Quotes on Being Human (Maybe You Should Talk To Someone by Lori Gottlieb)

Hello, dear friend! I’ve been quiet here for about two weeks because I was, honestly speaking, having a tough time thinking about what to write. And also, in that process, thinking to myself that writing is a process, sometimes it doesn’t matter about what I write! Plus, I’m writing this to make writing a habit, not to push out specific content anyway.

Okay, but I’m rambling. I just finished Lori Gottlieb’s Maybe You Should Talk To Someone, a book centered around therapy. I believe that in recent years, therapy has gained much attention in Singapore due to a raised awareness of the pain many of us feel in a rather conservative society. The increased notion of self-care and corresponding self-awareness of where/when we hurt/feel great also leads to this phenomenon. However, while Singaporean youths (such as those in The Smart Local here) try to embrace the idea of being human and having human-related problems (!), many of us are probably still not aware of why we do what we do many a time.

This is where I feel ‘Maybe You Should Talk To Someone’ sheds light on. Gottlieb, a therapist herself, writes about not just her patients’ journeys with therapy, but also her own journey with therapy. She writes in an almost fiction-like, narrative manner, making it a rather easy, but extremely descriptive and relatable read.

As I read this book, I found myself furiously highlighting whole paragraphs of her analyses of why her patients/herself expressed themselves through such actions. While each patient has their own distinctive personality, I couldn’t help but relate to certain traits and actions of theirs. In this post, I’ll share some quotes from the book, that are, very simply put, on being human.

On being dealt a bad hand in life

What people don’t like to think about is that you can do everything right — in life or in a treatment protocol — and still get the short end of the stick. And when that happens, the only control you have is how you deal with that stick — your way, not the way others say you should.

On our feelings, and what they should be

“Your feelings don’t have to mesh with what you think they should be,” he explained. “They’ll be there regardless, so you might as well welcome them because they hold important clues.”

“You’re so focused on being a good dad,” I say to John, “but maybe part of being a good dad is allowing yourself the full range of human emotions, of really living, even if living fully can sometimes be harder than not.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” — On inner conflict

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she’d ask, and I’d assure her that everyone who comes to therapy worries that what they think or feel might not be “normal” or “good,” and yet it’s our honesty with ourselves that helps us make sense of our lives with all of their nuances and complexity. Repress those thoughts, and you’ll likely behave “badly.” Acknowledge them, and you’ll grow.

On difficult childhoods and entangling our adult identities

It’s solely about understanding how their early experiences inform who they are as adults so that they can separate the past from the present (and not wear psychological clothing that no longer fits).

On the inner workings of demanding, critical, and angry people

I know, for example, that people who are demanding, critical, and angry tend to suffer from intense loneliness. I know that a person who acts this way both wants to be seen and is terrified of being seen. I believe that for John, the experience of being vulnerable feels pathetic and shameful — and I’m guessing that he somehow got the message not to show “weakness” at six years old when his mother died. If he spends any time at all with his emotions, they likely overwhelm him, so he projects them onto others as anger, derision, or criticism. That’s why patients like John are especially challenging: they’re masters at getting your goat — all in the service of deflection.

On losses

There’s the fact that losses tend to be multilayered. There’s the actual loss (in my case, of Boyfriend), and the underlying loss (what it represents).

Losing somebody you love is such a profoundly lonely experience, something only you endure in your own particular way.

On ourselves being the biggest barriers to our own freedom

“I’m reminded,” he begins, “of a famous cartoon. It’s of a prisoner, shaking the bars, desperately trying to get out — but to his right and left, it’s open, no bars.” He pauses, allowing the image to sink in. “All the prisoner has to do is walk around. But still, he frantically shakes the bars. That’s most of us. We feel completely stuck, trapped in our emotional cells, but there’s a way out — as long as we’re willing to see it.”

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances. (…) Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

What is the opposite of Depression?

“The opposite of depression isn’t happiness, but vitality.”

We squander away our extra time

Erich Fromm had made this point more than fifty years earlier: “Modern man thinks he loses something — time — when he does not do things quickly; yet he does not know what to do with the time he gains except kill it.” Fromm was right; people didn’t use extra time earned to relax or connect with friends or family. Instead, they tried to cram more in.

On running away from being with ourselves

I noticed that before patients even reached the door at the end of the session, they’d grab their phones and start scrolling through their messages. Wouldn’t their time have been better spent allowing themselves just one more minute to reflect on what we had just talked about or to mentally reset and transition back to the world outside? The second people felt alone, I noticed, usually in the space between things — leaving a therapy session, at a red light, standing in a checkout line, riding the elevator — they picked up devices and ran away from that feeling. In a state of perpetual distraction, they seemed to be losing the ability to be with others and losing their ability to be with themselves.

On the what ifs

At a certain point, we all have to come to terms with the unknown and the unknowable. Sometimes we’ll never know why.

On parents being jealous of their children

Rita envied her children. Rita wasn’t unusual in this. Take the case of a mother who came from a household with little money and who now admonishes her child every time she gets a new pair of shoes or a new toy by saying, “Don’t you realize how lucky you are?” A gift wrapped in a criticism.
Why do parents do this? Often, they envy their children’s childhoods — the opportunities they have; the financial or emotional stability that the parents provide; the fact that their children have their whole lives ahead of them, a stretch of time that’s now in the parents’ pasts. They strive to give their children all the things they themselves didn’t have, but they sometimes end up, without even realizing it, resenting the kids for their good fortune.

Who are you apologizing for?

Forgiveness is a tricky thing, in the way that apologies can be. Are you apologizing because it makes you feel better or because it will make the other person feel better? Are you sorry for what you’ve done or are you simply trying to placate the other person who believes you should be sorry for the thing you feel completely justified in having done? Who is the apology for?

On the ‘hierarchy of pain’ — Whose pain is more justified?

“At least I don’t have cancer,” she’d say, but that’s also a phrase that healthy people use to minimize their own suffering.

(…)

There’s no hierarchy of pain. Suffering shouldn’t be ranked, because pain is not a contest.

(…)

You can’t get through your pain by diminishing it, he reminded me. You get through your pain by accepting it and figuring out what to do with it. You can’t change what you’re denying or minimizing. And, of course, often what seem like trivial worries are manifestations of deeper ones.

On hurting the people we care about

I explained to her that even in the best possible relationship, you’re going to get hurt sometimes, and no matter how much you love somebody, you will at times hurt that person, not because you want to, but because you’re human. You will inevitably hurt your partner, your parents, your children, your closest friend — and they will hurt you — because if you sign up for intimacy, getting hurt is part of the deal.

On why we are afraid to try

I thought about how many people avoid trying for things they really want in life because it’s more painful to get close to the goal but not achieve it than not to have taken the chance in the first place.

Wow, that was 21 quotes on being human. Hopefully you enjoyed these excerpts as much as I did, and they helped you in some way to become more at peace with yourself and the people around you! I would highly recommend this to anyone who has ever gone for, or even just contemplated, therapy, and also to those who have gone through dark, difficult times you thought you could never get out of.

I’m currently trying to get back into the habit of reading books and writing more (thus the book reviews)! I have been relatively successful so far. If you’re curious, you can view my reading progress on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/tankityung