Lori Gottlieb knew pain.
She’d made a career out of it as a therapist.
Sitting across from people who didn’t know what to do, where to turn, or how to keep going.
They’d spill their stories, their sorrows, their secrets, and she’d sit there, listening, nodding, showing them the map to make sense of it all.
But this—this—was different.
Her boyfriend, the man she’d counted on, trusted, the one she thought she’d share her future with, walked out of her life.
Just like that.
No warning.
One day, he was just standing there in the doorway, saying he had to go.
And then he was gone.
She didn’t understand it.
She couldn’t believe it.
It was like someone pulled the rug right out from under her, left her sitting on the cold floor, wondering how she’d ended up there.
Lori was heartbroken.
Hurt.
Angry.
She didn’t understand how someone she’d trusted could just walk away.
So, naturally, she painted him in her mind as the one who’d done her wrong.
She felt it deeply—that he was selfish, careless.
It made sense that way, didn’t it?
The feelings felt big, real, and in that moment, they were her truth.
But no matter how much she tried to make sense of it, the pain lingered.
So, she did something she wasn’t used to doing.
She sought out help.
She went to Wendell, another therapist, someone who she hoped could listen to her story the way she had listened to so many others.
Wendell listened with a patience she hadn’t expected.
When she finished, he paused, leaned forward, and asked gently, “What if those feelings aren’t facts?”
Lori’s mind came to a halt.
Not facts?
Her feelings were real—she felt them in her chest, her mind, her very bones.
But Wendell’s words lingered, like a little seed, taking root.
In the days that followed, Lori allowed herself to explore that question.
She began to wonder if maybe her feelings—big as they were—didn’t have to be the final word on her story.
Maybe her ex wasn’t a villain; maybe he’s just human, like her, tangled up in his own knots.
Maybe her feelings were leading her to see something she’d missed about herself.
Slowly, the anger started to soften.
Lori realized that her feelings, strong as they were, didn’t have to define the truth.
They were just part of her journey, helping her look deeper, helping her understand herself in a new way.
And with that, Lori felt lighter, as though she’d set down a heavy load she’d been carrying for far too long.
Because sometimes, letting go of the story we tell ourselves opens the door to a new beginning.
And for Lori, that was where the healing truly began.
Lori’s story isn’t just about a breakup.
It’s about that moment when feelings come crashing down on you, like a weight you can’t shake, when they try to convince you they’re all there is.
That’s the lesson here, for all of us.
Feelings, they’re important—they’ll tell you things about yourself.
But here’s the truth: feelings aren’t facts.
They’re snapshots of a moment in time, little markers of where you are, not where you’re going.
If you can stop, even just for a second, and ask yourself, What am I really seeing here? you open up room for something else.
Space to understand, to heal. Maybe even to forgive.
Lori’s story shows us that when you let go of the need to turn feelings into facts, you don’t just survive—you grow.
You learn.
You give yourself a shot at something better, something lighter.
And that’s when you get to move forward, free to write a new ending.
This post was inspired by Lori Gottlieb’s book, Maybe You Should Talk To Someone.