Auteursarchief: LS Harteveld

Niet alle vijftienjarigen (wachten tot de seks begint)

ongeveer 1994, bij een huisgenootje op de verjaardag

ongeveer 1994, bij een huisgenootje op de verjaardag

Eigenlijk had bij deze blogpost een foto moeten staan van toen ik 15 was. 
Of eigenlijk had er helemaal geen foto van mezelf bij moeten staan, want ik wil ff low profile met de LS Harteveld.
Onder mijn eigen naam ben ik namelijk de afgelopen maanden veel zichtbaarder geworden, en ik heb geen zin om per ongeluk (God forbid) hier ineens bekend te worden.
Face and all.
Maar ik kreeg een dag of 10 geleden zulke leuke foto’s van toen ik een jaar of 22 was, en blijkbaar mijn mes even aflikte voor de foto, terwijl ik vermoedelijk aan het nadenken was of ik tijdens de seks mijn cowboyboots (rechts op de foto) aan zou trekken.
Of zoiets.
Ik weet niet wat ik dacht!
Wel dat life sweet was.
Ik zat in het honeymoon eerste jaar met de man bij wie ik 14 jaar zou blijven. Eindelijk had ik seks met iemand waar ik én tot misselijk makends toe verliefd op was; die niet meteen wegliep én die net zo avontuurlijk was in bed als ik.

Daar had ik verrekte lang op moeten wachten.

En zojuist, toen ik 25 jaar na die foto in de hal mijn slangenleren laarzen aantrok, en zag dat mijn donkere spijkerbroek slijtplekken op de knieën heeft, en ik tegen mijn spiegelbeeld zei met een brede grijns:
 ”Ja, want ik zit echt heel vaak op mijn knieën.”
(feitelijk zei ik dit in gedachte tegen een leuke man, maar daar ga ik hier verder niet op in)
En ik op mijn beurt weer moest lachen om die brede grijns van die dame in de spiegel, toen dacht ik:
“Jongens, dit is toch gewoon niet te toen zo!”

Tot het me te binnen schoot dat het voor anderen waarschijnlijk wél te doen is.
Dat iedereen boven de 18 nu waarschijnlijk echt diep verontrust is over het virus, en zich braaf aan de regels houdt. Niet omdat ze anders gezeik krijgen, maar omdat ze ten diepste geloven dat 1,5 meter afstand houden een kleine prijs is om te betalen om te mogen blijven leven, en voor anderen om te mogen blijven leven.
Kijk, t gaat mij er niet om of die prijs te hoog of te laag is; Maar het interesseert mij werkelijk geen lor wat er besloten wordt.
Ik heb zoiets van:
JUST SEND ME THE FUCKING MEMO 

Behalve dan dat als ik slijtplekken op mijn knieën zie, ik me realiseer dat als het aan The Memo-people ligt, ik 2 jaar geen seks ga hebben. 
Er zijn écht grenzen.
Ik zal geen illegale poker parties bezoeken of om één of andere flutreden gaan lopen chillen met z’n allen: Maar om een niet heel moeilijk te herleiden reden moet ik de laatste week vaak denken aan een fin-de-siècle evenement met de naam “The Houston (3-digit number)”.
Het werkelijke aantal vul ik niet in om geen po r n osearches op mijn site te krijgen.

Ik zit echt niet zozeer nu aan mijn taks, maar aangezien seks-met-iemand-anders-dan-je-wettelijke-echtgenoot-of-partner, dé grote olifant met een stijve is die midden in de 1,5 meter samenleving staat en waar niemand het over heeft, heb ik zoiets van:
Dan kan ik dus feitelijk net zo goed nu seks hebben.

Als het er toch op neerkomt dat we hierin gewoon ons eigen plan moeten trekken en onze booty met rode string tegen de krib moeten gooien, then now is as good a time as any.

Nogmaals, ik ga geen risico’s nemen voor mannen die ik niet ken, of die Maybe’s zijn (Die ken ik überhaupt nauwelijks – Ik ken alleen Hell Yesses! En Ik voel me gevleid maar nee dankje’s.)
Maar verder lijkt t me een mooie gelegenheid om open kaart te gaan spelen, en duidelijk te maken dat ik t er wel voor over heb.

Volgens mij ben ik een beetje afgedwaald, maar het kwartje dat dus viel toen ik daar op mijn knieën grapjes tegen mijn spiegelbeeld aan het maken was, was dat ik, toen ik jong was, vond dat t veels te lang duurde voordat de seks begon.
Ik had niet perse een hekel aan school ofzo. Maar je kon dat toch onmogelijk serieus nemen, vergeleken met leuke jongens en seks.
Aangezien pubers erom bekend staan dat ze een obsessie hebben met seks, ging ik ervan uit dat al mijn leeftijdsgenoten dat ook vonden.
Dat er geen puber was die dacht dat school iets anders was dan tijdvulling als je niks beters te doen had.

Pas veel later toen mijn generatie ging trouwen, banen nam, en zich vrijwillig liet inmetselen in hun doorzonwoning met hypotheek en kinderen, dacht ik:
“Ja maar jullie wilden gewoon helemaal nooit seks!”

Pas toen ging ik terugrekenen, en realiseerde ik me dat mijn leeftijdsgenoten nooit ook maar enige echte oprechte interesse erin getoond hadden.
En (en!) dat degene die wel een spannend seksleven hadden later alsnog een gesettled leven gingen hebben.

Nou heb ik zelf door een aids-fobie kei- en keihard moeten werken om mijn seksleven echt goed te krijgen. En t dus niet in 1 of andere veilige verkering te parkeren, een relatievorm waar ik niet warm of koud van werd.
Dus het is een beetje moeilijk te vergelijken.

Maar desondanks kan ik me met geen mogelijkheid voorstellen dat als ik wél een goede start had kunnen maken qua psychische gezondheid, en niet twee decennia geplaagd was geweest door paniekaanvallen, dat ik me dan halverwege de 30 wel vrijwillig had laten opsluiten in een rijtjeshuis met een ovulatietest en een man.

Met andere woorden, pas toen iedereen enthousiast een lange termijn relatie in holde na de studententijd, en daar 10 jaar later nog zat, vielen me de schellen van de ogen:
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
En ik begon terug te rekenen, en zag dat ik nooit ook maar enig bewijs had gezien dat andere mensen seks belangrijk hadden gevonden.
Ze vonden RELATIES belangrijk, een vaste partner, een goede baan.
En binnen die beperkingen waren ze geïnteresseerd in de seks zo goed mogelijk maken.
En waarschijnlijk was ook in de pubertijd, de periode waarin men wat avontuurlijker is, het verschil tussen mij en hen al levensgroot.
Ik herinner me nog een wat onwerkelijk gesprek met een heel erg leuk vriendje dat al vanaf zijn veertiende vriendinnetjes had, en dat om redenen die mij nooit helemaal duidelijk zijn geworden, in mij geïnteresseerd was.
Toen ik een keer iets liet vallen dat ik gewoon lekker van hem genoot, maar me verder geen illusies maakte over hoe belangrijk ik voor hem was, was hij heel erg beledigd en in de war.
Dat werd echt een heel ding.
Misschien was hij ook wel verdrietig ofzo, ik weet t niet, maar t gelde niet echt lekker tussen ons als ik hem erop wees dat hij niet erg lang bij zijn meisjes bleef, dus dat ik helemaal vrede had met de tijdelijkheid ervan.
Zijn voor mij onbegrijpelijke reactie was wel één van de vele tekenen dat je niet geacht werd seks zonder hoop op een lange termijn relatie, te waarderen.
Een beetje zoals dat mijn ouders vonden dat je kaas en ei alleen met brood moest eten, terwijl ik geen enkele reden zie waarom ik een eitje of kaas niet los zou eten.
Zo was het met relaties ook: Seks en een relatie hoorden bij elkaar.
Voor anderen was de relatie het bewijs dat je de persoon belangrijk vond, en waardeerde.
Terwijl voor mij de seks daar het bewijs van was.
Dit verklaart ook dat mijn vriendje en ik elkaar niet begrepen:
Hij dacht dat ik hem als persoon niet belangrijk vond, omdat ik de relatie niet belangrijk vond.
Terwijl ik dus nu 30 jaar later nog over hem schrijf.

Maar goed, de relatie: Dáár diende je in te geloven.
Dáár moest je focus liggen.
Als je focus op seks lag, of van elkaar genieten zoals ik het meestal iets breder omschrijf, dan was dat automatisch een belediging voor de persoon.

Geen wonder dat ik er dus geen vertrouwen in heb dat er ooit een realistische tijdlijn gaat komen wanneer de mensen die geen relatie hebben weer seks mogen hebben.
Want die komt er niet.
Seks alleen bestaat niet.
Als je geen relatie hebt, bestaat alleen het woord “daten”. 
En dat je met alle risico’s van dien, niet een beetje bij kaarslicht met z’n tweeën lispelend over de Rioja moet gaan hangen, met iemand met wie het uiteindelijk niks wordt, dat begrijpen we natuurlijk wel.
Ik pleit er dan ook voor, om de gelegenheid te gebruiken om onze dating routines te verseksualiseren, en niet in real life af te spreken, tenzij je:
– of klaar bent om te ballen.
– of klaar bent om samen te gaan wonen.

Het is dat, of wachten tot de seks begint.
Maar dat is mij in het verleden in elk geval heel slecht bevallen.

~Lauren/LS Harteveld
My diaries en erotica are available at my BOOK SHOP

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow my 
English blog which I established in 2018:
laurenharteveld.com

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

By cancelling my alias, the truest part of who I am

IMG_0650“By cancelling my alias, the truest part of who I am,
leaving an empty, dutiful shell that will become a successful model citizen,
where no one will die because I wasn’t careful enough,
I have done everything within my power to save a world I do not want to live in.”
.
from 
 
.
I think I will write more about LS Harteveld, how she came to life 2006, the excitement of this website (since 2010!), and everything that happened, but not today.
.
For now I feel so incredibly tired, as if I have completed something big.
And I have.
But also: 
The real work is just beginning.
.
So many things to review, and books to print.
Writing everything, channeling LS Harteveld, was only the beginning.
.
And after death comes life.
I believe it is time for me/Lauren, to dive head first into my performance project 1994.
Or March 1995 as it is already.
And I can’t do that living in 2020 at the same time.
.
Although Project 1994 has started summer 2019, the Corona crisis has finally given me a reason to mentally leave 2020, and bury myself in 1995.
.
. 
So we will meet again.
Either you’ll see me as curator and moderator, and publisher of LS Harteveld books.
Or you’ll one day see me publish Lauren’s secret 1995 diary, and know it started today.
.
Maybe after the Corona crisis Lauren will come back to whatever year it is then.
Maybe she’ll stay in the 90s and keep communicating with us through books, published never as blogposts.
But as complete diaries, books that transcend us to a different time.
.
For now I like to think she is a 22 year old graduate,
trying to figure out life.
Because that is exactly how I feel.
.
the writer formerly known as
~Lauren/LS Harteveld
.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow my
English blog which I established in 2018:
laurenharteveld.com

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Passion Project

Leisure is always a priority now

Hanging out an the beach with Michael Douglas just became a priority. And not just because it would give me something to write about.

One of my earliest Twitter bios said:
“Yoga teacher by day. Cougar by night. Writer 24/7″
I am no longer a yoga teacher, since I don’t teach public classes. And I have my writing reasonably under control, but this can also be because my love life has been non-existent since the breakup.
It’s not that hard not to write if you don’t have much to tell.

But the one I ve digressed from the most, is cougar. I no longer see myself dating anyone under 40
And I ve known this for years.
If my affair with Mr.Big established one thing, it’s that it converted me from a cougar into someone who will probably never date men younger than her, ever again.

Today, my morning and early afternoon was busy. But for the afternoon I had accepted an invitation to go to the movies and have a drink.
The person who had invited me had been surprised that I had accepted, and I said this may have been because I used to hold off social appointments during office hours.
It conflicted with my idea of “preparing” myself for a daytime job.
“But I hold a different view on that now,” I concluded.
Not to mention that I always work on weekends, so if I was serious about working office hours, I would also have to quit at some point.

But originally I had thought working hard for my own business, eight hours a day net, would be great for my confidence. Knowing that the transition between having been an entrepreneur (I m still an entrepreneur, more on that later) and a payroll job, would be a smooth one, since I had already been keeping office hours.
But it turned out to be the opposite.

A payroll job is a social thing. It will nourish me in a way working from home doesn’t. 
I had this resolution to make good use of my final weeks of freedom and work on my publishing business and my online yoga. But I just can’t make myself…
It all feels so terribly wrong.

But if I can’t make myself work on my business now, with ample time, how will I possibly do that in the future?
Where does my online yoga, my writing under my real name as well as under this name;
Where does it all belong in my new life?
Or is this hesitation a sign that it really does not belong at all?

I think I have been asking myself this question for a long time. About where my writing, biz, and purpose fit. Like a buzz in my head, an annoying background noise.

But after noticing today, how quickly I had been to “sacrifice” what could have been a productive afternoon, I see that I’m just recovering from all the years of writing and solitude. Maybe even from the five years of being with my lover.

That my resistance around setting up my new business, publishing my books, and even doing yoga, doesn’t have anything to do with me not being an entrepreneur.
But with having maxed out on my loneliness quota.
I need to replenish and restore with ample of social context.

I don’t know how long it will take before I pick up consistently running my businesses and publishing my books. But I do see that self-care needs to be an absolute top priority, from now on. And for the first time in my life really.
So for example when I start working, I will not cram my evenings with running my business. When I m off, I m off.

The only thing I will be doing is yoga, men over 40, and write.
Because that is the one thing from that 2010 tagline that didn’t change:
I m still a writer 24/7

~Lauren
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living 

My diaries en erotica are available at my BOOK SHOP

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow my 
English blog which I established in 2018:
laurenharteveld.com

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Well you know I m wacko

unnamed (1)I m now at an intake of over one viewing of Basic Instinct a day. And honestly I have no idea where I get the time.
Especially because I ve also consistently been doing my mindset work/ listening to Katrina Ruth on YouTube/ live streams on Facebook.

So how do I also watch a feature length movie a day?

And it’s so addictive, it took me days to replace it with something else. And now that I have (An Inside Job), I ve spontaneously created a home study program from all paid courses from Katrina Ruth, which I own.
In other words, it’s much more tempting to study marketing and personal development for entrepreneurs, than to watch any other movie than Basic Instinct.

And the strange thing is, it is doing something to me which I cannot explain. I really have no idea. It’s like being in love but not knowing with whom. I mean I m in love with Michael Douglas, who plays Nick Curran, but that doesn’t really explain it. This is something else, I m sure of it.

The last days have been super intense.
On Thursday I felt this high vibe of creating a new channel under my real name, but on Friday I went down the rabbit hole where I had many adventures, some in this world and others just in my head.

And it took a drastic haircut, a stationary haul, hours at the cafe AND creating an entire education out of all Katrina Ruth programs before the voices in my head finally said:
“Okay, we’re done. We’re still clueless where we’re heading but we do know what you will be doing from now on, to get there.”
Which didn’t make sense, but I took their word for it.

And in my mind I heard the lines detective Andrews said to a suspended Michael Douglas/ Nick Curran, when he comes to Andrews to ask what he has found out about Catherine Tramell’s parents: 

NICK:  Did you find out about her parents? 

ANDREWS: You’re on leave, man. You’re on psycho leave. I’m talking to a possible wacko here.

NICK: Well you know I’m wacko, Sam, what’d you find? 

They were right. It’s not about being wacko. 
It’s about what you find out.

~Lauren
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

My diaries en erotica are available at my BOOK SHOP

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow my 
English blog which I established in 2018:
laurenharteveld.com

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

 

A Day of Truth

fffffffffff_2This morning I woke up feeling so hesitant about what I would share here today..
The last 24 hours have been like a roller coaster with regard to my creative work under my real name, much of which I still have not shared there, but the upcoming years are going to be so exciting.

And also, I will be having a daytime job, limiting the number of hours I will be working on my own business. This is all deliberate. I have been working independently as a yoga teacher for almost 17 years.
I crave having colleagues.
Even when I make more money than I can spend as a writer, I would still want to have a normal job. After so much time alone, it’s like a form of self-care to be among people and to leave the house every morning being expected somewhere.
Regardless of how high I value showing up online, and I definitely do, having a place locally and during daytime hours, is a priority from now on.
Which is great.
But not if you are so creative you’ve been needing two accounts, two names and two languages, meaning basically four different businesses, to channel all that…
Then you might be a bit like me, wondering: “How the f am I going to do all that?”
How am I going to show up for four accounts, with all those new plans I ve got going, AND work a job?
No idea.
But, I can say that it excited me very much.
Not despite the stress, or uncertainty, or despite having five balls up in the air;
But because of it.
But with LS Harteveld being my writer account, and currently the emphasis being on moving forward under my real name, and becoming more visible every day -
What was I going to share here?
If any?
Was it realistic that I would stay online here, or was it better to just put all my LS Harteveld accounts on lock-down during the week?
That’s why this morning, I woke up excited over all my new plans for my other account, but found myself in doubt about my future as pen name author.

So initially I went about my day, and knew what I would be doing and sharing and creating under my real name. When suddenly my favorite person on the internet Katrina Ruth, sent us an email pointing out her latest Facebook livestream where she had discussed, among other things, the sources of having a dry vagina.
I vividly remembered that from an earlier livestream – you can find the essential clip HERE! - it’s because you’re not on purpose, not living the life of your dreams, not hustling your ass off, and not having all the fun, all the men, and all the cookies you want.
That’s what causes a dry vagina.
But just watch her livestream or the clip from years back to hear her say it.
I ve also included the clip at the bottom of this post.

This live stream was the moment when I realized that I was STILL not anywhere near sharing my true message under my real name. I was still holding back. Somehow my old profession, or maybe a better word is my old stigma, of being a yoga teacher still had its clean, proper, manicured claws in me, and I was giving that People Pleasing Demon a place in my life.
WHY WAS I DOING THAT?
Why was I preparing a video for my series over there discussing why you should not be using too much social media, if you want to move up, raise your energy and focus on the things that matter-
When I was NOT talking about The Thing of Things?
Sex.
Why?

In my defense: I do think there were more reasons for this than just the residue of two decades of yoga. 
And I know what it is, and before I explain, let me first affirm that this WAS the moment I saw that I desperately needed to keep writing for this account.
That now more than ever, with a life of so much external pressure and social expectations awaiting me under my real name, I needed this pen name and writing here to stay in integrity. To stay real, I need LS Harteveld because at the end of each day, I still want to be able to look myself in the eye and say:
“Would LS Harteveld have endorsed this message? Is this who we really are?”
I need to write here, especially at the end of my weekdays when the chaos and the pressure has come at me from every different angle online and in real life, and say:
“I have stayed true to myself.”

So yes, I ll be staying!

But back to the carefully crafted message for my work under my real name: Why had I been holding myself back? Without noticing even. Why did it take a live stream from Katrina Ruth to shake me up out of my docile worker bee mentality? 
Because of a man.
I was entirely OFF and not myself in the field of men.
In the most literal sense, I was already heading to Dry Vagina Land.

So what happened?
In December my secret lover ended our affair, and for the first six weeks I held up fine. Later on I realized this was also because I just didn’t want to break down in front of people who had silently or more overtly disapproved of me being a secret lover.
I was going to be fine with a vengeance.
Normal people with normal relationships were the ones that crashed and burned when they were dumped after five years by someone they were still madly in love with and had the best sex ever with.
But I was not.

I was going to show that not only had our affair existed outside of every day life, that I was still there, and not here. I refused to come down from the level I had been living at for five years, in order to feel the misery of it all on an earthly plane.

But then I did something for which I blame for my current lack of balls, when it comes to speaking my truth and I don’t recommend this to anyone:
I paused.
For a week or two I wallowed in the feeling of being dumped.
Partly because I assumed I had been running away from my true feelings long enough: It was time to face them.
And partially because to me the ultimate victory would be to feel deeply saddened, and to still not crash and burn. To still be the badass I had been throughout our affair, even when I could, and did, feel it deeply sucked that he dumped me.
Even then.

However, this entire process was not as conscious as I would have liked it to be. It happened gradually, and before I knew it I found myself seriously bogged down by the feeling of not being in each other’s lives anymore.
I found myself wondering what I could have done differently.
And pessimistic about the sustainability of the relationships I chose.
Meanwhile in the first six weeks I had felt relieved that I was no longer a secret mistress, and partially because of this sudden burst in energy, I had told a lot of people that it was all over and that I would never become a secret mistress again.
This was great social glue.
I almost got standing ovations when I said I would never be a secret mistress again.

It was disgusting.

So when I created all these plans for my real name, including the neatly packaged message for today to not use social media too much, in order to preserve your energy;
Was I still in my crowd-pleasing, not-ruffle-the-feathers, never-do-it-again, mode?

Damn right I was.
Did I need Katrina Ruth to remind me that this is how we girls get dry vaginas?
Absolutely.

I can hardly imagine a day when I needed to hear this message more than I did today, on the morning I was mentally preparing for a message that was downplaying the entire essence of me. The moment when I was desperately wanting to fit in and maybe even to be punished perhaps, for being a secret mistress for so long, by never speaking my truth again.

I was in my kitchen having breakfast.
I watched the entire livestream, 45 minutes.
And afterwards I looked up, as if I was Cinderella who had been sleeping for way too long. There was an immense clarity that the first six weeks of simply going in denial over the breakup, had been a far better choice than the final ones, where I had been feeling the emptiness of his departure.
And that everything in my life, from the messy way my house looked to the just-not-soul-aligned self-deceiving projects I was churning out, was reflecting this poor mental state I had allowed myself to get into.
And that there was only one way to get out of all of this, once and for all.

To ALWAYS speak my truth.

I ditched all plans to keep coloring between the lines, and instead of covering the song Social Disease (about social media) I was going to cover the title from the album it was on.
Slippery When Wet .

And when tonight, I am standing in front of the mirror, and look LS Harteveld in the eye, I ll make sure she’s proud.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

My diaries en erotica are available at my BOOK SHOP

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow my 
English blog which I established in 2018:
laurenharteveld.com

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

 

In Praise of Staying Lovers | La Belle Epoque movie

It took me a not unpleasant second viewing of the French movie La Belle Epoque (2019/2020) to find out why I liked the movie so much.
I usually remember some compelling dialogue, a sound byte, which offers both the essence of why it pleased me, as well as something catchy to open or close my blog post with.
But with the movie being French and the Dutch subtitles not giving me anything I remembered, although that doesn’t mean nothing memorable was said, it was not the dialogue which made me like it so much.

Before we get into the message of this lighthearted, beautifully shot French movie, about a disillusioned cartoonist who signs up for a theatrical production to take him back to the era or day of his choosing, and he chooses to meet his wife again from whom he is estranged,
i want to get one thing clear about myself.
Make that two, I need to say two things.

First of all, that I am an actor’s fan and a fan of male or female heroins.
I visit movies not because of a director nor because of a topic. I don’t visit them because they offer a profound, or subtle or new perspective to something important.
But if I like the actor? I am surprisingly flexible to what the movie is about.
Within limits.
There are movies with Brad Pitt I have not seen. There are plenty of movies with Angelina Jolie I have not seen. And there are very few with Charlize Theron movies that I have seen, although she seems to be making a comeback to mainstream these last couple of years.
But especially male actors stretch my taste, and I have ended up with some movies out of my comfort zone because of them. 

The second thing I need to tell you is that my lover broke up with me in December, and I used to be a secret mistress for five years and now it is over.
After the initial boost in energy this gave me, to no longer be “the bad woman”, I m gradually coming back from that place where I really believed I too, was better off without our affair.
Don’t get me wrong, I m still not a wreck.
And I m definitely happy that I waited for the world to turn their eyes off of me, whether out of concern or hopes I would crash and be punished by God for my sins or become super relatable or approachable because of my pain, before I turned inside to discover how I really feel.

Getting over a breakup like this is a far more delicate matter than just deciding you re never going to be a secret mistress again.
Even though I did say that in those first weeks, something I seriously regret now.
But maybe because I refused to bend, break or even to give in an millimeter to grief, everything is still very raw.

I did nothing in terms of getting over this, which may explain that all I see in movies is him, me, or us. Exactly the way I have done for five years, except it is all past tense now.
This movie is no exception.

All I see is us.

And these two main motivators for me to see and like movies were both present in La Belle Epoque.
The male actor Daniel Auteuil and the character he plays, Victor, possesses a warmth, wit and charm that could make any woman drop her panties without much further ado.
And the female characters are strong and unreasonable, in a way that made me realize we would never see such girlpower in an American drama.
But honestly, I was so taken by Victor, that even if the female leads had been totally boring, I would still have had a great time.
Like I said, I am an actor’s girl.

I think it was the second part of my preference – where do I fit in? Where do we fit in? – that I only understood the second time I saw it.
This was more complex than falling for Victor’s cheeky smile and his creative talents.
First I thought it was a matter of finding out which role my lover had, and which role I had.
The most logical one, my lover in the male protagonist role of betrayed underdog and me in the role of his vengeful wife, did not make sense at all.
From the two of us, he was definitely the dominant, partly because I would never make the mistake of taking the lead with a man I like.
It’s one of the things I consider a mistress quality, and one “real” relationships can learn from.
Number one, always support each other.
But, number two, make it clear who is dominant and who is submissive, and stay in character.
Victor and his wife Marianne did not support each other, nor did they have a clear agreement on who was in charge. And their behavior pointed towards the roles being reversed. Marianne was and always had been dominant, and Victor aimed to please her.

I tried out different ways of looking at it, including putting myself in Victor’s shoes, but the breakthrough came from exploring the concept of what is real, and what is fake.
Which relationships are true, and which are fake because one of you is playing a role?

Victor goes back in time and meets an actress who plays his young wife, as they reenact how they met.
But over the course of the film, their play blends over to reality multiple times. And when the production company tries to end it, with a final scene, it is clear that even though the actress stays true to her scripted lines, and Victor is unaware that she is still in (or back in) character;
Her tears are real.
The lines she delivers to make Victor leave their play, are so intense that you can just see that she has feelings for him too.
It is no longer possible to separate reality from play, not even for the actress herself.

A mirror image of that comes at the end of the movie when his wife takes over the role of her younger self, and appears in the 70s bar where they once met.
She plays she’s the 1974 version of herself, and Victor reenacts his part.
This is the most intimate moment between this estranged couple of Victor and Marianne, as they connect emotionally, through lines which barely touch on their current day reality.
They are in a play.

And it was this moment, the second time I watched the movie, when I understood why I liked the movie. Because it illustrates that when we play a role, we are actually more real, than when we are real.
And that we regard it as normal that at the beginning of a relationship, we play a role, and engage in fun and surprising conversation; 
Yet when we are in a relationship, we find it acceptable that this fades to the back ground. That we have a “real” relationship.
What the closing scene between Marianne and Victor illustrates, is that when we play, we are most connected.

I know why this is.
Because when we play we have our consciousness in it. That is what makes it so attractive. We are fully present in the moment, and with the other person.
It is absolutely magnetic.
It is what I did when I saw my lover, it is what he did when he was with me, it is what every newborn couple has done that was head over heels in love.
Nothing escapes you when you are in love, you are completely absorbed by the other person, by the connection. You re under the spell of it.

I think what I still have to get my head around, is what this means for my approach.
Or for what we could have had, if things had not ended.
Would we have done a better job?

La Belle Epoque shows us, that if you let it slip, you will need to move heaven and earth and book an expensive time travel gig to get your relationship back and to find each other again.
But have my lover and me not proven that if you do stay true to your role and put the care into meeting each other, it still might not be enough?

We never had a “normal” relationship, so it is hard to compare.

But something inside of me, tells me that maybe in order for it to work, I would have needed to accept things to become real. And for us to drop the roles of lovers.
That a real relationship may not go with playing the best version of a fantasy self.

Maybe for me this movie highlighted that a real relationship can only be formed, at the expense of what the lovers once had.

I know what I would pick.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

My diaries en erotica are available at my BOOK SHOP

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow my 
English blog which I established in 2018:
laurenharteveld.com

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Facebook 
Twitter @LSHarteveld

 

A Day in the Bermuda Triangle

I was writing a post about how I lost a day to fear;  That s how intimidated I was by my own dreams, when my new shoes arrived. They didnt even charge for taking life to an entire new level of rock n roll.

I was writing this post about how I lost a day to fear;
That s how intimidated I was by my own dreams, when my new shoes arrived.
They didnt even charge for taking life to an entire new level of rock n roll.

It took a while before I understood why I lost a day.
Probably because the day before had been both hugely productive as well as flooded with social events, more than half of them unexpected ones.
I didn’t even know my social life was big enough, to cause such an avalanche of meaningful conversations and excitement on a Wednesday in January.

So trust me when I say, no one was more surprised than me that my Wednesday had been so action packed it was coming apart at the seams.
Or at least I was, the day after.

And I had been untrained for this!
January has been: J stands for Solitude.
And the delirious effects that has on one’s brain.

So when I, a writer, which is pretty much the modern day equivalent of a monk, was suddenly showered with advice, love, laughter, inspiration, truffle pizzas, and WINE – and I actually drank that for the second time within 5 days when I normally do not drink a drop – I didn’t look into why I had lost the next day because it was totally logical.
I had a splitting head ache from two glasses of white wine.
A mental shutdown because I had been interacting with four different people. My limit is one non-work related social interaction a day. 
And because I had been interacting for 10 hours straight.
So of course I lost Thursday.
Except?

No.

Something way more profound had happened.
Wednesday had been the perfect decoy to sabotage my entire plan of everything I wanted to do, and WOULD DO each and every day for the rest of my life, because I knew exactly what I wanted out of life.

Except for Thursday, when I woke up late, had a headache and felt like somebody had ripped my entire sense of purpose and self out of me and drowned it in Chardonnay.
But letting my Wednesday explode, and my Thursday being sucked down by its slip stream into the abyss, had been a GREAT way to cover up what had been going on beneath the surface:
That I was scared.

Over the past ten days or so, I have not just been consistently building the vision for my writing and book publishing business:
I have also set my first practical steps into curating my English work, under my real name.
Those are two websites that contain all my older English work.
One has – I think 40 posts on them or so;
They’re my first steps, although (of course) I was already writing as LS Harteveld.
And one blog which I started shortly after, which turned out to be a massive body of work.

If I didn’t write anything ever again, not for this account nor under my other name;
And if I would publish my books in orderly format
-not making them too thick or too long, but nicely cutting them to humane sizes,
each telling a good and solid story;

I would already have about 15 books.
All ready. All written. 

It’s ALL there.

I felt like someone who had inherited grandfather’s couch and found it stuffed with bundles of cash, and for a moment just wanted to put her head in the sand.
A few days of not knowing.
A few days of being normal.
And even started considering not using it, not telling anyone. And just let it sit there, or sneak it into your expenses without anybody ever knowing.
Just because I wasn’t ready to deal with the responsibility.

That was the process I was unconsciously going through.
I had already gone through something similar in 2019 when I started to take stock of all my LS Harteveld accounts, and its vaults. It had been so intimidating, that I found excuses to stop doing it.
Some excuses were valid:
2019 was a difficult year and I didn’t know what I wanted with my life/career/income.
I didn’t have the mental clarity and deep concentration curating this source material needed.
But now I do have clarity and the same thing happened, when I looked into the material for my other account:
I dropped out.
Sabotaged myself.

At surface level, it is all understandable and no emotion is attached to dropping out. Because HOW am I going to take care of all this, if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life tied to a desk? 

It wasn’t until today, when I woke up fresh and excited to enjoy my new life, and my newly rearranged house (done yesterday, in order to take back control) -
that I suddenly saw, that beneath me being fed up with all the solitude, and wanting to go out into the world to work, there was a real fear.

I was afraid of what I had found.

That my entire future plan, where I had my own business selling books but I also had a normal job where people didn’t know all that or didn’t care:
A job where I was just Lauren, with the stability of having my own successful business:
That future was within reach.
I had more to work with than most authors will create in a lifetime, and I kept writing and kept creating, even when I didn’t want to or thought something else should come first.

One of the movies I m currently looking into again is The Big Short, because Michael J. Burry is often used as an example of how autistic people feel.
How misunderstood, lonely, and our extreme levels of anxiety because we don’t fit in even when we try.
And even if you do make yourself useful, it is still no guarantee you will be accepted. 

From his letter to his investors

“For the past two years, my insides have felt like they’ve been eating themselves.
All the people that I respected won’t talk to me anymore, except through lawyers.
People want an authority to tell them how to value things, but they choose this authority not based on facts or results.
They choose it because it feels authoritative and familiar. And I am not, nor ever have been, “familiar.” So…so I have come to the sullen realization that I must close down the fund.
Sincerely,
Michael J. Burry, M.D.”
from the movie The Big Short

I ve had fear ruling my life until I stood up and faced it because what I wanted was more important than that. But it’s like an onion: Layered and the biggest fear comes first.
Which is the area in your life where you are most out of alignment, where you have made the biggest adjustment in order to work around your fear.

In 2006, I broke through the first layer of the onion. The dry discolored outer layer, that protects what’s inside but is not eatable.
What came from underneath was my own, newly developed love life.
And although there have been different levels of going through that, I feel what I’m going through with my books is about something else.
It’s about business. It’s about money. It’s about being visible and bringing those manuscripts from their digital vaults, into the open where they can be read.

What Michael J.Burry’s letter, my fear to develop my love life, and my current resistance to becoming a successful writer all have in common, is that they are all social phobias:
They’re a deeply rooted fear of being cast aside, to no longer be part of society and to really no longer know enough people to see a Wednesday in January hijacked by social interactions, because they’re all gone, and no one talks to you except through lawyers or because they need your money.

I lost one day to fear.
This was not the Wednesday, where I saw too many people.
But the Thursday, because I chose to go so all-in and drink on Wednesday, went to bed too late, so that I needed a day to recover.

And it happened because for ten days or so, I had not been taking notice of those voices of fear in my head, and had brushed them off way too lightly.
Until they needed alcohol to be shut down.

But I choose to see losing that day, as an investment in myself. I needed that day offline, off-life, off-habit tracking to make a conscious choice:
“Am I really ready for this? Am I ready to face the consequences?”

There is a quote, some say it is from Mohammed Ali, some say from Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, and others say it is anonymous:

 “If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough”

I second that.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

My diaries en erotica are available at my BOOK SHOP

coming soon: new books 

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020 

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow my 
English blog which I established in 2018:
laurenharteveld.com

Nederlands blog:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Facebook 
Twitter @LSHarteveld

if-your-dreams-dont-scare-you-theyre-not-big-enough