that they are - end the relationship immediately.
2: If there are no obvious danger signs, then make a commitment that for Ninety Days, you are going to commit to this person as if the relationship was going to work. Let them know that is what you're doing and that you're not going to back out before that period or over. (Also let them know that this doesn't mean you are assuming you will marry them or have their babies, just that you're theirs for three months.)
3: Now relax. Be kind, generous, loving and caring, without worrying whether it's being returned - give and take may even out over time. Don't worry or wobble - again even if there are slight glitches, love takes a while to bed down. Hang on in there, and give it time to develop.
4: But also, be authentic. Be open, honest, the real you without trying to impress or win your partner over. If you think something, say it. If you want something, say so. If you have an impulse to do something, do it. Within reason (no truly bad behaviour) do what you feel like.The Ninety Day Plan gives you the stability to do this.
5: At the end of the ninety days, take audit. Are you disillusioned with your partner? If so, then walk away - but don't reproach yourself; you have absolutely given it your best shot. Is your partner disillusioned with you? If he is, then best for him to walk away now rather than do it years down the line when you're married or pregnant.
But if you are both happy, then this is good. He has seen the real you and he knows who you really are. That means you have a really solid and hopeful basis to go forward - for the next Ninety Days.
If after four sets of Ninety Days, things are getting better and better, you'll probably find that nice things will happen - like you'll move in together or buy a ring!
Friday, August 10, 2007
The demanding art of agony aunting
In this morning's email, a note from Lianne, a sixth form student who as part of her A Level dissertation, is researching the role of the agony aunt in modern society. Nicely done - the questionnaire I was asked to fill in was thoughtful and well written, and I was glad she'd asked...
... I was particularly glad she'd asked because her survey led me to think through and write down in black and white just what I do as an agony aunt. Many people presuppose that we advice columists simply, well, give advice to the person who writes to us. But I find our job is actually far more mentally demanding and emotionally draining than that.
To begin with, an agony aunt's role, remember, is not simply to respond to the letter that is written. When I answer the heartfelt problem from Desperate of Dorking, I am also answering the similar current problem of Desperate of Dungeness, the similar future problem of Desperate of Dublin - and increasingly, given the worldwide web, the similar but culturally disparate problem of Desperate of Dallas, Dubai or Dharamsala. None of these people will ever write to me, but all them, along with my million other interested readers, will read and benefit from my column every single week.
Remember too that the best agony aunts do far more than simply give advice. We not only try to write an answer which offers emotional normalisation, which suggests that the presented problem is not insurmountable, which reassures that a person who suffers from that problem is not a monster. We also try to write an answer that helps readers see things differently, find different solutions, find better strategies for dealing. Plus, perhaps most importantly, we attempt to write an answer that gives more generalised and transferrable guidance, that reflects society's best practice in order to help readers to manifest their own best behaviour.
And we do all this in - on average - 150 words, on a one-shot-try, with no interaction with our 'clients'. We feel with our readers, we reach out to our readers, we respond to them from the heart - and then, every day, we worry about not being able to do more for them.
No wonder, sometimes, that the adjective "agony" in our job title can be applied almost as much to what we experience as to what our readers endure...
... I was particularly glad she'd asked because her survey led me to think through and write down in black and white just what I do as an agony aunt. Many people presuppose that we advice columists simply, well, give advice to the person who writes to us. But I find our job is actually far more mentally demanding and emotionally draining than that.
To begin with, an agony aunt's role, remember, is not simply to respond to the letter that is written. When I answer the heartfelt problem from Desperate of Dorking, I am also answering the similar current problem of Desperate of Dungeness, the similar future problem of Desperate of Dublin - and increasingly, given the worldwide web, the similar but culturally disparate problem of Desperate of Dallas, Dubai or Dharamsala. None of these people will ever write to me, but all them, along with my million other interested readers, will read and benefit from my column every single week.
Remember too that the best agony aunts do far more than simply give advice. We not only try to write an answer which offers emotional normalisation, which suggests that the presented problem is not insurmountable, which reassures that a person who suffers from that problem is not a monster. We also try to write an answer that helps readers see things differently, find different solutions, find better strategies for dealing. Plus, perhaps most importantly, we attempt to write an answer that gives more generalised and transferrable guidance, that reflects society's best practice in order to help readers to manifest their own best behaviour.
And we do all this in - on average - 150 words, on a one-shot-try, with no interaction with our 'clients'. We feel with our readers, we reach out to our readers, we respond to them from the heart - and then, every day, we worry about not being able to do more for them.
No wonder, sometimes, that the adjective "agony" in our job title can be applied almost as much to what we experience as to what our readers endure...
Thursday, July 12, 2007
But what do you actually dooooo?
As I've mentioned earlier, my working life has no clear pattern - any two days are usually utterly different. But Mondays and Thursdays have something in common - on both I write and submit agony columns. Today, it's my column for That's Life, a woman's weekly for whom I've written for over a decade now.
My postbag always moves me. A few sentences on lined paper torn from a notebook and hand-scribbled in a guy's coffee break. Several paragraphs inside a pink card with kittens on the front carefully printed by a fourteen-year-old, probably during a maths lesson. Fourteen pages of stream of consciousness, almost certainly written at the dead of night and downstairs, while the hated and feared spouse sleeps on upstairs.
How do I respond? Always from the gut. Yes of course I research around the problems presented, of course I refer on to an appropriate organisation. But the core of my answer is always instinctive, a reaching out to the letter writer, to make them feel understood and to give them a way forward.
I haven't got the answers. But what I can do - what my expertise and experience enables me to do - is to help my readers see their problems differently. The guy writing in his coffee break needs to realise that ending his affair will be hard but not impossible. The schoolgirl writing at her desk needs to realise that she doesn't need to sleep with the boy in order to get the love she craves. The spouse writing in the dead of night needs to realise that leaving the violent partner is the best thing for everyone.
Of course, I'm not just addressing those people. Yes, I originally write person-to-peson, but I'm published to an audience of millions, who buy the magazines and websites that run my columns. What I say needs to help them too see their problems differently - needs to give them permission to stay, to leave, to say yes, to say no.
Above all, my agony aunt columns need to give people the message that when times get tough, they're not alone - and that they deserve not to be alone. If not from friends and family, then from advisors, counsellors, therapists - and from agony aunts - people should feel able to reach out and get the help and support they need.
My postbag always moves me. A few sentences on lined paper torn from a notebook and hand-scribbled in a guy's coffee break. Several paragraphs inside a pink card with kittens on the front carefully printed by a fourteen-year-old, probably during a maths lesson. Fourteen pages of stream of consciousness, almost certainly written at the dead of night and downstairs, while the hated and feared spouse sleeps on upstairs.
How do I respond? Always from the gut. Yes of course I research around the problems presented, of course I refer on to an appropriate organisation. But the core of my answer is always instinctive, a reaching out to the letter writer, to make them feel understood and to give them a way forward.
I haven't got the answers. But what I can do - what my expertise and experience enables me to do - is to help my readers see their problems differently. The guy writing in his coffee break needs to realise that ending his affair will be hard but not impossible. The schoolgirl writing at her desk needs to realise that she doesn't need to sleep with the boy in order to get the love she craves. The spouse writing in the dead of night needs to realise that leaving the violent partner is the best thing for everyone.
Of course, I'm not just addressing those people. Yes, I originally write person-to-peson, but I'm published to an audience of millions, who buy the magazines and websites that run my columns. What I say needs to help them too see their problems differently - needs to give them permission to stay, to leave, to say yes, to say no.
Above all, my agony aunt columns need to give people the message that when times get tough, they're not alone - and that they deserve not to be alone. If not from friends and family, then from advisors, counsellors, therapists - and from agony aunts - people should feel able to reach out and get the help and support they need.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
I can't believe I just did that!
Psychologists at Exeter University have made a neat discovery. Apparently they've tracked down a brain mechanism that alerts us, in the present, to mistakes we've made in the past. So volunteers who messed up on a set task experienced a sort of instinctive mental flinch when they were about to repeat that mess-up. Useful, say the psychologists, because it provides us with an early warning system in skills such as driving.
My thought was this. If we have such a mine detector for physical competencies, what about emotional competencies? Wouldn't it be great if we could learn not to date the partners who make us miserable, or not to run the addictive behaviours that cause us heartbreak? Wouldn't it be great if we could learn to avoid mistakes in our relationships?
Well actually, we do learn. We develop emotional mine detectors from the day we are born - and many of them stand us in very good stead. Problem is, we also overlearn. We learn, too quickly for our own good sometimes, that we need to flinch and run away from certain situations. And then, because of our past mistakes we can end up emotionally paralysed, scared of ourselves, scared of other people, scared of living our lives.
The vast majority of my agony aunt correspondents - and the vast majority of people worldwide who turn up in therapy - are folks who have a wired-in early warning system that leaves them believing that they can do nothing, be nothing, love no-one - for fear of making the same mistakes again.
Note to Exeter, then. Once you've tracked down not only our physical but also our emotional early warning system, can you please work out a way that - when we need and want to - we can also put that system on hold for a moment, relax, and start trusting the world and trusting ourselves
My thought was this. If we have such a mine detector for physical competencies, what about emotional competencies? Wouldn't it be great if we could learn not to date the partners who make us miserable, or not to run the addictive behaviours that cause us heartbreak? Wouldn't it be great if we could learn to avoid mistakes in our relationships?
Well actually, we do learn. We develop emotional mine detectors from the day we are born - and many of them stand us in very good stead. Problem is, we also overlearn. We learn, too quickly for our own good sometimes, that we need to flinch and run away from certain situations. And then, because of our past mistakes we can end up emotionally paralysed, scared of ourselves, scared of other people, scared of living our lives.
The vast majority of my agony aunt correspondents - and the vast majority of people worldwide who turn up in therapy - are folks who have a wired-in early warning system that leaves them believing that they can do nothing, be nothing, love no-one - for fear of making the same mistakes again.
Note to Exeter, then. Once you've tracked down not only our physical but also our emotional early warning system, can you please work out a way that - when we need and want to - we can also put that system on hold for a moment, relax, and start trusting the world and trusting ourselves
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Welcome to my world
It happens all the time. I'm at a party, or a press launch, or even just a plain straightforward business meeting. I start chatting to someone, introduce myself, conversation turns to what we do, and I admit I'm a relationships psychologist... a media commentator... an agony aunt. Then the questions start. What does that involve? Do you analyse everyone you meet? How many letters do you get? Do you ever make stories up? What's the saddest letter you've ever received? Above all, above all, above all... what do you actually dooooo?
That's what this blog is for - to offer a glimpse into what I actually do, and how I do it.
I'm not used to that - it's usually me being allowed a glimpse into other's lives. As a psychologist regularly I delve into people's minds... as a media commentator I analyse news and celebrity stories every day... on my radio programme I get dozens of calls every week... and as an agony aunt I get anything up to 25,000 letters and emails a year.
And yes, sometimes the whole thing is funny or silly - which is fine. But most of what I do means getting involved with desperate issues that touch people's hearts. I find myself becoming sometimes tearful, often angry - but always involved and fascinated.
In this blog, I absolutely won't break any confidences and I won't expose the details of those who write to me. But I will regularly write about what it's like to do what I do, regularly explore what it means to be a psychologist, a commentator, an agony aunt - and regularly discuss what's happening in society through my own psychological viewpoint.
I will open the door and let you into my world.
That's what this blog is for - to offer a glimpse into what I actually do, and how I do it.
I'm not used to that - it's usually me being allowed a glimpse into other's lives. As a psychologist regularly I delve into people's minds... as a media commentator I analyse news and celebrity stories every day... on my radio programme I get dozens of calls every week... and as an agony aunt I get anything up to 25,000 letters and emails a year.
And yes, sometimes the whole thing is funny or silly - which is fine. But most of what I do means getting involved with desperate issues that touch people's hearts. I find myself becoming sometimes tearful, often angry - but always involved and fascinated.
In this blog, I absolutely won't break any confidences and I won't expose the details of those who write to me. But I will regularly write about what it's like to do what I do, regularly explore what it means to be a psychologist, a commentator, an agony aunt - and regularly discuss what's happening in society through my own psychological viewpoint.
I will open the door and let you into my world.
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