In Maybe You Should Talk To Someone, I found my innermost thoughts, buried up until now, resurface and paraded out in the open. The vulnerability of peeling one’s own self in front of a stranger, to have them gently poke through the litany of feelings and to understand that they’re valid and worthy of existing encompass the idea behind this book.
There’s a difference between pain and suffering. You’re going to have to feel pain–everyone feels pain at times,–but you don’t have to suffer so much. You’re not choosing the pain, but you’re choosing the suffering.
We get to peek into psychotherapist Lori’s world, through her patients we see life play out in different forms, through their interactions we see how pain and misery paired together drown our hopes but we also learn to overcome our troubles, to not be defined by our problems and find an escape route. The duality of the novel isn’t lost on the reader; it reinstates the belief in seeking help, in knowing one’s not untouchable. Perhaps the biggest twist in the book, one that’s a pretty obvious plot, is Lori seeking therapy when her own life falls apart. This, according to me, transforms the reading experience into a more intimate setting where the author, despite being the provider, allows us to accept one’s fragility, dismantling the existing stereotypes about therapy and painting an almost voyeuristic picture of the workings therapy.
I can see why May You Should Talk To Someone struck a chord with many a readers; it provides a blueprint into other people’s lives which helps us understand and live vicariously through them, pulling us into a whirlwind of emotions where we’re forced to confront our own fears, our deepest insecurity and maybe, offer a glimpse to get to know ourselves better.
Once we know where what we’re feeling, we can make choices about where we want to go with them. But if we push them away the second they appear, often we end up veering off in the wrong direction, getting lost yet again in the land of chaos.