The Secret Lives Of Therapists

Ever wonder what she’s thinking— and writing on that clipboard? L.A. psychotherapist Lori Gottlieb tells all.

- Lori Gottlieb

WHEN I TELL PEOPLE what I do for a living, I brace myself for awkwardness. “A therapist! Should I spill my guts about my childhood?” People who say that are kidding—but also not. Then there’s “Can you help me with my mother-in-law problem?” And “Are you going to psychoanalyze me?” (The answers, by the way, are “Please don’t,” “Possibly,” and “Why would I do that here? If I were a gynecologist, would you ask whether I was about to give you a pelvic exam?”)

Of course, I understand the curiosity. Before I got my clinical psychology degree and started seeing patients ten years ago, I wondered about my own therapist: What’s going through her head as she listens to me talk about the thoughts swirling in mine? Is she judging me? Does she like me? Are there things she isn’t telling me—about me? Wait, did she just stifle a yawn? Therapists can be as confounding as they are helpful. So pull up a chair, and let’s chat about what everybody wants to know.

“How do you decide what personal information to share?”