Lori Gottlieb

3 MILLION COPIES! 🥳 🎉 What strikes me most isn’t the number, but the reminder that we’re all trying to make sense of our lives—and that when we tell the truth about them, we make it easier for others to tell theirs. Many of you might not know that when I proposed to publishers a book about five people in therapy--one of whom was ME, the therapist--they said, "We love your writing, we love your proposal, but nobody's going to read a book about people in therapy." And I said, "Well, if even ONE person's life changes after reading this, then that's good enough for me." (As anyone who's read this book knows, I was supposed to be writing a book about *happiness*... but, weirdly, writing that book made me, um, *depressed*) I wanted to write something very funny and sometimes sad and always real and hopeful - because that's what I have the honor of seeing as a therapist and I wanted more people to see this exquisite paradox of being human too. The first week #MaybeYouShouldTalkToSomeone came out, it immediately hit the New York Times bestseller list. It stayed there for so long I don't even remember the exact timing. All I can say is, I didn’t imagine that 3 million of you would take it into your bedrooms, your book clubs, and even your own therapy sessions. But you did - and you keep telling me and posting about how meaningful this book has been for you, how you've bought copies for your friends and family members (maybe THAT's how we reached 3 million?), and how you saw yourself reflected in the stories of John, Julie, Rita, Charlotte and, of course, Wendell and me... and that our stories live inside you now too. Thank you for showing that we DO need these stories... more than ever... and remember that when you hear "no" but everything inside you screams "yes" - do it anyway. You might end up with our own version of 3 million.

Before you work on communication, ask a more useful question: What are the consequences in this relationship when someone tells the truth? And if the answer is “punishment,” then the problem isn’t communication. It’s safety.

So you do what people do when something doesn’t feel safe: you edit. You soften. You hint. You make it sound like it doesn’t matter. And then you call the result a “misunderstanding.”

When couples tell me they have “communication issues,” it’s usually not about vocabulary.

🎧 Listen to #DearTherapists, “Haley’s Perfect Sister” ➡️ podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/enc… If you grew up being compared, what role did you get cast in—and how is it still showing up today?

In this #DearTherapists session, Haley is struggling in the shadow of a sister who seems to do everything “right.” We talk about what comparison does over time—and what it looks like to step out of a role that was never yours to carry.

In families, roles can get assigned early. The “responsible one.” The “mess.” The “easy child.” The “perfect one.” And once a family has a story about who you are, it can be surprisingly hard to edit it.

If you want to see how people move through their silent grief—of all kinds—pick up a copy of MAYBE YOU SHOULD TALK TO SOMEONE: amzn.to/3404926

This is true for everyone I write about in MAYBE YOU SHOULD TALK TO SOMEONE: John, Julie, Rita, Charlotte… and me. What grief in your life is “allowed” and which feels invisible to others?

You might be going through something that feels enormous… while everyone around you is treating it like a speed bump.

The question is not only “Can I show up?” It’s: “What kind of presence can I offer genuinely?” Read this week’s advice @nytimes: bit.ly/4ws3pv2 Submit your question: askthetherapist@nytimes.com Subscribe to the column: bit.ly/4mZtJaN

Sometimes the most meaningful way to honor someone is not to force yourself into a version of support that leaves you resentful, depleted, or emotionally absent. A letter can be presence. A private celebration can be presence. An honest conversation can be presence.

Do you have to go to a friend’s second wedding if you’re in pain over years of being single and weddings leave you gutted? We often treat presence as a binary: you were there, or you weren’t. But relationships are more nuanced than attendance.

What do you say when you actually mean something more vulnerable? If you want to peek inside the therapy room and see how people make meaningful changes, read my book, MAYBE YOU SHOULD TALK TO SOMEONE: amzn.to/3404926

"I'm bad at relationships." Translation: "I'm scared I'm unlovable."

Do any of these sound familiar? ⬇️ "I don't need anyone." Translation: "Needing people has disappointed me before."