And we sit beside Lori herself who, after a less than spectacular breakup, takes her turn on the couch across from her therapist, Wendell. We learn of the newlywed who’s just been diagnosed with cancer. We watch as she counsels a man who blames all his problems on the “idiots” who surround him. In short chapters that are as funny as they are compassionate, Lori Gottlieb gives readers an inside look at a phenomenon that’s often kept hidden: what goes on behind a therapist’s closed doors. If I could hit my younger self over the head with a copy of Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, I would have learned this lesson a lot sooner. It wasn’t until I moved to NYC-where, to quote Sex and the City’s Stanford Blatch, “even the shrinks have shrinks”-that I learned just how common and not-scary going to therapy can be. Like sharing your weight or how many days it’d been since you’d last washed your jeans, admitting that you visited a therapist was pretty much taboo. Growing up, I didn’t know anyone who went to therapy-by which I mean, I didn’t know anyone who talked about going to therapy.
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