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This is a CandleX community project. Since CandleX was founded in 2015, we have seen members of Beijing community within our Mental Health Peer Support group in intimate violent relationships struggle to access help. Our peer‑support groups offered support for this group of people. In 2021, psychotherapist/counsellor Xiaojie Qin co‑launched ProjectA with Megan Purvis from the United States, providing group and individual counselling for people who have left abusive intimate relationships. Built upon community financial support, service fee concessions and reduced‑fee client participation, the project created an affordable service pathway to accompany people impacted by relational harm through inner adjustment. For our past work on intimate‑partner abuse, please refer to: Abusive Relationship work at CandleX 自2015 年 CandleX 成立以来，我们在社区支持小组中见证了许多身处虐待型亲密关系中的幸存者难以获得帮助，我们的心理互助小组为这部分人群提供支持。2021 年，心理咨询师秦小杰与来自美国的 Megan Purvis在北京联合发起 Project A，为走出虐待型亲密关系的人群提供团体及个体心理咨询服务。 项目依托社区资金支持、咨询师费用让利、来访低价参与的模式，搭建可负担的服务通道，陪伴经历关系伤害的伙伴开展内在调整关于亲密关系暴力，我们过往开展的相关工作可以参阅： CandleX虐待亲密关系后支持工作 In terms of grief and loss, unexpected deaths have occurred within Beijing’s international community. Death and separation are universal human experiences. Our corresponding support work was launched in 2024 with a limited number of service spots available each year. Over years of practice, we have accompanied many community members through difficult life phases and hope to keep offering this form of mental‑health support to the community, including family members bereaved by suicide, young adults mourning the passing of grandparents, and teengers coping with the death of parents. 而哀伤与丧失议题方面，北京国际社区偶有意外离世事件，死亡与离别是每个人终将面对的人生课题。对应支持自 2024 年启动，每年开放若干服务名额。经过多年实践，我们陪伴了许多社区成员度过艰难的人生阶段，也希望持续为社区提供这类心理支持，其中包括因亲人离世（自杀）而承受丧亲之痛的家属、哀悼祖父母离世的青年，以及面对父母逝去的青少年。 After years of intermittent practice, we continue to observe steady community demand for these two types of services. As a result, individual counselling for grief and loss, and individual counselling for survivors post‑abusive relationships are now long-term rolling reduced‑fee programmes, delivered by psychotherapist Xiaojie Qin. 经过多年断断续续的实践，我们持续观察到社区对以上两类服务稳定的需求。因此，哀伤丧失个体咨询与虐待关系相关个体咨询，现在转为长期滚动开放的低价项目，由心理咨询师秦小杰提供咨询服务。 Project Information Two separate individual counselling streams are available: Individual Counselling for Grief & Loss Individual Counselling for Survivors Post-Abusive Relationships Counsellor: Xiaojie Qin Eligibility: Open to all Chinese and international participants residing in or outside of China Format: 8 sessions of individual counselling Client Fee: 400 CNY per 50-minute session Quota: 2 spots available for each stream every six months, 8 spots per year Language: Chinese, English, or mixed bilingual sessions Funding: The programme is supported by client fees, reduced rates offered by the counsellor, and community financial support. Registration & Screening Rules Applications are accepted on a first-come, first-served basis. If applications exceed available slots, priority will be given to the following groups: Community members who cannot afford full market rates for counseling, including low-income individuals and those experiencing temporary unemployment International residents with limited local access to trauma-informed English-speaking mental health support To apply, please email info@candlex.cn, or contact our project coordinator via WeChat. Simply share your interest in the program. CandleX低价咨询项目详情 本项目包含两条独立的个体咨询通道： 哀伤与丧失个体咨询 脱离虐待关系后个体咨询 心理咨询师：秦小杰 服务人群：面向境内、境外所有中国及外籍人士开放 服务形式：个体咨询，共8次 来访支付费用：400元 / 50 分钟（次） 名额设置：每个项目每半年开放2个名额，全年4个名额 咨询语言：中文、英文、中英双语混合均可 资金支持：项目费用由来访付费、咨询师费用让利，以及社区捐赠共同支撑。 报名与筛选规则 报名以先到先得为原则。当报名人数超出剩余名额时，我们将优先考虑以下人群： 暂时难以承担市场全额心理咨询费用的社区成员，包括低收入群体和暂时失业状态群体 在本地较难寻找到创伤知情、英文心理咨询资源的外籍人士 如果你希望报名，可以发送邮件至info@candlex.cn，或者联系项目协调员添加微信，简单告知你的意向即可 Community Donation Support We welcome community partners to consider supporting this project, to expand the reach of our reduced-fee services and make support accessible to more community members in need. Individuals and groups interested in providing funding may reach out to us (via Summer’s WeChat account above) for further information. 社区资助说明 我们欢迎社区伙伴考虑资助本项目，扩大低价服务可覆盖的人群，让更多有需要的社区成员有机会获得支持。欢迎有资助意向的社区个人和团体联系我们（添加上面Summer的微信号），获取更多详情。

This article is presented in English first, followed by the Chinese translation. | 本文前半部分为英文全文，完整中文翻译在文章后半部分。 The very first word that came to mind when I heard Sabina Brady's (白思南) story was "pioneer." To this day, many, myself included, continue to benefit from the foundations she laid in Beijing all those years ago, most of us without ever realizing it. That understanding came to me through years of working alongside the Western Academy of Beijing. I have always deeply respected the school and the tremendous value it brings to the community. It was only recently that I learned Sabina is in fact one of its key founders. And co-founding WAB, it turns out, is just one of the meaningful contributions Sabina has made in her forty-plus years here in China. Throughout this time, Sabina has given much to China, while China, in turn, has profoundly shaped her. Now, let's hear her story in her own words. Xiaojie Qin Psychotherapist, Director of CandleX Sabina in 2025 while volunteering at an event supporting a community-based elder care social enterprise in Beijing. Made in China: Forty Years of Change, Choice, and Consequence Adapted from a talk by Sabina Brady for 我们 for Women, Beijing, June 4, 2026 Author: Sabina Brady Editorial Feedback: Xiaojie Qin, Sharon Liu Time: Aug 28, 2026 All photos courtesy of Sabina Brady In 1979, just out of college and in my early twenties, I turned down a law school acceptance to take a one-year job in Beijing for USD 3,000, round-trip airfare, room and board, and a bicycle. I had never lived abroad before. My Chinese, despite what I had implied in my resume, amounted to one intensive summer course at Middlebury College taken right before I left for China. I had been hired privately by a US diplomat, the deputy chief of mission at the newly established American Embassy in Beijing, to coordinate his household entertainment and manage the staff: a butler, a cook, and two cleaning ayis, none of whom spoke English. I also watched over his children and taught at the tiny Embassy school of less than a dozen students. It would just be for one year. By then, I should have more of an idea of what I wanted to do with my life. At least that was my plan. The Beijing of 1979 would be unrecognizable today. It was before the fancy hotels, a prosperous middle class, and high-speed everything. It was much poorer and more tightly controlled, but where surveillance was human rather than digital. The advantage of my being privately employed was that unlike my diplomat employer, I was not bound by all the rules that governed his movements and activities. In my off-hours I went where he could not: on my bicycle, into neighborhoods and situations I had no real business being in, with language skills barely adequate for what I kept attempting anyway. His sole request was that I not embarrass him or the Embassy. In one of my suitcases, I had packed my flute and a collection of chamber music scores. They became my entree into the world of students at the Central Conservatory of Music. Among China's most gifted young musicians, they knew the western classical repertoire intimately, having found ways to listen to recordings despite years of restricted access. What they lacked was the chance to actually play it themselves, especially chamber music. My scores gave them that. Every week we made music together across divides that almost everything else around us was designed to maintain. Through our music, friendships formed, and I began to understand something about what China held beneath its surface that no briefing or guidebook had prepared me for. At the end of my year, I discovered that I did not want to leave. I did not know precisely why, but something had formed, not a plan or a vision, but a strong attachment to a place that was stranger and more compelling than anything I had encountered before. I was not ready to put it all down, but my application to stay on as a teacher at a Chinese institute was rejected. I had no choice but to go home. Back in the US, I was now considered something of a China expert by US companies eager to understand a country they wanted to do business with. My expertise rested on one year of lived China experience and now just-functional Mandarin Chinese. The irony was not lost on me. Leveraging this newly acquired ‘expert’ status, I wrangled an offer to set up and run the China office of a Chicago-based multinational corporation. A little over three years after my reluctant departure in the late summer of 1980, I was on a plane back to Beijing, this time to stay. The life that followed was anything but a straight line, shaped by moments I did not always choose, at junctures I did not anticipate, and by decisions that were either mine to make or, by default, would be made for me. In what follows, I explore some of those moments, what they felt like, what they cost, and what they returned, sometimes years later, unexpectedly, and often when it mattered most. ◆　◆　◆ The first came in the late 1980s. By then I had earned my stripes as a corporate executive, VP level, directing Greater China operations and navigating the politics of two global acquisitions and a merger, while achieving China sales results that drew the attention of the new global CEO and board. I had also married and become a mother of two, a son in 1985 and then a daughter three years later. Both were born at the Peking Union Medical College Hospital (PUMC), long before any joint-venture western hospitals existed, the same hospital where my husband's two younger sisters had also been born in the early 1950s. My husband arrived in China as a small toddler just after the country’s founding in 1949. He was the son of a world-renowned Filipino-Overseas Chinese scientist who gave up an international career for the socialist cause, and a Caucasian American mother who had never traveled to Asia before. Of mixed heritage and steeped in the glories of New China, my husband viewed himself as Chinese, although he was never quite seen as such by others. Left: Cutting the wedding cake, Washington, D.C., December 1982. Right: An early autumn outing at the Ming Tombs with our two children, early 1990s. Our son Joseph was bright but learned differently, in ways the Beijing of that time had no capacity to accommodate. Fully bilingual, and having thrived in Chinese nursery and kindergarten, his first years in primary school were brutal, for him and for us. We faced three options: homeschool, return to the US where resources and extended family awaited, or create in Beijing the kind of school he needed, knowing it did not yet exist. The rational case for returning to the US was strong. Joseph's needs were real and urgent. I had no background in education, no experience in setting up, much less running, schools, and China had no regulatory framework permitting what we were imagining. My corporate career would not survive the type of school project I was contemplating. The sensible choice was clear. And yet, again, I was unwilling to leave. So, anxiously, with full awareness that I might be wrong, and knowing that while I might revisit this choice, neither Joseph nor I would ever be able to return to where we started, I jumped. Before I left my corporate role, I did one thing that became the first manifestation of something I have tried to live by since: that the measure of what we build is in how well it continues to thrive after we leave. After securing formal board approval, I spent months mentoring a Chinese national colleague to take over, ensuring that what had been built would continue in hands that were perhaps even more capable than my own. Leaving my corporate career was, I must admit, its own particular kind of loss. Then came the effort to establish what would become the Western Academy of Beijing, or WAB. As I grappled with my son’s schooling needs, Beijing’s fast-growing foreign community was facing its own crisis: a dearth of available school places for their children. The obvious solution was to build and expand on Beijing’s small number of existing diplomatic mission schools. These schools each offered their own national curriculum and pedagogy, with preferential placement given to the children of their own diplomats and nationals. But, we did not want that. We dreamed of a truly international, learner-centered school, independent of any single national system or its pedagogy, grounded in China, and open to all learners. The surging demand for school places, particularly from both diplomatic and non-diplomatic national families beyond the five English-speaking missions, gave us the opportunity to pursue just that. Starting in May 1993, despite having no campus, funding, license, or regulatory framework permitting what we were attempting, we built a diverse community of prospective parents, educators, business executives, diplomatic leaders, and local and central officials. Together, we worked out how to meet an urgent shared need in a way that was entirely, and deliberately, our own. The result was a school where all learners were welcome and could thrive, including, finally, my son. Everything we accomplished required learning how to overcome obstacles we had never imagined, let alone encountered. It meant trusting those around the table to bring what was needed, even in the absence of a clear path forward. Built by people who had never envisioned themselves as school founders, and joined by those who simply shared the dream, WAB worked, and still works over three decades later, not despite the difficulties of its founding but because of them. Above: Before and after retrofitting WAB’s first home -- the leased facilities (administrative buildings) of a near bankrupt state-owned factory; map of WAB’s location, inside the grounds of the factory, and just outside the northeast 4th Ring Road; preparing the field and laying grass; WAB’s original logo and signage. Below: Opening Day September 1, 1994, at WAB’s first campus -- ribbon cutting, touring the school with Chinese officials, celebratory banquet; WAB’s name and logo on the main building; children and families. And so, I left my corporate career, choosing my family and choosing China. Over the years that followed, this same instinct would reassert itself, not identically, but with its own unmistakable rhymes. Each effort left its own mark, often invisible at the time, with the returns, when they came, rarely what I had expected, and sometimes far beyond what I had even dared to imagine. ◆　◆　◆ After WAB opened its doors in 1994 I began my own consulting, mentoring, and capacity-building work with Chinese NGOs and foundations. I found I loved it, though I set it aside a few years later when I was asked to oversee WAB's new campus design, land acquisition, and build-out. I still have a bamboo hardhat as a memento of those years. Realizing WAB's dream of leaving its rented facilities in a nearly-bankrupt, state-owned factory for a purpose-built home was, again, a whole-of-community effort, making possible the innovative nursery through Grade 12 international school that WAB is today. WAB’s purpose-built campus and new N-G12 facilities: opening day ribbon cutting in August 2000; laying the foundation stone; topping out celebrations; and WAB’s new logo. Once WAB’s new campus was built in the early 2000s, I found myself at another of those junctures. WAB no longer needed me in the same way, and I needed a new role and purpose. I had been out of the corporate world too long to go back, and besides, I already knew how to build sales and service networks, negotiate technology transfers, and set up joint ventures. I needed something new, something that carried the same spirit of creative and collaborative problem-solving that WAB had demanded. What came next arrived, as things tend to in my life, from an entirely unexpected direction. Seemingly out of the blue, I received a call from the donor behind the Clinton Foundation's China HIV/AIDS Initiative. He was looking for a founding country head and had been pointed in my direction by a former colleague of mine from my earlier Washington DC days. We had stayed in touch over the intervening decades through exchanges of news and China visits, though I had no idea he and the donor were close, or that he had recommended me. My China Office team for the US multinational corporation, Gould Electronics, that later was acquired by AEG, and then Groupe Schneider. Back in the early 1980s, finding a job that would return me to China had not been easy. Formal bilateral relations had only just been re-established, and the professional pathways into the country were quite limited. I finally found one in early 1981: a position at a Washington DC trade association helping US companies enter China. Two and a half years later, one of the association's member companies hired me to set up and run their China operations from Beijing. What I could not have known was that the collegial friendship I had formed at that trade association would, over the coming years and without my knowledge, quietly carry news of my work to the Clinton Foundation donor, and lead to a China-based public health opportunity I could never have dreamed of. By the early 2000s, my years building the multinational's China operations and then co-founding WAB had given me the bona fides to make the case for the Clinton Foundation position. I said yes. I stepped into the role at a time when China was in the middle of a national HIV/AIDS epidemic it had been slow to acknowledge. Its public health infrastructure had no capacity to diagnose, care for, or treat this infectious, life-threatening disease. An HIV diagnosis was a death sentence. The social stigma surrounding it was so severe that sufferers hid their condition, which in turn fueled the epidemic’s spread. In response, the Chinese government invited the Clinton Foundation to help design, pilot, and embed a comprehensive care and treatment system into its public health infrastructure, from the central government down to the village level, covering drug procurement, treatment protocols, and point-of-care diagnosis. If it worked, our partnership would turn a death sentence into a manageable, chronic disease, give sufferers their lives back, and help contain the epidemic. Our work was challenging. I had no public health background or medical training. My team was a disparate group of Western doctors and nurses with deep expertise in the disease but no China experience. The populations with the highest HIV prevalence came from marginalized and legally vulnerable groups, making access difficult and sensitive. Funding was tight relative to the scale of what needed doing. Our government partners were often visibly uncomfortable with the disease and with our involvement. The travel was relentless, to provinces and villages far from Beijing, including Henan and Hubei in the center, Sichuan, Yunnan and Guangxi in the south, and Xinjiang in China’s far northwest. Decisions had to be made without precedent or playbook, and I could not always tell whether what we were doing was working. What kept us going was the clarity of our mission, the human side of the people we treated and gave hope to, and the perceptions of those around them that we helped to change. But did we make a difference? The Clinton Foundation Health Access Initiative's first program focused on partnering with national governments to address the global HIV/AIDS epidemic. These two Chinese press articles detail some of the Foundation’s work in Yunnan and Henan. Years later, in a private meeting with the Ministry of Health, we learned that although the Clinton Foundation had contributed far less funding than any other foreign agency, our partnership had achieved the greatest impact for China's HIV/AIDS sufferers and for the prospect of containing the epidemic. What I had not anticipated was what the work gave back to me in relationships built across years of shared effort. They became some of my deepest friendships. This is the kind of return you cannot plan for and do not see coming. In 2008, I received another invitation I had no obvious qualifications to accept. The China heads of Boeing and Cummins Engine asked me to design, launch, and lead a non-profit public-private consortium focused on the world's two largest carbon emitters, with the purpose of advancing commercial-scale clean energy solutions. It would be funded by US companies, include Chinese ones, and operate in formal partnership with both governments. The commercial sector would lead while the governments would only support, not the other way around. Making this work meant enlisting the most senior leaders across every stakeholder group to facilitate, fund, and formally recognize what we were building. The result was the US-China Energy Cooperation Program, or ECP, formally launched in late 2009 by both countries' presidents at the Great Hall of the People during the newly elected US president's first state visit to China. ECP worked for the same reasons WAB and the Clinton Foundation partnership had worked. People with genuine stakes in a shared purpose, operating under real constraints, making real choices, came together to build something none of them could have built alone. ECP did not survive the deterioration in US-China relations. But for the many years it functioned, its impact was real, and many of the relationships formed remain strong today. Left: Page 1 of a US-China business magazine article detailing ECP’s success and accomplishments after first full year. Top, Middle: US President Obama and PRC President Hu Jintao during President Obama’s November 2009 state visit to the PRC where the two presidents jointly announced the formation and bilateral government endorsement of ECP at Beijing’s Great Hall of the People. Middle: ECP logo. Right Side, Top: Founding US corporate members of ECP at its inaugural meeting in 2009. Right Side, Bottom: Major US corporate members at the end of Year 2. After ECP, I returned full time to the philanthropy sector work I had begun in the 1990s: co-founding a non-profit peer-learning platform to support China’s emerging philanthropic foundations, providing capacity building to Chinese NGOs, and continuing in board and advisory roles across education and civil society. The work was quieter than what had preceded it, and less visible, but no less consequential for those it served. The underlying logic and approach never changed. Middle: Preparing to say a few remarks at the Beijing celebration of the London Book Fair’s 2024 launch of the English language edition of “Happiness in Being Ordinary” by Yao Li (on left), entrepreneur, philanthropist, educator, and founder of a network of charity vocational schools (I was the chief translator for the book). Left & Right: Engaging in organizational and educational capacity-building and support work. Looking back across those thirty-plus years of institution-building and philanthropic work, what strikes me most is not what was built but how. Each time, the work began the same way: find the people who cared, or could be persuaded to care about the problem, bring them together, and trust that what emerged would be better than anything any one of us could do alone. That was as true of a group of Beijing parents with no school to send their children to, as it was of doctors, government officials, and patients trying to stop an epidemic, of energy executives trying to bridge a bilateral divide, or of Chinese foundation leaders and NGO practitioners putting sustained organized philanthropy to work for their country. The communities were different. The problems were different. The ripples each sent outward were different, and often far larger than anyone sitting in those rooms could anticipate. But the approach was always the same. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, without my fully realizing it, those communities became mine as much as I became theirs. ◆　◆　◆ And then came 2024. I will be brief, because the facts carry more weight than any framing I can add. In 2024, my son Joseph died suddenly in Suzhou. He was just thirty-eight. He left behind his wife and six-year-old daughter. At the same time. My husband was diagnosed with two metastasized cancers simultaneously. And then our daughter Sarah, married and living in the US, went into a life-threatening delivery. Both she and her newborn son were still hospitalized when I had to tell her that her brother was dead. The only way I can describe what it was like to be inside that period is this: there are moments when the weight of what you are holding, for yourself, for others, for everyone who needs you to remain functional, is such that you stop asking whether you are managing and simply manage. I had been in that place once before, but in a different register, when Joseph was young and WAB did not yet exist and retreat felt impossible. This time, it was so much harder, more painful, and final. But something in me still recognized the terrain. What happened in response, unbidden and over months rather than days, was this. A former Clinton Foundation colleague stepped forward, traveling with me to Suzhou, where my daughter-in-law and her parents, who had been vacationing with my son, were waiting, not knowing how to navigate what came next. For days, she shepherded us through everything involved in recovering and cremating my son in a city largely closed for the Spring Festival holiday: the paperwork, the bureaucracy, the regulations, all of it, while I was barely functional. Friends and former colleagues, even from my corporate years three decades earlier, sent food, made innumerable airport runs, and checked in quietly, and continue to do so even now. Joseph’s memorial was held at WAB, the school founded because he had needed something that did not yet exist. More than two hundred people came in person; another two hundred joined online. His fourth-grade teacher was master of ceremonies. The IT and communications departments provided technical support. The WAB Elementary School Library was later renamed for him, with a plaque at its entrance that I pass each time I am there. Joseph’s memorial dinner was hosted by a dear friend and colleague of over twenty years, the Chinese founder of the network of charitable vocational schools where I have served as a board member almost since its founding. Fellow board members interceded on my husband’s behalf. The public health community from my Clinton Foundation years and subsequent work in elder care mobilized to ensure my husband had access to the highest level of care in China. He is now cancer free. Left: Leaving the Suzhou crematorium with Joseph’s ashes on my back, carrying him home to Beijing. Right: Performance of a Memorial Tribute to Joseph at the close of his memorial, composed and played by Liu Kai (a family friend, professional musician and scholar). Left: Plaque renaming the WAB Elementary School Library in honor of Joseph. Right: Inside the library. For Sarah and her newborn, out of our reach half-way across the world, a former WAB classmate and my cousins rearranged their lives over months to make sure our distance, illness, and grief never left them without family. The roots held, not because I had engineered them to, but because they were deep and real. ◆　◆　◆ I cannot offer any assurance that difficulties surmounted always lead to growth, that staying is always better than leaving, or that my choices are the right ones for others. Life’s lessons do not transfer that cleanly. What I can offer instead is this. Those moments that feel like interruptions to life, those disruptive, unwanted, unplanned junctures that arrive and bend your line near breaking, become the very moments when something real is either built or not. What determines this depends less on the outcome than on the quality of your engagement. Whether you work through the contradictions and pain, sit with the uncertainty, and arrive at a decision that is yours. Or let it be resolved for you. That is, I think, the difference between a life that holds and accumulates into something, and a life that is simply lived through. Throughout, I have made choices imperfectly and with no certainty of getting things right. In fact, I have often gotten them wrong. But each time, I have made my choices rooted in this complicated, demanding, irreplaceable place called China. A place not mine by birth but by choice. A place that made the communities, the friendships, the networks, and the dreams possible. And the place that became the bedrock on which I keep finding my way back to myself. That is what more than forty years in China have built for me. Not the institutions, not the résumé, but the choices that were mine, and the communities that, together, made everything possible, and bearable, and true. ◆　◆　◆ ◆　◆　◆ 听到白思南（Sabina Brady）的故事时，我脑海中蹦出的第一个词是“先驱”。直到今天，包括我在内，还有很多人都在收益于她多年前在北京打下的基础——而我们大多数人压根儿不知道这回事。这份切身体会，是我作为合作方，多年为北京京西学校提供心理咨询服务的过程中，一点点感受到的。我一直对这所学校怀有深深的敬意，也敬佩它为社区带来的巨大价值。直到最近我才知道，白思南正是这所学校的核心创始人之一。而参与创办京西学校，还只是她在华四十多年来众多有意义的贡献之一。 这些年里，白思南给予了中国很多，而中国也深刻地塑造了她。现在，让我们听听她亲自讲述自己的故事。 秦小杰 心理咨询师，CandleX 总监 2025年，白思南在北京参加一场公益活动，支持一家社区居家养老社会企业。 我的“中国制造”：四十年变迁、抉择与因果 本文源自白思南（Sabina Brady）在北京WOMEN活动中的分享，此版本由作者本人撰写调整编辑后发布。 原文英文作者：白思南(Sabina Brady，美国) 翻译：Bryan Liu (刘劭祥) and Qin Xiaojie (秦小杰) with assistance from DeepSeek、Liang-Xia "Kippy" Ye (叶良侠)、Xuemei "Mei" Zheng (郑雪梅)、and Sabina Brady (白思南) 中文译文最终校对：白思南 时间：2026年8月28日 照片由白思南（Sabina Brady）惠允提供 1979年，刚刚大学毕业、二十岁出头的我，放弃了法学院的录取，接受了一份为期一年的北京工作——工作报酬是三千美元，往返机票、食宿和一辆自行车。此前，我从未在国外生活过。至于我的中文，尽管我在简历中暗示我会中文，实则不过是赴华前，在明德学院（Middlebury College）参加了一期暑期强化班而已。 我受刚刚在北京设立的美国驻华大使馆公使私人聘用，为其打理家中的宴客事宜，并管理一支由管家、厨师及两名不谙英语的清洁阿姨组成的服务团队。此外，我还要兼顾照看他的孩子，并在那所只有不到十二名学生的小小使馆学校教书。反正只做一年。届时，我应该会更清楚自己的人生规划。至少，我当时是这般设想的。 1979年的北京，与今日判若两城。那时的北京还没有豪华酒店，没有富裕的中产阶层，亦没有无处不在的"高速与高效"。相较于今远为清贫，管制亦更严，但监控依赖人工而非如今的数字技术。这般就留出了一些缝隙与回旋的余地。而我的私人受雇身份的优势就在于：与身为外交官的雇主不同，彼行止悉受制于各项规章，而我则无此约束。闲暇之时，我去到他无法涉足之地——骑上自行车，穿行于本不该踏入的街巷与境况之中，凭借仅堪应付的中文，我坚持不懈地尝试着一切可能。彼时我的雇主对于我唯一的要求是：不要做出令他或美国大使馆难堪的事情。 继而，我行李箱中的长笛和一摞室内乐乐谱，成了我进入中央音乐学院学生世界的入场券。他们都是中国最有天赋的青年音乐家，对于西方古典曲目了然于心。尽管多年来渠道受限，但他们仍想方设法聆听录音。而他们真正所缺少的，是亲身参与演奏，尤其是演奏室内乐的机会。而我带到中国的乐谱成全了他们的愿望。每星期，我们跨越种种“鸿沟”，一起演奏，而我们周围的一切却都在竭力维系这一割裂。在音乐之中，情谊萌生，我也开始能洞悉中国表象之下所蕴藏的种种，那是任何简报或指南都未能让我为此做好准备的。 临近一年期满，我发现自己并不愿离去。说不清缘由，某种情愫已然滋生：此间并非筹谋或远见，而是一种对于这片土地的深深的羁绊，于我而言既陌生又令人心动，远胜于我所经历之万般。我尚未准备好就此放下这一切，然则，我申请在某中国院校教职的请求却被拒绝了。我别无选择，只能回国。 重返美国后，我俨然被诸多亟盼深入了解中国、拓展对华商业合作的美国企业视为“中国通”。而我的"专长"，不过是在中国生活一年的经历，以及勉强可用的普通话。这其中的荒诞，我自然心知肚明。然而凭借这个新获得的"中国专家"身份，我成功争取到一个把我带回到中国的机会：为一家总部位于芝加哥的跨国公司筹建并运营其中国办事处。 在我于1980年夏末无可奈何地离京三年多之后，我再度登上飞往北京的航班。这一次，我定要留下来。 此后我的人生绝非一条笔直坦途，却由我不曾选择的机遇与始料未及的转折交织而成；亦由或非出自我本心的抉择，或由阴差阳错的命运替我做出的安排所铸就。接下来，我将回溯其中若干时刻：特别是身处其中的感受与付出，以及它们最终回馈予我的一切；此般种种有时数年之后方才悄然而至，虽每每出人意料，但却总是在最紧要的时刻，恰逢其时地降临。 ◆　◆　◆ 第一个这样的时刻出现在20世纪80年代末。那时我出任公司副总裁负责大中华区业务，经历了公司两次全球收购和一次合并带来的震荡。此时我已在公司高管岗位上证明了自己，期间我所取得的成绩也引起了新任全球CEO和董事会的关注。而我亦已为人妇，并成为两个孩子的母亲：长子1985年出生，三年后小女降生。那时没有合资的国际医院，两个孩子都出生在北京协和医院。20世纪50年代初我先生的两个妹妹也都出生在同一家医院。新中国成立之初，我先生便随家人来到中国，而彼时的他还是个蹒跚学步的幼童。父亲是一位享誉世界的菲律宾华侨科学家，为了社会主义事业放弃了国外优越的职业生涯；母亲则是一位此前从未到过亚洲的美国白人女性。我先生虽兼具双重血脉，却自幼沐浴在新中国的荣光之中。在他心底，他始终是中国人，但旁人从未完全如此看待他。 左：1982年12月，于华盛顿特区婚礼上切蛋糕。 右：20世纪90年代初，初秋的一天与我们的两个孩子出游十三陵。 我们的儿子Joseph（叶秋实）天资聪颖，却有着异于常人的学习方法，这并非彼时的北京教育体系所能接纳包容。起初精通中英双语的秋实在本地的幼儿园里如鱼得水，但步入小学最初的几年，对他乃至我们全家而言却都异常煎熬。摆在我们面前的只有三条路径可选：在家教育；或重返美国– 在那里我们既有资源，亦有亲人的守候；抑或留在北京，为他创办一所真正契合他所需、且尚不存在的学校。 从理性上讲，回美国的理由十分充分。秋实的需要真实而迫切。而我本人既无教育从业背景，亦从未涉足学校创办与运营；彼时中国尚无相应的法规监管体系容许我们所构想的办学模式。而若倾力投入筹建我脑海中构想的学校，我原本的跨国公司职业生涯将难以为继。但理智告诉我，取舍已不言而明。 然而，我又一次不愿离去。于是，带着可能错选的清醒认知，带着对“覆水难收”的了然于胸，惴惴不安的我为了秋实纵身入局。我深知有朝一日我或许会再度审视这一抉择，而我与秋实也永远无法回到最初的起点。 离开跨国公司岗位前，我做了一件事，这是此生我一直努力践行的人生准则的最初印证：衡量我们所缔造之物的唯一标准，便是当我们转身离去后，其是否依然生生不息，繁茂如初。在获得董事会正式批准后，我花了几个月时间培养一位中国同事接任，以确保已经建立起来的一切，能够在或许比我更加胜任的人手中延续。我必须坦言，告别跨国公司职业生涯，于我而言，亦是一种难以名状的失去。 此后，我便开启了致力于创办北京京西学校（Western Academy of Beijing, WAB）的历程。当我正为秋实的就学问题辗转思虑时，北京日益壮大的外籍人士社群亦深陷自身困局：可供外籍子女入读的学位严重匮乏。显而易见的出路便是以北京为数不多的外交使团学校为基础，拓展提升。 但这些学校各自采用本国的课程和教学方式，并优先录取本国外交人员和公民的适龄子女，而我们不愿如此这般。我们所憧憬的是一所真正国际化、以学习者为中心的学校；一所不隶属于任何单一国家的教育体系或教学大纲的学校，扎根中国，并向所有求学者敞开大门。日益激增的学位需求-- 尤其是那些来自五个英语国家使团之外的外交与非外交人员家庭 -- 为我们实现愿景创造了绝佳的契机。自1993年5月起，尽管彼时我们尚无校舍、无经费、无办学许可证，亦无任何现成的法规框架支持我们所构想的办校理念，但是我们仍凝聚起一个多元共同体：未来学生的家长、教育从业者、企业高管、外交使节，以及来自地方和中央的各级政府官员。我们同心协力，摸索出一种完全自主且独具匠心的方式，去回应那份迫切的共同诉求。最终，一所真正海纳百川、能让所有求学者蓬勃成长的学校应运而生。而我的儿子也终于在这里找到了属于他的天地。 我们所取得的一切成就，皆源于在未知中学习如何跨越那些始料未及的重重阻碍。这意味着，纵然前路茫茫，我们仍相信每一位参与者，并坚信我们一起定能带来破局之策。京西学校由一群从未设想自己会成为办学者的人所创建，亦因志同道合者怀揣同一个梦想而汇聚加入。三十余载岁月流转，京西学校延续至今，历久弥新，靠的不是克服了创校之初的重重困难，而恰恰是这些困难本身。 上：京西学校首个校址是租用一家濒临倒闭的国企办公楼，办公楼改造前后对比；校址地图显示，其位于东北四环路外侧此国企厂区内；平整一块空地并铺种草坪；京西学校最初的标识与校名牌。 下：1994年9月1日开学首日——剪彩仪式、与中国政府官员参观校园、庆典晚宴；主楼上的校名与标识；孩子们与家庭的合影。 就这样，我离开了跨国公司的职业生涯，选择了家庭、亦选择了中国。在随后的岁月里，这一直觉一再重现，虽非如出一辙，却有它自己的无可辩驳的韵脚。而每一次倾力而为都留下了自己的印迹；起初它们往往隐而未显，然而待到回响降临之时，所获之馈赠亦鲜少恰如我初衷之所盼，有时更远超我曾敢于设想的一切。 ◆　◆　◆ 京西学校于1994年成立后，我开始为中国非政府组织和公益慈善基金会提供咨询、辅导与能力建设服务。我发现自己热爱这份工作。不过几年后，当我受邀负责京西学校新校园的设计、征地和建设时，便暂时放下了手上的工作。我至今还保留着一顶竹编安全帽，作为那段岁月的纪念。实现了京西学校从租赁一家近乎倒闭的国企厂房到迁入专属校舍的愿景，这是凝聚着同心协力的整个社群共同努力的结果。正因如此，今日的京西学校才得以成为一所从幼儿园贯通至高三的创新国际学校。 京西学校专属校园，全新幼儿园至十二年级的教学设施：2000年8月开学剪彩；奠基仪式；封顶庆典；以及京西学校的全新标识。 京西学校的新校园于21世纪初落成，而我也再次站在了人生又一个转折点。彼时的京西学校不再如从前那般需要我，而我也需要探寻新的人生角色和目标。离开企业界已久，重返已非易事；况且，销售和服务体系的搭建、技术转让的谈判、合资企业的设立，都是我经历过的事了。我需要全新的挑战——可以延续京西学校所赋予我的精神内核，即富有创造力又讲求协作解决问题之道。而一如我人生中诸多际遇，接下来发生的事情正向一个我全然始料未及的方向悄然展开。 似乎毫无征兆地，我接到了一个来自克林顿基金会中国艾滋病项目幕后捐赠人的电话。他正在物色中国区创始负责人，而我早年在华盛顿特区工作时的一位旧时同僚向他推荐了我。几十年来，此同僚与我虽一直通过互通音讯与来华之际保持着联系，但我全然不知他与这位捐赠人私交甚笃，而他的推荐更是我始料未及的。 我与美国跨国公司哥德电子（Gould Electronics）的中国办事处团队；该公司后被AEG收购，其后又并入施耐德集团（Groupe Schneider）。 时间回到20世纪80年代初——当时找一份能让我重返中国的工作并不易。中美双边关系亦刚刚正式恢复，进入中国的职业路径十分有限。1981年初，我终于找到一个机会：在华盛顿特区的一家致力于促进中美贸易的商业协会工作。两年半后，协会的一家会员公司聘请我，负责在京筹建及中国业务运营。彼时的我无从知晓，当年在协会结下的同僚之谊，竟会在随后的岁月里于我毫无察觉之际，悄然将我工作的点滴转达给了克林顿基金会的捐赠人，一个我梦寐以求、却始料未及的扎根中国的公共卫生事业契机。到21世纪初，无论是早年为跨国公司筹建中国区业务发展的岁月，还是后来联合创办京西学校的历程，已然为我积淀了为竞聘克林顿基金会这一职位积累了扎实的资历与坚实的底气。于是，我欣然应允。 我接下这份工作时，中国正处于一场迟迟未得到正视的全国性的艾滋病疫情之中。彼时中国的公共卫生体系应对能力尚有待加强：规范诊断、病患关怀与疾病治疗尚付阙如。而在当时，这种具有传染性、危及生命的疾病，一旦确诊就被视同于“死刑”。围绕它的社会污名极其严重，患者不得不隐瞒病情，反之又进一步助长了疫情的蔓延。为此，受中国政府邀请，克林顿基金会进入中国协助构建、试点并形成一套综合治疗与关怀体系，以嵌入全国公共卫生基础设施，从中央层层贯通至村级卫生所，涵盖抗病毒药品采购、诊疗方案和即时诊断。若此模式成功落地，此中美合作便有望将”死刑判决“逆转为为长期可控的慢性疾病，让患者重获新生，从而助力遏制疫情蔓延。 我们的工作充满挑战。彼时的我本人既无公共卫生专业背景，亦未接受过医学训练，而我的团队则是一支成员背景迥异的队伍：他们皆是病毒治疗领域的西方医护专家，但对中国这片土地毫无经验可言。当时艾滋病感染率最高的群体恰恰是那些在中国处于社会边缘、法律保障欠缺的脆弱群体，因而他们不仅难以触达，也很敏感。相较于全国亟待开展的工作量而言，我们的资金也很紧张。基金会的政府合作伙伴常常对这种疾病心存顾虑，对我们的参与亦显踌躇不安。出差密集而艰辛，我们频繁奔赴远离北京的省份和乡村，包括中部的河南、湖北，南方的四川、云南、广西，以及地处中国西北边陲的新疆。所有决策缺乏先例可循，亦没有现成的操作手册可依，我甚至时常无法判断我们的所作所为是否真的产生了积极的效果。支撑我们坚持下去的是使命的清晰笃定，是那些被治疗、被给予希望的一个个真实的个体，也是病患周围人群眼中 / 病患身边人眼中悄然改变的认知与态度。但我自问：我们真的带来了改变吗？ 克林顿基金会医疗保健获取项目的首个项目致力于与各国政府合作，共同应对全球艾滋病疫情。这两份中国报刊文章详细介绍了基金会在云南和河南开展的部分工作。 多年以后，在一次与原卫生部的非正式闭门会议中，我们获悉：尽管克林顿基金会在华投入的资金远少于其他任何一家外国机构，但我们的合作却为改善中国艾滋病患者的处境、遏制疫情做出了最为显著的贡献。而我未曾预料到的是这份工作反哺予我的馈赠——那些在多年同舟共济中结下的情谊，最终成为我生命中最深厚的友谊。这种回报往往无从规划、亦无法预见。 2008年，我再度收到一份看似与我自身资历并无显见契合的邀约：美国波音和康明斯发动机公司的中国区总裁联袂相邀，请我构建、发起并领导一家非营利的政企合作联合体，聚焦世界最大的两个碳排放国——中美两国 ，旨在协同推动清洁能源解决方案的商业化应用。该组织由美国企业出资设立，同时吸纳中国企业共同参与，并与两国政府建立正式合作伙伴关系。其间企业作为主导力量，政府则退居幕后予以支持，绝非反其道而行之。欲使此构想落地生根，我们必须凝聚各个利益攸关方最高决策层来促成、资助，并对我们所构想的框架与机制正式予以认可与背书。其成果即为“中美能源合作项目”（U.S.-China Energy Cooperation Program，简称ECP）。ECP于2009年正式设立——正值新当选的美国总统首次对中国进行国事访问之际，两国元首于北京人民大会堂共同见证项目启动。ECP之所以能成功，与京西学校和克林顿基金会合作的底层逻辑如出一辙：那些秉持共同使命的利益攸关者，在真实的困境中做出艰难的抉择并最终走到一起，共同缔造了任何一方的单打独斗皆无法企及的宏图。尽管随着中美关系的渐行渐远，ECP最终难以为继，但在其存续的多年间所产生的影响是真实的，而许多由此建立的合作关系至今依然坚实牢固。 左：一篇刊登在中国美国商会期刊文章的首页，详细介绍了 ECP 成立第一年取得的成果。 上中：2009年11月，美国总统奥巴马对中国进行国事访问期间，与中国国家主席胡锦涛在北京人民大会堂共同宣布ECP的成立，并代表两国政府予以正式认可。 中：ECP标识。 右上：2009年ECP成立大会上的美方创始公司成员。 右下：ECP运营满两年时的主要美方公司成员。 ECP的工作告一段落之后，我以个人身份重返20世纪90年代便已开启的慈善事业工作，并为其倾注了全部心力：联合创立了一个非营利的陪伴学习平台，以扶持中国新兴的公益慈善基金会，为本土非政府组织提供能力建设。同时我继续在教育和公民社会领域履行理事及顾问的职责。相较于此前，后来的工作虽少了几分喧嚣与瞩目，但对于那些身处其中的人而言，其深远意义未有丝毫减损。而其底层逻辑和行事准则始终如一，从未改变。 中：为在北京举行的庆祝活动准备致辞。该活动庆祝姚莉（左）所著《做幸福的普通人》英文版“Happiness in Being Ordinary“ 于伦敦书展发布（我是该书的首席译者）。姚莉是一位企业、慈善、教育家，亦是一家慈善职业学校联合体的创办人。 左、右：参与机构与教育能力建设及相关支持工作。 回望这三十余载机构建设与慈善事业领域工作历程，最令我动容的，并非最终建立了什么，而在于如何建立的。每一次，工作序幕皆以同样的方式开启：寻得那些真正关切此问题的人，或那些可被唤起共鸣的人，将大家聚集一堂，而后满怀笃信 —— 最终破茧而出的成果定然超越任何一方的孤军作战。这一点，既体现在一群找不到学校送孩子入读的北京家长身上；也彰显于倾力遏制疫情的医生、政府官员和患者之中；即见于弥合双边能源企业高管分歧的能力；亦融于中国基金会领导人与从业者正在推动的系统化、可持续和高效的慈善事业，造福国家。纵然社群不同，问题不同，所激起的涟漪效应也各不相同，且常常远超出在场者预见的广度与深度，但我们所秉持的方法却始终如一。而就在这一切交织涌动的中央，不知不觉，那些社群已然与我彼此相融——它们成了我的一部分，正如我亦成了它们的一部分。 ◆　◆　◆ 继而进入了2024年。我将言简意赅，因为事情本身比任何诠释都更具分量。 2024年，我的儿子Joseph（叶秋实）在苏州猝然离世，年仅三十八岁，身后留下了他的妻子与年仅六岁的幼女。而我先生亦在同一时期被确诊罹患两种癌症，且已经转移。 祸不单行，我们远嫁美国的女儿Sarah（叶冬圃）难产，命悬一线。当冬圃和初生的稚子都尚在医院时，我却不得不告知她：她的哥哥永远离开了我们。 若让我描摹身处那段至暗时刻的心境，唯有如此这般：当你背负着为自己、为他人、为所有期盼你屹立不倒的人而承受这千钧重担时，你再无暇顾及自己是否能承受，唯有咬紧牙关坚持撑下去。我也曾深陷如此境地，只是彼时的状态与心境皆与今日有所不同：彼时秋实尚且年幼，京西学校亦尚未建立，我亦退无可退。而这一次，煎熬远胜往昔，痛楚锥心蚀骨，结局亦无可转圜。然而在我内心深处，依然能辨认出这片至暗之地的轮廓。 随后发生的一切非我所求，历经数月而非朝夕之间。一位昔日克林顿基金会的同事慨然相助，随我远赴苏州。在那里，我的儿媳和亲家正苦苦守候，他们本正与秋实一起度假，彼时亦手足无措不知该如何面对接下来的一切。时值春节假期，整座城市大多停摆。一连几日，她料理一应事宜，妥善料理遗体接运与火化相关所有事宜 —— 各种文书、审批手续，条条框框、事无巨细。而彼时的我却也力不从心。我的朋友与昔日同事，甚至包括三十年前企业界共事过的旧友，纷纷送来食物、无数次往返机场接送、默默地关心问候，直至今日，依然如此。秋实的追思会选在了京西学校举办——这所因他当年所需但尚无此般而创立的学校。追思会当天逾两百亲友亲临现场，另有两百余人在线观礼。秋实四年级时的老师担任司仪，学校信息技术和传播部全程提供技术支持。此后，京西学校小学图书馆以秋实之名重新命名。图书馆入口处设有纪念铭牌，而我每每踏足学校都会经过此处。而追思会晚宴由我一位相识二十余载的挚友兼同事一手操办——她是一位中国公益职业学校联合体的创办人，而我自创立之初便担任理事会理事。彼时理事会同仁也为我先生就医多方奔走。我在克林顿基金会任职期间，以及此后从事老年照护工作期间结识的公共卫生界同仁亦集结起来，确保我的先生能在中国获得最高水准的治疗。时至今日，他已彻底摆脱了癌症的阴霾。 左：背着秋实的骨灰，走出苏州殡仪馆，带他回北京的家。 右：追思会尾声献演的纪念叶秋实乐曲。乐曲由刘凯（好友，专业音乐家兼学者）创作并演奏。 左：京西学校小学部图书馆更名纪念铭牌，以纪念叶秋实。 右：图书馆内部。 远在另一半球，冬圃和她新生幼子，虽身处我们的臂膀所不及之处，但她儿时在京西学校的昔日同窗和我的表亲，在随后的数月间默默重新调整了各自的生活，只为确保无论距离多么遥远，无论病痛与悲伤如何铮然作响，她们母子身边始终有家人相伴。 我们的根，坚如磐石。此般并非我刻意为之，而皆源于其本就深厚且真实。 ◆　◆　◆ 诚然，我无法断言，历经磨难定能迎来成长，原地坚守总是胜于转身离去，或我所做出的选择于旁人而言同样正确。生命的感悟，终无法严丝合缝地套用。而我所能给予的唯有这肺腑之言。 生命中总有这样一些时刻，如突如其来的变故降临。那些横生波折不请自来、不期而至，更将你原本的人生轨迹弯折拉扯至濒临断裂的边缘。然而，恰恰是这些时刻，决定了某种真实之物是否得以构筑，而这一切取决于你投入其中的态度与用心。你以何种姿态去直面这一切：是否选择直面痛苦、知难而上？是否在不确定中坚守？并最终作出一个真正属于自己的抉择；抑或任由其替你做出决断。 在我看来，这就是一个分水岭：一个区别“历经岁月沉淀铸就的厚重人生”与“得过且过的一生”。 一路走来，我的选择皆非完美，亦无把握能够次次皆对。而事实上，我也屡屡失之偏颇。然而每一次抉择，无不植根于这片纷繁、严苛、而又无可替代的土地——中国。她并非我生而所属，却是我自己的选择。正是这片土地孕育了我的社群、友谊、人际网络，让梦想成真，成为我一次次找回自我的基石。 这，便是四十余载中国岁月为我所铸就的一切。无关乎那些机构的宏大叙事，亦无关乎那份履历上的浮名。而正是那些真正由我做出的抉择，以及那些与我志同道合的同行者，让一切皆有可能，一切皆可承受，一切亦返璞归真。

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day 2026, we’d like to help you answering this question: The wisdom in traditional Chinese Character 聽(tīng, 听in simplified) teaches us the exact way to show up for them. To put our ears first, give full focus, meet their eyes, and hold their pain sincerely in our hearts. First, 耳, the ear, paired with 王, king. This radical pair tells us: the ear must be king of this moment. When someone shares suicidal pain, speaking does not get to take over. Your ear, your ability to receive their pain, come first. Do not interrupt, do not jump to give solutions. Next, 十 on top of 目. Shi fen means 100% form the idea of 十分注目. Eye contact. Maintain eye contact, gentle and natural. you dont need to stare, nor you look away because you become impatient. Next 一心. It means to listen and see with an open heart. This is difficult because it requires you to feel their pain. That takes courage! it encourages you to fully hear and see a person on a deep level, all their hidden vulnerabilities, their quiet pain, and the quiet strengths they barely show. You hold space for every part of who they are without judgement, with understanding. That’s the answer to “how do I best support someone who is at suicide risks”. For anyone carrying suicidal thoughts, shame and loneliness weigh heavier than anything. They do not need you to fix their problems instantly. They need to feel seen, fully heard, uncrushed, and accepted. If you are at risk of suicide, or support others with suicide risks, please know that there are support available in both Chinese and English in Beijing, and China. Always remember, you are not alone. Please visit our Get Help page for more info.

Updated: Aug 2026 I am a psychotherapist; director of CandleX. I am also an entrepreneur, a community mental-health advocate, a mentor, an interviewer and a story teller, a mindfulness practitioner, a lifelong learner, and more. I am Xiaojie Qin. 我是秦小杰。 心理咨询师，心理治疗师，CandleX的创始者及总监，社区心理健康的推动者。有时给青少年做做导师，也做社区心理故事的采访者；讲故事，也修习正念。终身学习，不止于此。 Finding a therapist—and the right one for you—is a big deal. That's why I want to be as transparent as possible about who I am and how I work, so you can make a truly informed decision. Below are answers to some of the most common questions I receive—I hope they give you a clear sense of what it's like to work with me. 找到一位心理咨询师——而且是适合你的那一位——是一件很重要的事。正因如此，我希望尽可能坦诚地让你了解我是谁、我的工作方式，以便你能做出真正知情的选择。下面是一些我常被问到的问题和回答，希望能让你对我、对和我一起工作的体验，有一个更清晰的感受。 Where are you from? I was born and raised in Sichuan. For my adult life, I have lived and worked in Beijing, which is where I am based now. My career has long involved collaborating with people from diverse cultural backgrounds, first through international organizations, and now leading CandleX, a global-minded Beijing-community-focused mental-health organization. 你来自哪里？ 我在四川出生长大，那里是我的根。成年之后，北京成了我的第二故乡，我在这里生活、工作，也在这里扎根。一路走来，我与许多来自不同文化背景的人共事过——从国际组织到如今带领CandleX，这个机构既有全球视野，又以北京社区为原点，我始终在做同一件事：连接不同的人，关心同一件事——心理健康。 How could I book a session with you? Please reach me via email: xiaojieqin2020@163.com. I manage client‑related communication only through email and do not use instant‑messaging platforms to maintain clear professional boundaries. I respond to emails within 24 hours on most days, with a maximum 48‑hour turnaround. 怎么预约你的咨询？ 请通过邮件联系我： xiaojieqin2020@163.com。为了保持清晰的专业边界，我仅通过邮件处理与来访者相关的沟通，不使用即时通讯平台。邮件我通常会在几个小时内回复，最晚不超过48小时。 Could I have a short call with you and understand your approaches before booking a formal session? My work schedule leaves no bandwidth for complimentary pre-booking consultation calls. This written profile covers most key details about my practice. Feel free to send any remaining questions via email. 能否在正式预约前先跟你通个电话，了解一下你的工作方式？ 由于工作安排较为紧凑，我目前无法提供免费的预咨询电话。这份书面介绍已经涵盖了我执业中的大部分关键信息。如果你还有任何疑问，欢迎随时通过邮件提出。 Where do you work and what languages do you offer? I offer sessions in person at my practice in Guomao, Beijing, as well as online for clients who prefer the flexibility or are further afield. Sessions are available in both Mandarin and English. 你的工作地点在哪里？提供哪些语言的服务？ 我的咨询地点在北京国贸，提供面对面咨询；同时也可以为有远程需求或不在北京的来访者提供线上咨询。咨询提供中文和英文两种语言。 Who do you work with? I work with clients aged 14 and older. I provide counselling to teenagers through international schools or private requests by their families, and work with adults either via corporate employee benefit programs or on a private basis. My clients range from high-achieving professionals navigating workplace pressure and life transitions, to international school students struggling with academic, social or emotional difficulties, and couples looking to heal or peacefully conclude their relationships. I offer individual sessions, couple sessions, and group sessions. My general focus includes mood disorders, anxiety, grief and loss, suicidal tendencies, teenagers dropped out of school, relationship issues, career stagnation, and personal growth. For clients with active psychiatric conditions, I encourage clients seeking medical professionals for clinical management, alongside the counseling and psychotherapy work we do together. Specialized areas of experience: Abusive relationships – Since 2021, I have developed a specialty in supporting individuals who have experienced relational abuse, helping them rebuild safety, trust, and a sense of self. Bipolar disorder – I have extensive experience supporting clients with bipolar disorder, dating back to 2015 through public campaigns on a yearly basis. I always encourage and facilitate clients' connection to clinical care for medication management, and I stay informed of their treatment plans to ensure our work is aligned and safe. Grief and loss – I offer a reduced-fee program for grief work, which I have been facilitating since 2024. 哪些人适合来找你做咨询？ 我接待14岁以上的来访者。青少年的话，我一般通过国际学校合作或家庭私约来提供支持；成人则可以是企业EAP渠道，也可以是个人直接约我。 来找我的人各种各样——有在职场高压和人生转折中打拼的高管和专业人士，有在学校里被学业、社交或情绪压得喘不过气的国际学校学生，也有想挽回关系、或者想好好说再见的伴侣。我做个体咨询，也做伴侣和团体咨询。 我日常处理的问题包括：抑郁焦虑、哀伤丧失、自杀倾向、青少年厌学、亲密关系困扰、职业卡住、个人成长等等。如果来访者有精神科的症状，我会建议他们同时看医生、做药物管理，心理咨询和临床治疗两边配合，效果才最稳妥。 我特别关注的三个方向： 暴力亲密关系——从2021年开始，我关注并持续在团体心理咨询和个体咨询中，支持经历过关系虐待的人，包括肢体和心理暴力，帮他们一点点找回安全感和对自己的信任。 双相情感障碍——我从2015年起每年做相关的公众倡导，后续通过同伴支持，以及心理咨询支持这部分人群。 哀伤与丧失——2024年我启动了哀伤辅导的公益低价项目，希望能让更多人有机会面对和处理失去带来的痛。 Have you always been a therapist? I worked in program management and evaluation at large‑scale international organizations from 2008‑2019. In 2015 I founded CandleX and have run this organization ever since. My experience collaborating with multinational teams, alongside building an organization from the ground up, gives me firsthand insight into the career‑related challenges my clients face. 你是否一直从事心理咨询工作？ 在转型成为心理咨询师前，我于2008年至2019年在大型国际组织中担任项目管理和评估工作。2015年，我创办了CandleX并持续运营至今。与跨国团队协作的经验，以及从零创建并发展一个组织的历程，使我对来访者在职业生涯中所面临的压力与挑战具有切身洞察。 What are your credentials? Master in Development Evaluation and Management, University of Antwerp, Belgium Master of Counselling, Monash University, Australia National Level 3 Psychological Counselling Practitioner Certificate, China National Psychotherapy Practitioner Certificate, China Registered Member of China Association for Mental Health (CAMH) 您的资质是什么？ 比利时安特卫普大学发展评估与管理硕士 澳大利亚莫纳什大学咨询硕士 中国国家三级心理咨询师资格证书 中国国家心理治疗师资格证书 中国心理卫生协会(CAMH)注册会员 Modalities, Approaches, therapists have different schools of trainings. What approach do you use? My practice is rooted in formal graduate training in evidence-based Cognitive Behaviour Therapy and Acceptance Commitment Therapy. I expanded my skillsets with structured Ericksonian hypnotherapy training. I have also built proficiency in Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) and Internal Family Systems Therapy (IFS) through focused study and hands-on practice. My further professional training roster includes Interpersonal Therapy, interventions for working with suicidal clients, Expressive Art Therapy, alongside many additional specialized courses. Each of these modalities applies to a wide range of personal experiences, from short-term stressors to long-standing challenges, trauma and disorders, with unique strengths suited to different concerns. When supporting a client through a specific issue, I draw on how various frameworks approach that concern, building cross-method understanding to shape care thoughtfully. Within this practice, I pay focused attention to deepening my capacity around my key areas of focus: abusive relationship trauma, bipolar disorder, grief and loss, suicidal thoughts, and work with teenagers. I integrate these modalities rather than relying on any single standalone approach, adapting flexibly to each client’s unique needs, history, healing goals, and in-session state. These methods fall into two complementary categories: top-down cognitive and behavior work, and bottom-up experiential practice; I draw from both as appropriate to support what works best for the client in the moment. You can access my psychotherapy reflections and resources at: https://www.candlex.cn/psychotherapist-xiaojie This page features my take on Internal Family Systems Therapy informed by client stories, group counselling insights for abusive relationship support, thoughts on Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, and additional related content. 治疗模式、方法与流派——治疗师接受不同学派的培训。您采用什么方法？ 我的专业基础，建立在研究生期间系统学习的循证认知行为疗法（CBT）和接纳承诺疗法（ACT）之上。后来，我又深入学习了艾瑞克森催眠疗法，让我的技能更加丰富。再之后，通过持续的研读和大量实操，我逐步掌握了眼动脱敏再加工疗法（EMDR）和内在家庭系统疗法（IFS）。除此之外，我也接受过人际心理治疗、自杀干预、表达性艺术治疗等多项专题训练——这些学习一直都没有停过。 这些方法单独拿出来，各有各的侧重点，不一定每个都适合你的性格特征、当下的状态和遇到的情况。但把它们整合到一起，就能覆盖一个人可能面临的困扰——无论是短期的压力、长期的困境，还是更深的创伤或心理障碍。在陪你处理具体问题时，从不同方法的视角，我们可以重新去理解你的处境，交叉对照，形成更完整的认识，同时推进行为和生活的改变。在这个过程中，我也在不断深化自己在几个咨询核心方向上的积累，包括：亲密关系中的创伤、双相情感障碍、哀伤与失去、自杀念头，以及与青少年一起工作。 我整合运用这些方法，而非依赖任何单一流派，灵活适应每位来访者的独特需求、个人经历、疗愈目标及当下面临的状态。这些方法可分为两个互补的类别：自上而下的认知与行为工作，以及自下而上的体验性实践；我会根据当下对来访者最有效的方式，酌情从两方面汲取资源。 您可以在以下网址查阅我的心理咨询随笔与资源： https://www.candlex.cn/psychotherapist-xiaojie 该页面收录了我基于来访者故事对内在家庭系统疗法的见解、针对亲密关系创伤支持的团体咨询心得、对认知行为疗法的思考，以及其他相关内容。 What’s your work beyond the therapy room? My work doesn't stop at the therapy room. As a therapist, I aim to share insights accumulated from working with clients. I am grateful to clients who allowed me to share these learnings. I'm actively involved in public conversations about mental health on these topics of abusive relationship, bipolar disorder, loss and grief, suicide—through campaigns, panel discussions, and videos—and this engagement feeds back into my practice. In turn, it gives me broader perspective that helps me show up better for my clients. It's a cycle that keeps me grounded, informed, and continuously learning. For workplaces: I also provide crisis support and training in Psychological First-Aid for organizations navigating critical incidents. I want to encourage learning and sharing among therapists. We can learn together, support each other on this professional path, inspire one another to become a better therapist, and more. I provide training to other mental health professionals (including therapists, life coaches and facilitators) on group facilitation, providing support to new mental health practitioners, and contributing to maintaining mental health professional networks in Beijing. 您在心理咨询工作外，还做别的工作吗？ 我的工作不止于咨询室。作为一名心理咨询师，我希望分享在与来访者工作中积累的心得与思考。我很感激那些允许我分享这些学习经历的来访者。 我积极参与关于心理健康的公共对话，围绕亲密关系创伤、双相情感障碍、丧失与哀伤、自杀等议题——通过公益活动、圆桌讨论和视频等形式——而这些参与也不断回馈到我的临床实践中，让我获得更广阔的视角，帮助我更好地陪伴每一位来访者。这是一个循环：让我保持踏实、敏锐，并持续学习。 针对职场：我也为公司和组织提供危机支持和心理急救培训，协助应对突发重大事件。 我也积极不定期举办促进心理咨询师之间的学习与交流。我们可以在专业道路上彼此学习、相互支持、激励彼此成为更好的心理从业者，还可以做更多。我为其他心理健康从业者（包括心理咨询师、人生教练和引导师）提供团体带领培训，为新手心理健康从业者提供支持。 If you want to know more about me and CandleX, you can find out more at these links: CandleX: an organization providing mental health for all My reflections about life and the world Media interviews on me 如果你想进一步了解我和CandleX，可以通过以下链接查看更多信息： CandleX：我创立的面向大众提供心理健康支持的组织 我的博客 关于我的媒体访谈

Author: Xiaojie Qin Time: April 2026 In June 2025, after finishing my yoga practice, I would sling my mat over my shoulder and arrive at the same cafe by 8 a.m. to write. The process turned out to be far harder than I had imagined. I thought I already knew the material, but as I wrote, questions kept surfacing in my mind. What I had planned as a single chapter stretched into two or three. Sometimes I set a timer for myself—because when I hit a difficult spot, I tend to dig in obsessively, slipping into a state where I should stop but can't. My shoulders and neck would ache, yet I still wanted to untangle every last thread. More than once, I hit snooze. And so, the writing continued, all the way into Beijing's winter. By then, I was bundled in my heaviest coat—still writing about Internal Family System Therapy (IFS). I switched to a different café, one where I could sit in the sun even during the coldest days. Xiaojie, from summer to winter 2025-2026 My goal was never to produce pure theory (there is enough of that). I wanted to document my practice—the moments of application, the reflections, the realizations. Writing this series pushed me to revisit two clients' journeys in depth (you can read Rose’s therapy story, and Xuan’s therapy story). I paged through my session notes and replayed those therapeutic moments in my mind. Looking back from a kind of bird's-eye view, I saw myself clearly: a therapist doing my best for my clients, yes, but also one who felt frustration and discouragement at times. And I also saw how IFS helped me break through those stuck places—bringing growth, and with it, a quiet joy. I believe that writing with real client cases is the most honest approach, and it is also the best way to help readers understand how theory actually lands in practice. But when real cases are involved, ethical considerations and safeguards must be taken seriously. This is not always an easy balance to strike. Throughout the writing process, I have constantly reflected on what information about a client can be shared and what should be left out of the story. I hold deep respect for every client I have worked with. They chose to walk into the therapy room—a place where they bravely lay down their armor. What we built together was one of the most precious resources of all: trust. And that trust allowed me to influence them. This profession grants us a unique kind of connection, and I hope that even after therapy has ended, that connection continues to offer them confidence and warmth. When I send a draft to a client for final review and informed consent, I always hope that the process remains a continued healing experience for them. So throughout this writing journey, I have reminded myself again and again of my original intention. My writing principles have gradually taken shape through this ongoing reflection. I have recorded them all, and I will continue to revisit and refine them. They are collected in this article: XiaoJie Qin's Client Counseling Stories: Writing Intentions and Principles. That brings me to April 2026. A full year has passed since I started writing about Internal Family Systems Therapy. There are still a few scattered reflections left—bits and pieces that never quite found a home in the earlier chapters. I can't bear to leave them out. So I'm placing them here, at the very end, as a closing note to this writing journey. The IFS process places relatively high demands on the therapy environment. Of course, the ideal scenario—what any form of therapy ideally requires—is a space that is private, safe, and quiet. But in real life, this condition is becoming harder and harder to meet. These days, more and more clients choose online sessions, and not always that they are in a quiet place. It's not that they don't want a quiet place—it's that they genuinely don't have the time. Life is packed: work, picking up the kids, caring for aging parents, managing the household… squeezing out fifty minutes is already a feat. Who has the energy to add commuting on top of that? So I've had clients log on from their cars, adjusting the seat into a position that might, just barely, allow for some relaxation. I've seen them in the corner of a roadside cafe, talking while glancing over their shoulder to see if anyone is coming. I've seen them in a company meeting room—the only place they could close a door. And I've seen them in the bathroom of their master bedroom, the furthest spot from the rest of the family, speaking in a hushed voice. In moments like these, I know: the subconscious is on alert. It will not fully relax in an environment it doesn't trust. If the body is constantly bracing for someone to knock, someone to walk by, someone to overhear, the deeper emotions struggle to surface. So when this happens, I adjust the pace. I rely less on deep, immersive experiential work. It's not that such work is impossible—it's that I need to shift to a different approach: lighter, slower, more attuned to the part that cannot let its guard down. It's not ideal. But this is what real therapy looks like. In real life, no one can wait until everything is perfectly in place before they begin to heal. Does IFS Require a Certain Level of Inner Observation Ability and Willingness? IFS carries an implicit assumption about the client: they need to be able to develop a certain willingness for inner observation—a readiness to notice what is happening inside themselves, to become aware of their "parts." If you watch IFS demonstrations online, most of the time you'll see clients sitting with their eyes closed, describing what they see and feel. There isn't much back-and-forth. The therapist, in particular, isn't engaged in deep, rigorous verbal reasoning or dialogue. It seems, in some ways, to share a certain resonance with hypnotherapy. For this reason, I've long felt that IFS requires a certain level of inner observation ability and willingness from the client. And yet, I've always suspected that this isn't entirely correct. With the global spread of meditation and mindfulness practices, some clients come to therapy already in the habit of inner observation. This is generally good news—especially when it comes to how well they match with IFS. With clients who already have a mindfulness practice, I find IFS flows more smoothly. But I've also encountered clients who try using inner observation during sessions, only to find that it backfires. Some don't find it useful. Others bring their own ideas and standards about what mindfulness should look like, constantly feeling they're doing it wrong. This generates strong feelings of frustration and inadequacy—which immediately activates the "firefighters," and the whole process of inner observation shuts down. The therapist doesn't need to push. When the client isn't ready to move forward, simply stay with them where they are. The therapist can still use the IFS framework to observe which parts are showing up and under what circumstances. IFS can still be applied. And if this premise isn't entirely solid—that IFS requires a certain inner observation ability—then IFS also has no fixed relationship to "short-term, medium-term, or long-term" therapy. It can show up as a moment of sudden insight in brief work, or as a steady companion over the long haul. What truly determines the pace is never the modality itself. It's the person sitting across from you—how far they want to go today, and how far they are able to go. IFS Helps Therapists Work with Their Own Countertransference A few years ago, after a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class, I was stretching on the mats with a friend who was also in therapy themselves. They suddenly asked me, "Do you have clients you like and clients you don't?" I smiled and said, "Yes, I do." This is the difference between a human therapist and an AI therapist. Human beings have their own emotions, habits, and worldviews. We have preferences. The therapeutic relationship is, after all, a form of human relationship—even if it exists only within the four walls of the consulting room, it is still charged with tension. Every therapist has emotional reactions to their clients. That's normal. Even negative feelings toward a client are part of the process. Recently, I had a dream about a client I find particularly challenging to work with. In the dream, I saw them in what looked like a stadium bleacher. This client, usually so reserved and gentle, suddenly turned and attacked me. I froze. Then they ran off. After some time, I went looking for them—to make sure they were okay. In that dream, I was processing the confusion, frustration, and discouragement that had come up in my work. And I also saw something else: my own unwavering care for this client, the fact that I would not walk away. This work inevitably stirs up difficult emotions in the therapist. The task is not to avoid them, but to feel them, to work with them, and together with the client, recalibrate where the two of you are and how you relate. That dynamic process is itself healing. When I wrote Xuanxuan's story, I talked many times about my own countertransference (see Chapter 3 of Xuanxuan's story). With the help of my own "Self," I was able to connect more deeply with something she had never been able to put into words—the trauma of growing up with domestic violence. Slowly, I found a new way forward through the frustration and confusion that had become a bottleneck in our work. The IFS approach requires the therapist to continually stay in touch with their own Self. And this process, in itself, protects the therapist—helping them continuously regulate their own emotions and the tension that arises in the room. Healing is about being seen, being met with empathy. But when a therapist and client come from different backgrounds, hold different views, and still the therapist chooses to walk toward them—to hold them, to lift them—that act of reaching out is what gives healing its deepest meaning. The Highest Level of Therapy: No Form Beats Formlessness I am not a certified IFS therapist. Not having paid for a certification doesn't mean I cannot learn, cannot think, cannot reflect. I have never written this series as someone speaking from the authority of "IFS certification." I write as a therapist who encountered IFS in practice, was deeply moved by it, and has been continuously integrating it into my work—sharing what I have seen, what I have thought, and what I remain uncertain about. My foundational training—during my graduate studies in counseling at Monash University—was rooted in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Since then, I have studied a range of different modalities, and I am currently completing my training in Ericksonian hypnosis. My interest in different approaches does not come from a desire to collect them. It comes from a growing conviction: Any good therapy is tailored to the client. The longer I practice, the harder it becomes to answer the question, "Which modality do you belong to?" Because that question assumes a premise—that a therapist should belong to a school. But real therapy does not work that way. Real therapy looks like this: In this moment, with this client, what do they need? What can I offer? Maybe IFS language fits. Maybe hypnotic visualization works better. Maybe a CBT framework is more direct. And sometimes, I offer nothing at all—just quiet presence. I believe that in any profession, this kind of freedom is only possible after reaching a certain level of mastery. I am still on that path, still moving toward that freedom. So please do not take what I have written as a "standard IFS textbook." This is simply me—a therapist who started with CBT, and along the way encountered IFS, EMDR, hypnosis, and many other things—recording and reflecting on where I am at this stage of the journey. As a psychotherapist who also practices martial arts, I know firsthand the importance of learning every technique in a Jiu-Jitsu class. But real fighting has always been about borrowing and blending across different styles. When the moment of actual combat arrives, you need to forget the techniques and fully merge into the present exchange with your opponent—trusting that your body knows the best response. Isn't this also true for psychotherapy? And isn't it true for life itself? So this final thought is for you, whether you are walking the path of a therapist or simply a lover of psychology: No form is the highest form. 作者：秦小杰 时间：2026年4月 2025年6月，我做完瑜伽，总是背着瑜伽垫，早上8点就到同一个咖啡厅，开始写作。写作的过程比我想象难很多，本以为自己已经知道的知识，在写的时候头脑里蹦出很多问题，于是原以为一章可以写完的，用了两三章才写完。有时候，我会给自己定一个闹钟，写作的时候难免遇到难题就开始转牛角尖，偶尔会进入到该停却停不下来的状态，肩颈不舒服了也想把那些没理清楚的头绪整理出来，闹钟不止一次的按下。 就这样，进入到北京的冬天，我已经穿着最厚实的大衣了，依然再写IFS。我换了一个咖啡厅，这里我可以在严冬晒着太阳。 2025-2026年小杰写作IFS之时 我希望写作出来的不是纯纯的理论，而是记录我的实践、以及在应用时候的反思和领悟。因为写作，我去深度回顾了两个来访的咨询过程 (请阅读蕊芬咨询故事，以及璇璇咨询故事系列)，去翻阅咨询笔记，回忆当时的咨询情景，这个过程让我站在了上帝视角去看自己的工作，我看到了自己作为咨询师、对来访尽心尽力的心、也有挫败和沮丧，也看到了IFS帮助我突破瓶颈的成长和喜悦。 我相信，写作时使用真实的个案是最真诚的方式，也是最能够帮助大家理解理论如何在实践中真实落地的途径。既然用到了个案，就必须做好伦理方面的考量与把关。这其实是一个不太容易平衡的过程。在写作的过程中，我一直在反思：来访的哪些信息可以写，哪些不适合纳入故事中。对于我的每一位来访，我都怀有深深的敬意。他们选择走进咨询室，那是他们勇敢卸下盔甲的地方，我们建立起一份最珍贵的资源：信任，这允许我去影响他们。这份职业赋予了我们一种特殊的联结，而我希望，即便咨询已经结束，这份联结依然能持续带给他们信心与温暖。当我将稿件发给来访做最后的阅读和知情同意时，我始终希望，这个过程对他们而言依然是一段持续的疗愈体验。 因此，在整个写作过程中，我也时时提醒自己当初的写作初心。我的写作原则也在这样反复的思考中逐渐成形，我都将它们记录了下来，并会持续反思与更新，收录在这篇文章中： 《秦小杰来访心理咨询故事分享：写作初心和原则》 这一写到就到了2026年4月，内在家庭系统疗法(IFS)的写作，没想到进行了为期一年。最后还有一些零碎的对IFS的反思，在写作过程中没有地方到的都留在最后，又舍不得扔，那就作为本次写作的末章吧。 IFS的过程对咨询环境的要求比较高 当然，最理想的状态——任何咨询都需要的状态——是独立、安全、安静的空间。但在现实生活中，这个条件越来越难满足。特别是现在，越来越多的来访选择线上咨询。不是他们不想找个安静的地方，而是他们真的没有时间。生活被挤压得太满了：上班、接送孩子、照顾老人、处理家务……能挤出50分钟已经不容易，哪还有功夫在路上来回折腾？ 于是，我见过来访者在车里上线，把座椅调到一个勉强能放松的姿势；见过他们在路边咖啡厅的角落，一边说话一边瞄着有没有人走近；见过他们在公司的会议室里，那是唯一能关上门的地方；也见过他们坐在主卧室的洗手间里——离家人最远的那个——压低声音跟我说话。 每当这种时候，我都知道：潜意识是警觉的。 它不会在一个不安全的环境里完全放松。如果身体随时准备着有人敲门、有人路过、有人听见，那深层的情绪就很难真正浮现。 所以，遇到这种情况，我通常会调整节奏，少用那些大量的、沉浸式的体验式工作。不是不能做，而是要换一种方式——更轻、更缓、更照顾到那个无法放松的部分。这不算理想，但这就是真实的咨询。真实的生活里，没有人能等到一切都准备好了才开始疗愈。 需要来访有一定的内关能力和意愿（吗？） IFS对来访者有一个隐性的前提：需要能够发展出一定的内观意愿——愿意去观察自己内在发生了什么，能对”部分”有所觉察。 你在网上去看IFS的演示，大部分的时候，会看到咨询中，来访眼睛闭着，描述着自己看到的、感受到的，咨询过程话语并不多，特别是咨询师，没有很深刻严谨的言语思考和对话。似乎，这个过程和催眠有点异曲同工。 所以，这是我一直以来觉得IFS是需要来访有一定的内关意愿和能力的，但我总觉得它又不太正确。 随着冥想内关在全球范围的推广，一部分人在来咨询前就有内观的习惯了，通常这是一个好消息，特别是对IFS对这类来访的匹配性来讲,确实有内关练习的来访，我在应用IFS感觉更加得心应手。而我也遇见一部分来访，会尝试咨询中用内关的方式去觉察自我，但适得其反。他们不喜欢这种方式，一部分人并不觉得有用，一部分人对内关有自己的想法和标准，总觉得自己没有做对，产生强烈的厌倦和挫败感。这会直接激发“消防员”开始工作，中断内关过程。 咨询师不需要勉强。不想往前的时候，就陪ta在现在的位置多待一会儿，咨询师任然可以用IFS的框架去看到这个过程中，来访都是哪些部分、在什么情况下会被激发，依旧可以应用IFS。 那既然这个前提不完全成立，那么，IFS跟“短程中程长程”没有必然的关系。它可以是短程的顿悟，也可以是长程的陪伴。真正决定节奏的，从来不是疗法本身，而是对面的那个人——ta今天想走多远，ta今天能走多远。 IFS能很好地帮助咨询师处理自己的反移情 几年前，一次巴西柔术课结束后，我和一个正在做心理咨询的朋友在地垫上拉伸。ta突然问我：“你有喜欢和不喜欢的来访吗？” 我笑了笑，说：“有啊。” 人类咨询师和AI咨询师的差别就在这里——人类有自己的情绪、习惯和世界观，有对人的偏好。咨询关系说到底也是一种人际关系，哪怕它只存在于咨询室里，也同样充满张力。 每个咨询师对来访都会有自己的情感反应，这很正常。对来访产生负面情绪，也是咨询过程中的一部分。我最近还做了一个梦，我的一个来访，一个咨询起来我也感觉吃力的来访。梦里，我在类似体育场看台的地方见到了ta，一向很内敛亲和的ta突然起来攻击我，我愣住了，后来ta跑走了，过了一段时间，我去找ta，想确认ta是不是一切都好。在梦境里，我在处理工作中出现的困惑、沮丧和挫败感，我也看到了我自己对来访不弃不离的关心。咨询师的这个工作，避免不了这些常见情绪，而是去感受它们、调整它们，在咨询中和来访一起去校准两个人的位置和相处模式。这个动态的过程，本身就是疗愈。 我在写璇璇的故事时，多次谈到自己的反移情（请阅读璇璇咨询故事第三章）。在“真我”的帮助下，也让我更真切的接触到她内心难以用言语表达的，在成长过程受到家暴，形成的创伤，我慢慢从咨询瓶颈中的沮丧、困惑里，找到了一条新的路。IFS的工作方法，需要咨询师不断的和自己的“真我”接触，这个过程本身就在保护咨询师，不断的调节自己的情绪和咨询室里的张力。 疗愈本身，是被看见、被共情。但当咨询师和来访有着不同的经历、不同的观点时，依然选择走向ta，去托举ta——这样的托举，才更有意义。 咨询最高境界：无招胜有招 我并不是一名认证的IFS咨询师，没有付费认证，不代表不能学习、不能思考。我写这一系列文章，从来不是以“IFS认证”的咨询师身份在说话，而是一个在实践中接触了IFS、被它深深触动、并且在持续整合它进入自己工作的咨询师，在分享我的所见、所思、所惑。 我入行时的培训，也就是我在莫纳西大学的心理咨询研究生学习中，根基在认知行为治疗（CBT）。之后，我学习过大量不同的流派，目前正在完成艾瑞克森催眠的培训。我喜欢不同的流派，不是因为我贪多，而是因为我越来越相信一件事： 任何好的咨询，都是给来访者量身定制的。 当我咨询的时间越久，就越难以回答“你到底是哪个流派的”。因为这个问题本身假设了一个前提——咨询师应该属于某个流派。但真实的咨询不是这样的。真实的咨询是：今天这一刻，面对这个来访者，ta需要什么？我能给ta什么？我用IFS的语言可能合适，用催眠的意想化可能更好，用CBT的框架可能更直接，有时候什么都不用，只是安静地陪着。 我相信，任何一个行业，专业到了一定程度之后，才敢有的自由。我也在这个通向这个自由的路上前进。 所以，请不要把我写的这些当作“IFS标准教程”。这只是我——一个从CBT出发、在路上遇到了IFS、EMDR、催眠和各种其他东西的咨询师——在某个阶段的记录和反思。 作为一个喜欢和习练格斗的心理咨询师，我深知在柔术课堂上学习每一个招数的重要性。但真正的格斗，从来都是在不同流派之间相互借鉴、融合。到了实战的那一刻，你需要忘记招式，完全融入与对手较量的当下——相信你的身体知道最好的应对是什么。 这何尝不是心理咨询？又何尝不是生活本身？ 所以最后这句话，送给在咨询师道路上、又或许只是心理学爱好者的你我： 无招胜有招。

This article was originally written in English by the author Qin Xiaojie (Counselor, Psychotherapist) and later translated into Chinese by DeepSeek, adhering to the original intent of the writing and the ethical principles of writing about client experiences. 文章由作者秦小杰（心理咨询师，心理治疗师）用英文文写作，后经Deepseek翻译成中文（向下滑动到后半部分可见），秉持：写作初心和来访咨询故事写作伦理原则。 Author: Xiaojie Qin Time: March 2026 Over the course of eleven chapters, I have offered a comprehensive introduction to the core concepts and my practical applications of Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy, illustrated through the therapy journeys of two clients, Rose and Xuanxuan. In this chapter, I want to take a step back and offer my broader perspective on what makes IFS distinctive—its strengths, its unique qualities. In shaping this chapter, I hold a particular question close, one I believe may also be on many readers' minds: Who, exactly, is IFS best suited for? I have never believed that any one therapeutic approach belongs to a specific type of person—a good therapy, in its own way, can touch almost anyone. But I have also come to see that when a therapy’s underlying philosophy meets a person’s inner landscape, healing can unfold more deeply, more smoothly, more naturally. What sets IFS apart is its radical trust in human nature—the belief that within every person lies a core Self that is whole, wise, and compassionate. This foundational assumption resonates deeply with humanistic psychology, yet it also moves beyond it. Humanistic therapy gives us direction; it tells us there is a trustworthy center within. IFS gives us a map—a step-by-step guide for how to get there, how to work with the “parts” that obscure the Self, how to make our way, slowly, back home. Through my own practice and reflection, I have found that IFS speaks particularly clearly to certain kinds of clients. High Achievers and Those with a Strong Need for Control They may present as perfectionistic, highly rational, and accustomed to being in control. Many who carry these traits are also what we call "high achievers." If you've read the earlier chapters, you'll recognize Xuanxuan as someone with these typical characteristics. Unlike Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT)—which can sometimes feel direct, even blunt—CBT identifies "cognitive distortions," and the therapist's goal is to help the client be aware of these distortions, challenge and reconstructuring them, as if knowing what's wrong is enough to fix it, and fixing it will make everything better. It's a clean, straight line on paper. But in real practice, the immediate results CBT can show often begin to reveal their limitations as therapy moves into the middle stage. That's where the deep trauma hides—at the threshold of "I know, but I still can't do it." In Chapter 2 of Xuanxuan's story, I wrote about this very dilemma that challenged our work together. The standard CBT model does not, in fact, delve deeply into trauma memory. (Of course, trauma-focused variations like TF-CBT have since been developed.) IFS takes a different path. It invites the client to turn toward the part that says "I can't," to listen to it, to witness it, to help it release what it has been carrying—and then, naturally, let the Self take the lead. In Chapter 6 of Xuanxuan's story, "The Waiting Room," I walk through a concrete counseling scene where this process unfolds in dialogue. This approach—one that does not dismantle defenses—is precisely what allows the protector to willingly step back. This gentleness, to me, is IFS's greatest strength. Rooted deeply in the humanistic tradition of acceptance and non-judgment, it invites you into conversation with your own parts. It is precisely this quality of gentleness and acceptance that allows the long-tense protectors to finally pause, to be willing to "unblend." IFS does not seek to "fix" you. It helps you create coherence—a kind of inner harmony—within your system. Clients Who Have Experienced Deep Trauma While everyone experiences some degree of hardship in life, not everyone has endured what we might call "deep trauma." In my practice, I sometimes invite certain clients to complete a simple questionnaire to help me understand their early experiences—the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) questionnaire. It covers traumas such as physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional neglect, domestic violence, parental divorce or loss, and household members struggling with incarceration or mental illness. The clients I've worked with—those navigating alcohol dependence, sex addiction, compulsive shopping, bipolar disorder, self-harm, or suicidal ideation—have often carried profound wounds. Among those struggling with severe anxiety and depression, some survived childhood sexual abuse. In 2021, when I co-founded Project A with Megan Purvis—an initiative focused on group and individual therapy for women recovering from domestic violence—I witnessed firsthand the brutal reality of physical and emotional abuse within intimate relationships. (If you're interested in learning more about group counseling, domestic violence recovery, or trauma-related work, please refer to the compiled resource on this topic: Healing from Domestic Violence). Trauma is delicate ground in therapy. Handled poorly, it can wound again. During the years I facilitated community mental health support groups, I often heard people say: "Every time I switch therapists, I have to retell my whole childhood trauma story. It's exhausting." Some had given up on therapy altogether. It seemed those therapists, eager to gather information, pushed forward too quickly—without fully considering where the client was in that moment, how to stabilize them, or how to pace the work. Let's begin with a foundational question: Who leads in therapy? Different schools answer differently. In psychoanalysis, the therapist, as interpreter, takes a strongly guiding role. Humanistic therapy hands the lead back to the client, trusting in their innate capacity for growth. CBT falls somewhere in between—the therapist acts as an "expert of the process of change", collaborating with the client to set the agenda. But when we narrow the question—who leads when working with clients carrying severe trauma? In the trauma field, there is a core principle I've heard echoed in supervision again and again, one colleagues remind each other of constantly: The client leads in pace and depth; the therapist leads in structure. Why? Because trauma, at its heart, is about loss of control. In the moment it happened, the client lost agency over their body and their environment. Healing, then, requires that they reclaim that sense of control. If a therapist pushes forward—even with the best intentions—they risk recreating, in form if not in content, the very experience of being controlled by another. I remember working with a teenage client. Months into our sessions, they still spent most of our time recounting recent events—the same themes circling back, again and again. There were cognitive patterns that needed attention, but we never seemed to reach that "problem-solving" stage. One day, I decided to interrupt. For most clients, an interruption is fine—therapy is, after all, a dialogue. But for this young person—so alone, so hungry for control—that interruption reopened an old wound: No one wants to hear me. They slipped into a hypo-aroused state, grew foggy, leaned back down and drifted into sleep. This wasn't an isolated incident. In my work with Xuanxuan (Chapter 5 of her story), a similar moment arose—though by then, my skills had matured, and I was better able to hold her when she became overwhelmed. That session taught me something indelible: as therapists, we don't know, at first glance, where trauma lives. Looking back, I see now that for that young client, simply being heard was the therapeutic work. What I should have done was not redirect the conversation, but gently guide them to notice the part that kept circling—and get curious about it. I've also been on the other side of the room. Once, during my own therapy, my therapist asked directly about a major trauma in my life—and then pressed for details. I didn't want to go there. It didn't feel like the right time. But I trusted them, so I answered, question after question. I was led, step by step, through the telling of a deep wound. When I left, my scalp tingled. Inside, I felt numb. It was not a good session. Trauma memories are stored in the nonverbal regions of the brain. When clients are asked to "narrate" their trauma without controlling the pace or depth, they can easily slip into a stress response—the language centers of the brain essentially go offline. This doesn't just fail to support healing; it can cause real harm. What makes IFS different is this: it does not ask clients to dredge up childhood memories or recount traumatic events again and again. Instead, it invites them, in the present moment, to turn toward the wounded exile—the part that carries the pain. That part may have been born in childhood, but it lives here now, in the body, in the emotions. We listen to the voice that has never been heard. We let it know: You are no longer that age. You are safe now. None of this means the therapist is passive. We hold the container. We watch the protectors. We help the client return to the present when they begin to drown. And beneath it all lies a crucial technical foundation—the "Waiting Room." Only when the client's protectors are ready can we safely approach the trauma. This is a practice of patient waiting—and a form of profound guardianship. Clients Who Resist Being Defined by Traditional Diagnostic Labels If you've read my writing principles and intentions, you'll notice that throughout my work, I consciously try avoiding reducing clients to their diagnostic labels. Labels are a double-edged sword. As a therapist who once lived under the weight of a "bipolar disorder" label myself, I carry a deep, personal understanding of what labels can do. For some, receiving a diagnosis for the first time brings a sense of relief—it offers explanation, accommodation, even a certain kind of protection. But there is another side. Unconsciously, when maintaining the label becomes tied to preserving those benefits, a person can find themselves trapped within its description. And that, I believe, can profoundly hinder the unfolding of one's potential—the kind of self-actualization Maslow placed at the very peak of human development. Real healing and growth, to me, is ultimately a process of shedding the label. It is about coming to terms with one's uniqueness and finding a way to live alongside it—recognizing that the very traits hidden behind the struggle can, in other contexts, become invaluable resources. This is where IFS's foundational logic shines. Its core premise, in the words of founder Dr. Richard Schwartz, is simple: There are no bad parts. In an IFS introduction video I watched on YouTube, he put it this way: "There are no bad parts. It’s the nature of mind to be multiple. People with the diagnosis of DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) are of no difference than anybody in this workshop, except that their system got blown up more by the horrific trauma that they suffer every day. The alters called in DID are what I call parts. It’s the nature of the mind to be multiple, it isn’t the product of trauma. that’s the mistake of the DID world makes is to say that the nature of the mind is unitary. And the parts are pathological. There are no bad parts as a core thing! the main part of IFS treatment is having conversations with the parts, letting the parts talk, rather than silence and blame the parts." In his book No Bad Parts, Dr. Schwartz emphasizes again and again: the heart of IFS work is not to silence parts or blame them, but to enter into dialogue with them—to let them speak. Healing becomes possible only when we stop treating parts as "problems to be eliminated" and begin seeing them as "presences worthy of being heard." Clients on a Spiritual Path or Seeking Meaning and Purpose In reflecting on which clients have responded most deeply to IFS in my practice, I've noticed a common thread. They tend to be people who engage in some form of inner exploration—those who meditate, who are willing to sit with difficult emotions, who hold a relatively open stance toward life and its questions. IFS, as a bottom-up therapeutic modality, largely bypasses the prefrontal cortex. It works through sensory awareness, through direct engagement with the subconscious. In Chapter 2 of Xuanxuan's story, I described how some of these techniques might strike certain people as a little "woo-woo"—and if you're curious what that actually looks like in a session, I invite you to read it. But it is precisely this willingness to step outside rigid scientific formalism that allows us to touch the territories where empirical methods have no answers—the ultimate questions, the ineffable. Clients with Somatic Symptoms Some clients arrive with physical complaints that medicine cannot explain—chronic pain, chest tightness, digestive issues. IFS understands these symptoms as parts of the psyche speaking through the body. As a bottom-up therapy, it guides clients to listen—really listen—to what lies beneath the physical sensation. And when they do, something shifts. The symptoms themselves often begin to change. This is a gentle path of mind-body integration. And here, IFS overlaps significantly with somatic therapy. Both traditions share a fundamental conviction: the body holds what has not been fully felt, what has not yet found its way into words. IFS is not yet a widely known modality. When I was writing this series, I searched across major websites in China and found very limited resources available. Whether you are a client seeking a healing path that truly fits you, or a therapist exploring new approaches to bring into your practice, I hope this chapter offers you a clear and grounded reference. 作者：秦小杰 时间：2026年3月 至此，我已通过十一章的篇幅，借助蕊芬和璇璇两位来访者的咨询案例，完整地介绍了内在家庭系统疗法（IFS）的核心理论与实践应用。 在这一章，我想从整体视角来谈谈IFS的特色与优势。而在组织这一章时，我有一个特别的关切——我相信这也是读者们最迫切想知道的问题： 究竟哪类人群适合内在家庭系统疗法？ 我从不认为某种疗法只适用于某一类人——好的疗法总能以某种方式触及人心。但我也看到，当疗法的底层逻辑与一个人的内在特质相遇时，疗愈会来得更深、更顺、更自然。IFS的独特之处在于，它对人性持有一种根本性的信任——相信每个人内在都有一个完整、智慧、充满慈悲的“真我”。这种底层逻辑与人本主义心理学深度呼应，却又超越了它：人本主义为我们指明了方向，告诉我们每个人都有一个值得信任的内在核心；而IFS则提供了一张具体的路线图，告诉我们如何抵达那里，如何与那些遮挡真我的“部分”工作，如何一步步‘回家’。 在我的实践和反思中，我发现IFS尤其能够回应以下几类来访者的需求。 高成就者与有较强控制需求的来访者 他们可能表现为完美主义、高度理性、习惯掌控一切，很多具有这些特征的人也是“高成就者”。如果你读过我之前的章节，会发现来访者璇璇 (第一章：高功能外表下的双相风暴与咨询困局) 就是一个具有这些典型特征的人。 与认知行为疗法（CBT）不同——CBT有时会显得直接，它会界定哪些是“认知扭曲”，咨询师的工作目标就是帮助来访者纠正这些扭曲，仿佛只要知道哪里错了，就能改好，改好了就一切都好了。这是一条很理想的直线图。真实的咨询中，CBT的立竿见影的效果，当跟来访咨询进入到中期，就会显现出局限性，因为创伤深处藏着的就是，我知道但是我做不到的那个关卡，在璇璇的咨询故事第二章中，我也写出了我们咨询的一个大的困扰。CBT的标准模式确实较少直接处理创伤记忆。当然，后来发展出了针对创伤的CBT变式（如Trauma-Focused CBT）。 IFS邀请来访去那个“我做不到”的部分，去聆听去见证去释放掉包袱，然后由“真我”自然接管。我在撰写来访璇璇咨询故事的第六章等候室，就用具体的咨询场景描述了这部分是如何在对话中展开的。这种不强行解除防御的方式，恰恰让控制者愿意退后一步。 IFS的这种温和，在我看来，是它巨大的优势。它深刻地带着人本主义式的接纳、不评判的态度，邀请你与自己的部分对话。正因为这份温和与接纳，那些长期紧绷的保护者才愿意停下来，才愿意“去融合”。它不试图“修正”你，而是帮助你创造一个内在系统的“ 和谐 ”。 经历过深度创伤的来访者 尽管所有人一生中都会经历一定程度的创伤，但并非所有人都经历过“深度的创伤”。在我咨询中，部分来访我会让他们做一个简单的问卷，帮助我了解他们的童年经历——儿童期不良经历问卷。这份问卷涉及的创伤包括：身体虐待、性虐待、情感忽视、家庭暴力、父母离异或丧失、家庭成员入狱或患有精神疾病等。 我接触过的来访者，从酗酒者、性成瘾、购物成瘾到、双相情感障碍患者，到有自伤历史、自杀倾向的个体，很多都经历过严重的创伤。有着严重特定焦虑和抑郁的来访中，有些在童年也遭受过性侵。2021年，在我与Megan Purvis合作创立Project A——专注为家暴女性康复提供团体和个体咨询时，我更是目睹了亲密关系中极为严重的肢体暴力和情感暴力。（如果你有兴趣了解团体咨询、家暴康复、创伤等相关信息，请打开收藏这篇关于此话题的总汇：家暴康复）. 创伤在咨询中是一个需要小心处理的主题，因为处理不当确实有可能让来访者再次受伤。我记得，在我引导社区心理健康互助小组的那几年，不止一次听到大家说：换了咨询师后，又要重新讲述童年的悲惨遭遇，身心疲惫，也有人因此放弃了咨询。听起来，那些咨询师从一开始就有较强的引导，急于收集资料、了解来访，却对来访当下的状态、如何稳定情绪、如何推进咨询过程，考虑得不够周全。 先问一个基础问题：在咨询工作中，谁来主导？ 不同流派对这个问题的回答各不相同。精神分析取向中，咨询师作为诠释者，承担着较强的引导角色；人本主义则将主导权交还给来访，相信来访者自身有成长的动力；而CBT介于两者之间，咨询师作为“专家”，与来访合作制定议程。 但当我们把问题进一步聚焦——在跟有严重创伤的来访工作时，谁来主导？ 在创伤领域，有一个基本原则，是我在督导过程中反复听到的，也是同行交流时常用来提醒彼此的：来访者主导节奏和深度，咨询师主导安全和框架。 为什么？因为创伤的本质是“失控”——在创伤发生的瞬间，来访者失去了对自己身体和环境的掌控。治疗的修复过程，恰恰需要让来访者重新体验“掌控感”。如果咨询师强行推进，即使内容正确，也可能在形式上重复“被他人掌控”的创伤体验。 我记得跟一个青少年来访工作了几个月后，ta仍然乐此不疲地讲述最近发生的事情，同样的话题反复出现，而ta的认知有部分需要调整，但咨询似乎很难进入“解决问题”的环节。终于有一次，我决定打断ta。对于大部分来访，打断是可以接受的，咨询本就是两个人交流的过程。但对于这个孤单、又需要很多掌控感的小来访来说，那次的打断让ta再次体验到了创伤——那种没有人愿意听我讲话的创伤。ta当下就进入到低唤起状态，整个人开始浑浑噩噩，居然睡了过去；来访瞬间混沌要入睡的情况在咨询室里并非孤例。在跟人到中年的璇璇咨询时（见璇璇咨询故事第五章），也出现过类似的情形——好在那个时候我的咨询技术更成熟了一些，在她应激时，我能够更好地托举住她。 那次咨询给我留下很深的印象：创伤在哪里，作为咨询师，我们不是见到来访的那一刻就知道的。现在回想起来，对于这个来访而言，能有人听ta讲话，本身就是有效的咨询过程。当时我不该转移话题，而应该引导ta去关注那个不断重复的部分，去了解它。 我自己在接受心理咨询时，也有过一次不好的体验。有一次，咨询师直接问到我生命中一个非常大的创伤，追问了很多细节。我当时并不想聊这些，并不觉得是时候。但我本着对咨询师的信任，回答了每一个问题。整个过程就是一问一答，我被牵着去描述一个很大的创伤。离开咨询室时，我头皮发麻，内心有一种麻痹的感受。 创伤记忆存储在大脑的非语言区域。当来访者被要求“讲述”创伤时，如果节奏和深度不由他们控制，很容易触发应激反应，导致大脑的语言中枢基本离线——这不仅无法进行有效的治疗性加工，还可能造成二次创伤。 IFS的独特之处在于，它不要求我们去大量回忆童年细节，更不需要反复讲述创伤事件，而是邀请我们在当下与那个受伤的流放者对话——它可能来自童年，但此刻它就活在我们的身体和情绪里。我们去体会它从未能被听见的声音，让它知道：它已经不是当时的那个年纪了，它已经脱离危险了。 当然，咨询师并非完全被动。我们负责提供稳定的容器、观察保护者的状态、在来访者被淹没时帮助ta回到当下。这背后有一个关键的技术支撑——“等候室”。只有来访的保护者部分准备好了，我们才能与创伤对话。这是一场需要耐心的等待，也是一份值得的守护。 不想被传统诊断标签束缚的来访 大家如果读了我的来访故事写作原则和初心，就能看到，我在写作中会尽量弱化对来访症状的标签化。标签是一把双刃剑。做为一个心理咨询师，我曾经也背负着“双相情感障碍”生活过，我对标签有着深刻的体验。一方面，一些人在拿到诊断后，会有某种释然的感受。它可能带来理解、特殊安排甚至某种程度的保护；另一方面，潜意识若在维持这些利益往往需要保留标签，于是人便不得不在标签的描述下继续生活，而这会严重阻碍一个人自我潜力的发展和马斯洛理论顶层的自我实现。 我相信，真正的康复以及自我成长，最终都是一个撕掉标签的过程，去正视自己的独特、并找到方式与之共存，那些问题后背的特质，往往在另一些时候，是宝贵的资源。而IFS的底层逻辑，恰好能够很好地做到这一点。IFS的核心前提，用创始人理查德·施瓦茨博士的话来说，就是“没有坏的部分”。我曾在油管的一个IFS介绍视频中，听到他这样的描述： “心智的本质就是多元的。被诊断为分离型人格障碍（也曾被称为多重人格障碍）的人，和这个工作坊（当时他在现场教学）里的其他人没有任何不同，只不过他们的系统被每天经历的可怕创伤冲击得更严重而已。DID中所称的‘人格’，就是我所说的‘部分’。心智的多元性不是创伤的产物，而是心智本来的样子。DID 领域的误区在于认为心智的本质是单一的，而‘部分’是病态的。” 施瓦茨博士在《没有坏部分》一书中反复强调：IFS 治疗的核心，不是让部分沉默，也不是指责它们，而是与各个部分对话，让它们说话。当我们不再把部分视为“需要消灭的问题”，而是“值得倾听的存在”，疗愈才有了真正的可能。 灵性追寻者与探索人生意义以及困境的来访 在我的工作中，当我反思哪几个来访对IFS的反应非常好的时候，他们都有共同的特质，一是都会日常做深心灵的探索，会做冥想，愿意去体验自己的负面情绪，对人生已经保持相对较开放的态度。 作为一个由下至少的心理咨询流派，咨询过程本身就大量饶过大脑前额叶，通过感官察觉，来跟潜意识工作。璇璇咨询故事的第二章，我就提到了咨询过程，部分人也许会觉得一些工作手法有点“神叨叨”的，具体在咨询中是如何体验的，请大家阅读。但就是这种仿佛不严谨的过程，让我们得以去触碰科学方法没有答案的终极领域。 躯体化症状人群 一些来访者带着医院查不出原因的身体症状而来——慢性疼痛、胸闷、肠胃不适。IFS将这些症状理解为“部分”在通过身体说话。作为一个“自下而上”的治疗方法，咨询师会引导来访者学会倾听这些身体感受背后的“部分”，症状往往会发生变化。这是一种温和的身心整合路径。在这一点上，IFS和躯体化疗法重合度极高，两者都相信身体承载着未被处理的情绪与记忆。 IFS并不是一个常见的流派，我写这一系列文章时，在我中国国内的主要网站上做过搜索，有的资源非常少。无论你是一位正在寻找适合自己疗愈方式的来访者，还是一位正在探索新疗法的咨询师，我都希望通过这一章的梳理，为你提供一份清晰的参照。

This article was originally written in English by the author Qin Xiaojie (Counselor, Psychotherapist) and later translated into Chinese by DeepSeek, adhering to the original intent of the writing and the ethical principles of writing about client experiences. 文章由作者秦小杰（心理咨询师，心理治疗师）用英文文写作，后经Deepseek翻译成中文（向下滑动到后半部分可见），秉持：写作初心和来访咨询故事写作伦理原则. Author: Xiaojie Qin Time: Feb 2026 The Work of Reintegration Shamanic unburdening is, without question, a pivotal step in Internal Family Systems Therapy (IFS). When an exile releases what it has carried for so long, something shifts. The client often reports feeling lighter—not in a conceptual way, but physically, palpably. And in the weeks that follow, we may begin to notice something else emerging: a playfulness at the heart. A singer. A dancer. A painter. Qualities that had been buried under the weight now rise, gently, to the surface. But unburdening alone is not the end. The exile has been freed, yes. But the rest of the system may not yet know. This is where reintegration begins. Inviting the Protectors to Witness For years—decades, perhaps—the protectors (See Chapter 7 to understand protectors from a client case of mine) have been doing their jobs. The managers, with their rigid principles and relentless vigilance, have worked overtime to keep the system orderly and safe. The firefighters, reactive and fierce, have rushed in at any sign of the exile's pain, doing whatever it took to extinguish the flames. They have not yet received the news: the exile is no longer carrying that weight. The danger has passed. Reintegration, then, is an act of communication. We invite the protectors to meet the unburdened exile. Like the unburdening itself, this process typically unfolds through visualization. There is something about imagery that bypasses our logical defenses and speaks directly to the subconscious—and it is the client's own Self (a key concept in IFS, see Chapter 5), with its innate wisdom and compassion, that guides the way. As always in IFS, the client remains the true leader. Some prefer a strongly guided visualization; others need only the barest suggestion and space to let their inner world unfold. If I am offering a gentle, spacious invitation, I might say something like: “Close your eyes when you're ready. Take a moment to find your exile—the one we worked with before. Notice what they look like now. Where are they? What are they doing? Just observe, with curiosity. And when you feel ready, let them know that you'd like to bring them to meet the manager, and the firefighter—the parts that have worked so hard to protect them.” If the client prefers more structure—or if the protectors need some nudges—I might offer a stronger container: “Now imagine the manager, the one who has held such tight control. Watch as their eyes meet the exile's. Notice if anything shifts—perhaps just a little. The shoulders, so long raised in vigilance, may soften. The chest, so tightly guarded, may feel a degree lighter. The exile is safe now. The manager can begin to rest.” There is, I am aware, a deep resonance here with hypnotherapeutic language. This is not accidental. In later chapters, I will explore more explicitly where IFS and hypnotherapy converge, and also with other modalities. When the Visualization Ends The session does not need to conclude with grand resolution. Often, the most profound reintegrations are quiet ones. A protector who has never paused now pauses, if only for a moment. The visualization comes to a natural close. Eyes open. The first cycle of cleansing and realignment is complete. But it is only the first. Healing Is Not a Single Event: The Ankle Metaphor Think of a broken ankle that never received proper rehabilitation. The injury itself may have healed, but you now walk with a limp. Other muscles—your hip, your lower back, the opposite leg—have spent months or years compensating for the weakness. They have worked overtime, grown tight and fatigued, taken on roles they were never meant to play. The ankle is no longer in pain, but the system is still organized around the injury. This is exactly what happens inside an IFS system even after trauma occurred. The protectors—the managers and firefighters—have spent years, sometimes decades, compensating. They have developed rigid habits, reflexive responses, whole strategies of survival built around the burden. They do not automatically relax just because the original pain is gone. They need to relearn their roles. They need to trust that the danger has truly passed. Rehabilitation, whether for an ankle or an internal psychological system, requires repetition. You do not simply declare the injury healed and resume running. You practice specific movements. You strengthen particular muscles. You retrain the joint to bear weight again, slowly, with patience and consistency. The same is true here. The protectors need multiple encounters with the unburdened exile. They need evidence, accumulated over time, that the system no longer requires their vigilance. One of the most common phenomena in therapy—I hesitate to call it a mistake, because it is so understandable—is that clients stop coming precisely when they begin to feel better. The relief is real. The burden has lifted, for the first time. They assume the work is done. But relief is not yet reorganization. The limp may be gone, but the compensatory patterns remain. Without continued attention, the system may eventually revert to its old habits, not because the exile is suffering again, but because the protectors have not yet learned how to rest. This is why I advocate for continued sessions after unburdening, because integration is part of the therapy—and integration takes time. What Gradual Change Looks Like One of my clients, who had long been highly triggered by her mother in every encounter, shared something with me in a session about four months since our trauma work together. “I received an email from her, and hasn’t responded to it. Actually, I genuinely forgot about it. It wasn't a deliberate choice. It wasn't me trying to ignore it or set a boundary. My mind simply left it unattended because other, more alive things in my life were already occupying the space. The email arrived, and it just sat there. It just happened so organically.” She did not say she felt nothing. She did not say she decided to not reply. She said her mind didn't react with the same intensity. It didn't consume her. The email arrived, and life continued without being hijacked by it as in the past. That is what gradual change looks like. Not a dramatic transformation overnight, but a subtle shift in the system's default response. A moment of pause where there once was only reaction. A crack of light where there once was only shutdown. The ankle no longer needs to break the alignment of bones to accommodate its movement. These shifts accumulate. They are the evidence that the system is learning to reorganize itself—not around the burden, not around compensatory protectors, but around the Self (the qualities of 8Cs). And that is not the end of healing. It is a sign that healing, real healing, has finally begun. After eleven chapters, I hope the client stories and therapeutic insights shared through my lens have given you a sense of what Internal Family Systems Therapy is—and what it can be. In my next chapter, I will attempt to discuss the strengths of IFS. Someday, I will write an article on the convergences I find with amongst modalities that I am familiar with, and that would include IFS. 作者：秦小杰 时间：2026年2月 内心整合的工作 萨满式的去负担化，无疑是内在家庭系统疗法中的关键一步。当一个流放者卸下它长久背负的重担时，某种转变便发生了。来访者往往会报告一种如释重负的轻盈感——这不是概念上的理解，而是身体上的、可感知的。而在接下来的几周里，我们可能开始注意到另一种东西在浮现：发自内心的嬉戏感。一个歌者、一个舞者、一个画家。那些曾被重压深埋的特质，开始轻柔地浮现出来。 但去负担化本身并非终点。流放者确实获得了自由。然而，系统的其他部分可能还不知情。 这正是整合开始的地方。 邀请保护者见证 多年来——甚至是几十年——保护者们 一直在履行他们的职责。管理者们，带着他们僵化的原则和不懈的警惕，加班加点地维持着系统的秩序与安全。消防员们，反应迅速而激烈，一有流放者痛苦的迹象就冲上前去，不惜一切代价扑灭火焰。他们还没有收到消息：流放者已经不再背负那个重担。危险已经过去了。 因此，整合的本质，就是一次内在的沟通。我们邀请保护者去见那个已卸下负担的流放者。 与去负担化本身一样，这个过程通常通过意想化展开。意象有一种特质，它能绕开我们的逻辑防御，直接与潜意识对话——而引导这一切的，是来访者自身的“真我”，带着它与生俱来的智慧与同理心，引导着整个过程。在内在家庭系统疗法中，来访者始终是真正的引领者。有些人偏好高度引导的意想化；另一些人则只需要最少的提示和空间，让他们的内在世界自行展开。 在实际操作中，如果我想给予来访者充分的自主空间，我可能会这样引导： “当你准备好时，请闭上眼睛。花点时间找到你的流放者——我们之前一起工作的那个。留意ta现在是什么样子。ta在哪里？ta在做什么？只是带着好奇去观察。当你感到准备好了，让ta知道，你想带ta去见见管理者和消防员——那些一直如此努力保护ta的部分。” 如果来访者偏好更多结构——或者如果保护者们需要一些轻柔的推动——我可能会提供一个更强的引导框架: “现在想象那位管理者，那个一直紧紧掌控一切的部分。看着ta的目光与流放者相遇。留意是否有任何变化——哪怕只是一点点。那双肩，长期因警觉而高耸，或许会松缓下来。那胸口，一直被严密守护，或许会感到一丝轻松。流放者现在安全了。管理者可以开始休息了。” 也许你也感受到了，这里的引导与催眠疗愈的语言有着深刻的共鸣。这并非偶然。在后续的章节中，我将更明确地探讨内在家庭系统疗法与催眠疗愈的交汇之处，以及与其他疗法的交汇之处。 意想化结束时 这场疗愈的旅程，并不需要一个宏大的收尾。最深刻的整合，往往是悄然发生的。一个从未停歇过的保护者，此刻停了下来，哪怕只有一瞬。意想自然结束，双眼缓缓睁开。第一轮的净化与重新调整，完成了。 但这，仅仅是第一轮。 疗愈不是一次性事件：脚踝的隐喻 想象一下，一个脚踝受伤了，却从未得到妥善的康复训练。伤口本身也许愈合了，但你现在走路却一瘸一拐。其他肌肉——你的髋部、你的下背部、你的另一条腿——多年以来一直代偿这个弱点。它们超时工作，变得紧绷、疲劳，承担着它们本不该承担的角色。脚踝不再疼痛，但整个身体系统仍然围绕着旧伤在运转。 这正是内在家庭系统疗法中，当我们内在的一个部分受到创伤后的内心系统反应。 保护者们——那些管理者和消防员——花了几年，甚至几十年的时间在代偿。它们围绕着那个负担，发展出了僵化的习惯、条件反射般的反应、一整套生存策略。它们并不会因为原有的痛苦消失了就自动放松下来。它们需要重新学习自己的角色。它们需要真正相信，危险已经过去了。 康复训练，无论是针对脚踝还是针对内在系统，都需要重复。你不能简单地宣布伤已经好了，然后就重新开始奔跑。你要练习特定的动作，强化特定的肌肉，重新训练那个关节去承受重量——慢慢地、带着耐心、持续不断地练习。 内在心理系统也是如此。保护者们需要多次与卸下负担后的流放者相遇。它们需要日积月累的证据，来确信这个系统不再需要它们时刻保持警惕。 心理咨询中有一个特别普遍的现象，说来有些无奈却也格外能理解：很多来访者恰恰是在感觉“我好多了”的时候，就停止了咨询。那种咨询中的解脱感是真实的。负担确实卸下了。他们以为工作已经完成。但解脱感还不等于系统重组。一瘸一拐也许消失了，但代偿的模式仍然存在。如果没有持续的关注，系统最终可能会回到旧有的习惯，不是因为流放者再次受苦，而是因为保护者们还没有学会如何放松。 这就是为什么我主张在去负担化之后继续咨询一段时间，因为整合本身就是疗愈的一部分——而整合，需要时间。 疗愈真实的样子：悄然的改变 我有一个来访，背负着童年很多的创伤，成年后跟母亲的每一次接触，也都被受折磨。我和她在咨询中，以体验式疗法为主，其中包括很多系统家庭疗法的应用。在我们进行创伤治疗的四个月时，在一次咨询中，她说起最近都生活。 “我收到了母亲的一封邮件，一直没有回复。实际上，我是真的忘了。这不是刻意为之，不是想忽略她，也不是在划清什么界限。我的头脑自然而然就把它放在一边了，因为我生活中有其他更鲜活的事，已经占满了那个空间。邮件来了，就静静地待在那里。一切都发生得那么自然。” 她没有说自己毫无感觉，也没有说自己决定不回。她说的是，她的头脑不再像过去那样激烈地反应了。那封邮件没有像从前那样，占据她大部分脑容量。邮件来了，生活继续，却再也没有被它打乱过。 这就是渐进的变化。不是一夜之间的戏剧性转变，而是系统默认反应模式的悄然迁移。曾经只剩条件反射的地方，多了一个停顿的瞬间；曾经只剩封闭的地方，透进了一缕光。脚踝不再需要扭曲自己来迁就每一步的迈出。 这些微小的变化，在日复一日中悄然累积。它们是系统正在重新自我组织的明证——不再是围绕着那个沉重的负担，不再是围绕着那些过度代偿的保护者，而是围绕着真我，重新归位。 而这，并不是疗愈的终点。这是一个信号，表明疗愈——真正的疗愈——终于开始了。 写了十一章，我希望通过这些来访者的故事，以及透过我的视角所呈现的咨询洞见，能让你对内在家庭系统疗法是什么——以及它可以成为什么——有了一些感知。 在下一章，我将尝试探讨内在家庭系统疗法的优势。在以后的日子里，我也会抽时间写一篇我较熟知的咨询疗法的交汇之处，其中会包括内在家庭系统疗法。

This article was originally written in Chinese by the author Qin Xiaojie (Counselor, Psychotherapist) and later translated into English by DeepSeek, adhering to the original intent of the writing and the ethical principles of writing about client experiences. 文章由作者秦小杰（心理咨询师，心理治疗师）用中文写作（向下滑动到后半部分可见），后经Deepseek翻译成英文，秉持：写作初心和来访咨询故事写作伦理原则。 Author: Xiaojie Qin Time: Feb 2026 When we successfully use the 'waiting room' technique to temporarily place the protectors of the exiles there, we can proceed to the stage of working with the exiles: unburdening. An exile carrying burdens—what does it become once freed from them? Haven’t we all heard the saying, 'We must preserve a childlike heart'? When the exile heals from the state of suffering caused by systemic dysregulation, it returns to its essence: a child with intense curiosity, a dancer who sways to the rhythm of music, an organic being capable of feeling love and sorrow. As a therapist who values empirical evidence and as a practitioner who believes in the power of experience, the unburdening phase in IFS is, in my view, a ritualistic cleansing—a renewal of the internal perceptual system inspired by ancient wisdom and ceremony. It is, to me, the application of ancient wisdom in a scientific manner. The Four-Step Process of Working with Exiles in Internal Family Systems Therapy (IFS) Before delving into the core concepts and applications of this chapter, let us briefly review the steps involved in working with exiles. To better present these steps, I will continue to illustrate using the case of the client “Xuanxuan”. It is important to clarify that the following narrative builds upon the specific imagery of “a cassette tape in the chest,” which genuinely emerged during the therapy sessions. Subsequently, for the sake of clarity and structured demonstration of each counseling step, I have reconstructed and presented the process in an illustrative manner. Step 1: Connecting with the "Self". Anyone who has worked with me knows—whether in group workshops or individual sessions—I often begin or conclude activities with breathing exercises. This seemingly simple and time-consuming practice is, in fact, one of the most straightforward and effective ways to connect with the “Self.” Step 2: Localization and Concretization. This step involves locating where the burden resides in the body or mind and then visualizing it as a concrete image. For example, in the second chapter of Xuanxuan’s therapy story, she described a cassette tape in her chest constantly playing recordings of self-blame. We can further explore this “burden” by making it more tangible—such as asking whether the voice is male or female, how old it sounds, its pace, and so on. Xuanxuan might say: “The voice is that of a man in his forties, very similar to my father’s. He sounds angry, towering over me, as if he could grab me at any moment and strike me.” Step 3: Witnessing and Separation. I would closely observe Xuan’s breathing rhythm, depth, and facial expressions while gently reminding her to stay attuned to her breath and maintain her connection with the “Self.” At the same time, I might offer stronger guidance: “Let your ‘Self’—the part of you that embodies wisdom, strength, and compassion—gently reach out like a skilled surgeon, softly and precisely remove the cassette tape from your chest, place it on a surgical tray, and deftly stitch the opening closed. Now observe the tape. It is no longer moving with your heartbeat or breath. The sound from the tape has faded, perhaps soon stopping altogether. Let us simply witness this tape together.” Step 4: Release and Transformation. This is the core step of the process, drawing upon the cleansing power of the four shamanic elements. Release and transformation rely on the four fundamental elements of nature: water, fire, earth, and air. What we invoke here is not some mysterious theoretical concept but rather the sensory and survival memories shared by all humanity. I recall a profound shamanic ritual I experienced in Brazil, which included fire, earth, the gentle outdoor breeze, and water cups placed beside each participant. In Chinese culture, we also have the five elements: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. Shamanic culture—difficult to trace to a single origin, as similar traditions have been found worldwide—represents one of humanity’s oldest customs and can be understood as a manifestation of our collective unconscious. The unburdening process in IFS translates the ancient intuition of release and transformation from shamanic traditions into a modern, inner ritual language that the psyche can comprehend and safely enact. Suffering must be felt, witnessed, and then allowed to “leave” the body in a perceptible way. This is precisely what shamanic traditions across the globe have done for millennia: through ritual, expelling or transforming illness or malevolent spirits—symbolic burdens—from the individual. The Ritual of Healing: A Dialogue with Humanity's Collective Sensory Memory In therapy, the shamanic rituals of the fourth step typically involve closing the eyes and reconstructing the senses through mentally constructed imagery. Whether for purification, transformation, or rebirth, this process serves as a profound psychological symbolic language, enabling direct dialogue with our subconscious. (Based on my limited understanding of shamanic culture—though I have some personal experience and basic knowledge—I have sought to accurately distill its essence. The following section was crafted primarily through my questions, reflections, and revisions to align with my perspective, with DeepSeek completing the explanation of shamanic culture.) The elements chosen in shamanic culture—light/fire, water, earth, fire, and wind—are not accidental. They serve as a universal language of healing for the following reasons: They are the prerequisites for survival. When searching for signs of life on other planets, we look for these very elements. They represent universal sensory experiences. Whether from rainforests, deserts, or tundras, every child understands the warmth of sunlight on their skin, the coolness of flowing water over their palms, the weight of soil between their fingers, the light and heat of fire, and the refreshing touch of a gentle breeze. These experiences bypass all cultural and linguistic barriers, speaking directly to our nervous systems. They form the most fundamental metaphorical system. Our language and thinking are inherently built upon them. Expressions like “a heart heavy as stone” (earth), “overflowing emotions” (water), “a ray of hope” (light), “burning passion” (fire), and “a sigh of relief” (wind) are not mere literary devices—they are instinctive ways our bodies interpret the world. Fire/Light: Awareness and Dissolution Fire/light is the ultimate purifier. In the ritual, we invite th e client to envision a warm, compassionate light shining upon the heavy burden. This light represents the awareness and unconditional love of the “Self.” Under this illumination, the burden loses its menace—melting like ice or dispersing like morning mist. This imagery speaks to the exiled part: You have always been seen, and this very act of witnessing marks the beginning of healing. Water: Flow and Purification Water is the cleanser and a symbol of emotion. We guide the client to place the burden—perhaps imagined as a dark stone or a tainted mass—into flowing, living water: a stream, a river, or a waterfall. Watching the current carry it away, washing it clean until it vanishes entirely. This ritual offers frozen emotions a channel to flow, symbolizing the release of stagnant pain back into the great river of life. Earth: Acceptance and Transformation Earth is the mother of all, the unconditional holder. In the imagination, we solemnly bury the burden deep in the soil. This is not abandonment but an act of entrusting. We trust Mother Earth to decompose and transform it into nourishment for new life. This gesture provides profound safety and belonging—a message that even the most unbearable pain can be fully embraced and eventually give birth to new vitality. Fire: Transformation and Resolution Fire is a powerful agent of energetic change. When facing particularly stubborn, clinging burdens—such as deep-seated shame—we may call upon the image of fire. Envision placing it into a sacred bonfire, watching it turn into light, heat, and a wisp of smoke in the flames. This symbolizes a decisive energetic shift: from a heavy material form into an ethereal state of energy, clearing sacred space for renewal. Wind: Release and Clarity Wind is the messenger, the breath. We may also bring the burden to an imagined mountaintop, lift it in our hands, and invite the spirit of the wind to scatter it into the boundless sky. This brings a sense of complete release and mental clarity—as if a fog of congestion has been swept from the heart, making way for the fresh breath of freedom. The Therapist: Navigator of the Healing Ritual As Xuan closes her eyes and continues the visualization process, I offer her the four elements from shamanic culture. She then chooses how to process the cassette tape in a way that resonates most deeply within her. Xuan might say, “I walk to a gravesite, as if visiting during Qingming Festival, and I throw the tape into a large fire.” I might then gently guide her: “Observe the flames, watching as the tape gradually burns away and transforms into air.” This stage may last three minutes or perhaps twenty. The process may encounter obstacles—for instance, a sudden gust of wind might extinguish the fire. Or it may proceed smoothly, with the sense of many companions supporting her in the visualization. In therapy, there is no way to predict exactly how each person’s ritual will unfold. In the “unburdening” ritual of IFS, the therapist’s role is more that of a skilled navigator and an empathetic witness rather than a directive leader. I often feel that IFS is a therapy that takes the person-centered philosophy of humanistic approaches to its fullest expression—it places immense trust in the client’s innate wisdom and capacity for healing. For clients who are accustomed to high levels of self-control and logical reasoning, this ritual, led entirely by their own “Self,” holds particularly liberating power. My work as a therapist is to actively safeguard this process, offering guidance only when needed to support the completion of their inner ritual. I listen as they describe how their imagery transforms and how their emotions flow. It is in such moments of witnessing that I have observed many profound and indescribable experiences: some clients are suddenly swept up by emotions suppressed for years (From Darkness to Light: The Imagery Transformation of Client Rose), while others, who have long suffered from a tangible “heaviness in the chest” undetectable by medical exams, watch in their imagination as that weight dissolves in light or is carried away by flowing water. Each of these moments deeply moves me and fills me with pride for the profound significance of my profession—we have the privilege of safeguarding and witnessing the innate healing power within a person as it unfolds. When the burden of the “exile” is lifted, it is like a deep wound finally cleansed. Yet this does not mark the end of healing but the beginning of a new phase: the growth and integration of new tissue. Other parts of the system need time to adapt, trust, and rebuild relationships. This is precisely what we will explore in the next chapter. 作者：秦小杰 时间：2026年2月 当我们成功用“等候室”的技巧，将流放者的保护者暂时安放在那里时。我们就可以进入到跟流放者工作的环节了：去负担化。 一个背着负担的流放者，当他没有这些负担了，他是什么呢？没有没听过那句话，我们要保有一颗童心。当流放者从系统紊乱中的痛苦状态中疗愈后，他会回归到其本质：一个有着强烈好奇心的孩童，一个听着音乐会随之摇摆的舞者，一个具有能力能去感受爱和悲伤的有机生物体。 作为一名追求实证的咨询师，也是作为一名相信体验力量的练习者，IFS的去负担化环节，甚是一个重制内部感知系统的借鉴古老智慧和仪式的洗礼，在我看来就是用科学的方式去应用古老的智慧。 内在家庭系统治疗（IFS）流放者工作的四部曲 在详细展开这一章的核心理念与应用之前，我们不妨先简要回顾一下跟流放者工作的步骤。 为帮助大家更好地理解与掌握，在接下来的讲解中，我将延续使用来访者“璇璇”的案例来进行说明。需要特别说明的是，下文铺垫于咨询中真实出现的‘胸口有一盘磁带’的具体意象。之后，为了清晰、结构化地展示每一个咨询环节应如何操作，我进行了编撰展示性重构与演示。 第一步：先让来访与“真我”连接。跟我工作过的人，都知道，无论是群里的工作坊，还是个体咨询，我会经常用呼吸训练来开始或结束一个活动。这个看似无聊而浪费时间的活动，其实是我们和“真我”连接的最简单有效的方式。 第二步：定位和具体化。去定位痛苦是在身体或者心灵的位置，然后让这个痛苦意想化。比如说，在来访璇璇的咨询故事第二章，她讲到胸口有一盘磁带，不停的播放责备她的录音。我们可以更多的让这些录音的声音是男是女，有多大年纪，语速快还是慢等具体化的方式来理解这个‘负担’。也许璇璇会说：这个声音是四十多岁的男性的声音，好像和我爸爸的声音很像，他很生气，在我面前，比我高好多好多，好像随时要把我拎起来，给我两下。 第三步：见证和分离。我会仔细观察璇璇的呼吸速度和深度、以及她的表情。轻声提醒让她持续同时也关注到自己的呼吸，保持跟“真我”的连接。同时，如果使用一个较强的引导，我可能描述到：请你的“真我”，那个拥有智慧、力量和同理心的真我，轻轻的伸手去，像一个技艺高超的外科医生，柔和而精准的把这盘磁带从你胸口取出来，放到手术托盘上，然后很娴熟的缝上这个开口。你去看看这个磁带，没有在胸口里随着心跳和呼吸了，这盘磁带的声音减弱下来，也许等到下一刻就停止了播放，我们一起在这里看着这盘磁带。 第四步：释放和转化，也是这个环节的核心步骤，由萨满的四大元素来洗礼的选项。 释放和转换主要依赖于自然届最重要的四大元素：水、火、大地、风。我们所调动的，并非某个神秘的理论概念，而是全人类共享的感官与生存记忆。 我在巴西感受的那场让我记忆深刻的萨满仪式：里面有火，有大地，室外的微风，当然我们每个人身边都有水杯。在我们的中国文化里，也有金木水火土。那么萨满文化，一个很难追寻是起源于哪里的文化，因为在世界各地都找到了类似的习俗，也是最古老的习俗了,可以理解为人类共同的潜意识的呈现。 IFS的去负担化的过程， 将萨满传统中关于释放与转化的古老直觉，翻译成了一套现代心灵可以理解、可以安全操作的内在仪式语言。痛苦需要被体验、见证，然后以一种可感知的方式“离开”身体。这正是全球萨满传统数千年来在做的事：通过仪式，将病痛或邪灵（象征性的负担）从个体中驱逐或转化。 疗愈的仪式：与人类的集体感官记忆对话 第四步萨满仪式在咨询中，通常是以闭眼后，通过头脑构建的想象而引发的感官重制，无论是净化、转化还是重生，都是一种深刻的心理象征语言，用以与我们的潜意识直接对话。 （基于我对萨满文化了解教浅，尽管我有部分体验和些许的了解，基于我希望能较准确的提炼萨满文化，以下写作部分主要由我提问、反问、矫正符合我的看法后，由Deepseek完成对萨满文化的讲解。） 萨满文化选用的元素——光/火、水、大地、火、风——并非偶然。它们之所以能成为疗愈的通用语言，是因为：它们是生存的前提。寻求其他星球是否有生命迹象时，我们也是在找这些元素；它们是普世的感官体验：无论来自雨林、沙漠还是冰原，一个孩子都能理解阳光照在皮肤上的温暖，流水拂过手心的清凉，泥土在指间的厚重，火焰带来的光亮与热度，以及清风拂面的舒爽。这些体验绕过了所有文化和语言的屏障，直达我们的神经系统；它们构成最基础的隐喻系统：我们的语言和思维本身就建立在它们之上。“心里沉重如石”（大地）、“情绪决堤”（水）、“光明的希望”（光）、“燃烧的激情”（火）、“如释重负，松一口气”（风）。这些不是文学修辞，而是我们用身体理解世界的本能方式。 火/光：觉察与消融 火光是最终的净化者。在仪式中，我们邀请来访者想象一束温暖、慈悲的光照耀在那份沉重的负担上。这光代表着“真我”的觉察与无条件的爱。负担在光中不再狰狞，它会像冰一样融化，或如晨雾般消散。这个意象，是在对流放者说：你一直被看见，而这份看见本身，便是疗愈的开始。 水：流动与净化 水是清洁者，也是情感的象征。我们引导来访者将负担（可能被想象成一块黑石或一团污秽）放入流动的活水——溪流、江河或瀑布中。看着水流带走它、冲刷它，直到它消失无踪。这个仪式，赋予了冻结的情感一个流动的出口，象征着那些卡住的痛苦终于得以释放、归入生命的洪流。 大地：接纳与转化 大地是万物之母，是无条件的承载者。在想象中，我们将负担郑重地埋葬于土壤深处。这并非丢弃，而是托付。我们信任大地母亲能将其分解、转化，成为滋养新生的养分。这个动作，给予了最深沉的安全感与归属感，意味着即使最不堪的痛苦，也能被全然接纳，并最终孕育出新的生命力量。 火：转化与决断 火是强大的能量转化者。面对那些特别顽固、黏着的负担（如根深蒂固的羞耻），我们可能借助火的意象。想象将其投入神圣的篝火，看着它在烈焰中化为光、热与一缕青烟。这象征着一种决绝的能量转化，将沉重的物质形态彻底转变为轻盈的能量形态，为新生腾出纯净的空间。 风：释放与清晰 风是信使，是呼吸。我们也可以将负担带到想象的山巅，双手捧起，请风之灵将其吹散，融入无尽的虚空。这带来一种彻底的释放感与思想的清明，仿佛心中淤塞的迷雾被一扫而空，重新呼吸到自由的空气。 咨询师：疗愈仪式的守航人 璇璇的这盘磁带，在她闭眼持续意念化的过程中。我会提供给她萨满文化中的四个元素，她会根据符合自己内心的方式去处理这盘磁带。璇璇也许会说：“我走到坟墓前，像是清明节扫墓一样，我会把它扔进大火中。”我会提示到：“去观察这些火苗，观察到胶条一点点被烧掉化作空气的过程。”这个阶段也许会持续三分钟，也许二十分钟。这个过程也许会出现阻碍，例如一阵风吹过来，火灭了。也许非常顺利，意念中有很多人陪着她。 在咨询中，这些都无法预测每一个人的仪式将会如何进行。 在IFS的“去负担化”仪式中，咨询师的角色更像一位专业的守航人和深情的见证者，而非主导的指挥者。我时常觉得，IFS是一种将人本主义的“以来访者为中心”哲学发挥到极致的疗法——它无比信任来访者内在的智慧与疗愈本能。对于那些习惯于高度自我控制、逻辑先行的来访者，这种由他们的“真我”完全主导的仪式，尤其具有解放性的力量。 我的工作，就是在一旁主动地守护，需要协助时引导完成这场内心的仪式。我倾听他们描述意象如何转换，感受如何流动。正是在这样的见证中，我目睹过许多难以言喻的时刻：有的来访者会突然被压抑多年的情绪席卷（从黑暗到光明：来访蕊芬的意象转变）；有的则长期被一种医院检查不出的、实感般的“胸口重压”所苦，却在一次意象中，看着那重物被光消融或被水流带走。 每一次这样的时刻，都让我深受感动，也让我为自己职业的深远意义感到骄傲——我们有幸守护并见证一个人内在的疗愈力量自行运作。 当“流放者”的负担被卸下，就如同一个深层的伤口终于被清理干净。但这并不意味着疗愈的结束，而是一个新阶段的开始：新生组织的生长与整合。系统的其他部分需要时间来适应、信任并重新建立关系。 这，就是我们下一章要探讨的内容。

This article was originally written in Chinese by the author Qin Xiaojie (Counselor, Psychotherapist) and later translated into English by DeepSeek, adhering to the original intent of the writing and the ethical principles of writing about client experiences. 文章由作者秦小杰（心理咨询师，心理治疗师）用中文写作（向下滑动到后半部分可见），后经Deepseek翻译成英文，秉持：写作初心和来访咨询故事写作伦理原则。 Author: Xiaojie Qin Time: Feb 2026 In the previous chapter, I described how I used "role-play" with my client Xuan to efficiently and directly experience a new internal dialogue. However, I often wonder: if Xuan's therapy could have continued without financial constraints, where might we have gone? We might have embarked on the more gradual, more ritual-rich path within IFS—the deep trauma healing of the "Exile," known as "unburdening." My interest in Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy began with a feeling of resonant surprise (as introduced in IFS Chapter 1). It was the realization that this model had somehow pieced together the scattered fragments of my own worldview into a workable art of healing. Wisdom and Depth of Feeling: The Two Grammars I Use for the World I did well in physics and math growing up, and for a long time, I believed the world could be understood through equations and analysis. But as years passed, I began to feel that something was always whispering just beyond the edge of logic—something that could not be fully captured by reason, yet was undeniably real. It's interesting: in social settings, when people ask about my profession, I sometimes let them guess. Few guess I'm a psychotherapist; most say something in the arts. I smile inwardly. In elementary school, I imagined becoming a fashion designer. Now, in my spare time, I am a dancer, a yoga practitioner, a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu enthusiast. These roles don't ask much of my prefrontal cortex; they ask me simply to do. In 2025, I began studying jazz singing seriously. I had little interest in theory and was fortunate to study one-on-one with Dawei, a respected jazz pianist in Beijing, learning in an improvisational and fluid way. During a lesson, he observed, "You're an experiential learner. You don't learn by reading the score, but you can sing it by ear." Music bypasses language, speaking directly to the senses. The subtle tuning of pitch, the breath-like rhythm, the wordless dialogue among musicians in the midst of improvisation—these cannot be taught from a manual. And those whispers at the boundary of logic? They share this same texture. They don't require explanation; they ask only to be felt. This sense of "An inexplicable knowing" brings to mind my father. He struggles to articulate a theory, yet his hands possess their own kind of navigation. When our family gives each other massages, his fingers find invisible meridians and pressure points with a weighted certainty. Even when learning to drive, his initial awkwardness carried a quiet self-assurance. My mother is the opposite: a woman of clear logic and sharp analysis. She can explain the principles perfectly, yet her hands on a back seem to hover, separated by a layer of uncertainty. Even the simplest dish, like scrambled eggs with tomatoes, has, under her precise method, sometimes burned. I seem to have inherited something from each. I possess my mother's analytical strength, yet in certain domains, my understanding feels closer to my father's tacit, embodied wisdom. I trust the detailed maps drawn by logic and science, yet I hold a deep respect for the uncharted territories that can only be perceived directly—by hand and by heart. Xiaojie and her parents at the age of 1 So, I find myself at a crossroads. On one side lies the reason and science I have long relied on to make sense of the world. On the other is an ineffable, experiential wisdom I have come to revere, which exists beyond logic. It is precisely at this intersection that the "unburdening" ritual of IFS finds its elegant place. Burden: The "External Energy" Carried by Exiles In the language of IFS, a "burden" is something Exile was never meant to carry. Unlike mainstream therapies, Dr. Richard Schwartz's IFS theory does not simplistically define the 'core issue' as a dysregulated emotion or cognition. I admire how he chose a term that is both overused and unavoidable: 'energy'. He describes a 'burden' as 'external energy'. For the scientific community and those of us accustomed to precise thinking to understand the world, this description gives me an itch I want to scratch. In fact, the entire methodology of this school embodies a steady approach to adjusting cognitions that lie beyond rational frameworks, using means that themselves transcend language. We can understand 'energy' as a metaphor, not necessarily as a physical concept, especially since leading physicists themselves debate its definition. In daily life, we often use similar descriptions: "Zhang walks with such presence, a real aura." or "Whenever I think of that event, I feel a knot inside." Though we cannot see it, we can feel a 'something' that affects us—it can have texture, direction, and intensity. This 'external' energy is an externalization made by Dr. Richard Schwartz. He posits that this energy is not innate to us, as IFS holds a core concept: the inherently resourceful "Self". To maintain the logical coherence of the school's conceptual framework, this damaging energy is thus seen as having forcibly intruded into the internal system during a moment of trauma, or as something that persistently distorts one's feelings, thoughts, and behavioral patterns. This type of trauma, characterized by "external energy", finds parallels in explanations from many therapeutic modalities, including Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), which I also incorporate in my practice. It is seen as a frozen, uncompleted experience. At the moment of trauma, the intense emotions and perceptions that should have flowed, completed, and been processed were instead frozen and stuck because they were unbearable to the internal system at the time. Dr. Richard Schwartz also describes it as having a "radioactive" quality—it is unstable, constantly seeking release, and influencing the system in distorted ways. Within the IFS framework, to maintain the system's integrity, when it senses that the frozen "burden" carried by an Exile is about to erupt, protective parts spring into action out of concern, leading to the emergence of "Managers" and "Firefighters" who take turns on duty. If we attempt to understand the 'parts' in IFS through the lens of other therapeutic modalities, we might find them conceptually close to the 'unconscious' explored in Psychoanalysis or the 'core beliefs' defined in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. However, IFS represents a paradigm shift by moving away from linguistic analysis and cognitive restructuring toward a stance of compassionate, experiential engagement. For example, when facing the belief 'I am unworthy of love,' psychoanalysis might trace its origins to childhood, CBT might challenge its evidence, while IFS would bypass these approaches. Instead, it would guide the client to sense: 'When this belief arises, where in your body do you feel it? If that sensation had an image, what would it look like?' Therefore, the starting point of IFS is closer to somatic therapies: it begins not by defining the 'problem,' but by directly experiencing and describing the inner existence known as the 'burden' itself. The first step in therapy is to facilitate a new kind of sensory dialogue—based on curiosity and compassion, not intellectual debate—between the client's consciousness (the Self) and this inner part. Coming Home Through Experience: A Personal Journey I was born in the 1980s in a city in Sichuan, a person who couldn't tell one crop from another. Growing up amid China's wave of urbanization, my generation developed a genuine sense of estrangement from the natural world we ultimately depend on. In my memories, before I even grew as tall as my father's thigh, I could still walk with my parents to places with farmland. I remember walking on square field ridges, seeing the paddy water mirror the sky, feeling the uneven earth underfoot, seeing the green crops, and smelling their faint scent. Yet, after I started carrying a schoolbag, all of this was quietly replaced by concrete and steel without my even noticing. City life made it seem like we no longer needed to understand or follow nature's rhythms. I also knew very little about any religion or ancient rituals. One year old me in Sichuan Oddly enough, since childhood, my greatest love has been watching animal documentaries. I was fascinated by the senary of all things coexisting and competing in a world without buildings or language. At wildlife parks, I could become utterly absorbed watching young chimpanzees play-fight, often trying the patience of my companions who eventually had to urge me to move on. When I grew up and could travel, the experiences I most longed for were far from the metropolis. Whether in Southeast Asia or on the other side of the planet. In 2024, for the first time, I ventured deep into Brazil's Atlantic rainforest, staying at a biodiversity research center in the heart of the forest. It was home to famously venomous spiders and snakes; photos and warnings were included in the volunteer welcome pack. I stayed for three full weeks. My morning yoga in the Atlantic forest joined by a cat On the night I arrived, I joined the volunteers who had been living there for some time on a walk around the buildings. We were surrounded by true primordial forest, without a trace of artificial light. We wore headlamps. I couldn't even remember what we were supposed to be looking for, only the feeling of tension—as if I might step on something at any moment. A companion said calmly, "Don't worry. The nearest clinic is just a twenty-minute drive away. They keep antivenom." Partway through, someone suggested we all turn off our headlamps. In that moment, I experienced for the first time in my life what it truly means to be unable to see one's own hand in front of one's face outdoors. The feel of the ground beneath my feet became utterly unfamiliar; branches and bushes brushing past my body were unnerving. The scent of the forest soil grew heavier with our footsteps, yet carried an unprecedented sense of the alien. I widened my eyes, fumbling in the absolute darkness to grab the arm of a companion I'd just met, whose name I hadn't even memorized yet. They chuckled, saying all new volunteers reacted this way. For someone like me, long accustomed to city life and reliant on sight for a sense of security, this mere five minutes in complete darkness actually gave me a headache. A walk in the day light in the Atlantic forest Fascinated by nature, I was also deeply drawn to those ancient, indigenous cultures. While traveling in the United States, metropolises like New York and Los Angeles didn't leave deep emotional imprints on me. Instead, it was in an unknown small town, Tecumseh, in Michigan where a local friend took me to a lecture at the town library—"Ghost Busters." Yes, you heard it right. It’s their actual profession! I listened to the entire talk with pure curiosity, and waves of confusion. That way of life and understanding, so utterly different from my own world, filled me with a feeling of almost naive novelty. 2019 attending the ghost buster presentation However, among these experiences that carried a tinge of cultural "sightseeing," one truly reached the depths of my soul. It was during that same deep trip to Brazil in 2024. After a series of flights and a long bus journey, I was finally driven by a local driver to a place surrounded by farmland. Honestly, as the scenery outside the taxi window grew increasingly remote, as I watched my phone signal weaken and then vanish, and even the driver began to doubt if he was lost, I felt some tension. (Rest assured, the entire itinerary was arranged directly by well-known Brazilian friends; safety was always the top priority.) The host communicated with me using the few English words he knew, warmly welcoming me, this "friend of a friend," who had come all the way from China's capital. I used gestures and broken words to communicate with the other locals attending the ceremony. Then, several locals wearing feather headdresses arrived—yes, just as you might imagine, with painted faces, resembling Indigenous peoples. They carried their own instruments; they were the so-called "shamans" (Xamã in Brazilian Portuguese). The morning light on the bus ticket in Brazil The ceremony was held in the spacious backyard of this home, the edge of the lawn adjoining what seemed like an orchard. That night, about a dozen of us formed a circle, lying on the soft summer grass. I was the only foreigner. When the host turned off the lights inside the house, the surroundings instantly fell into a profound silence. There was only the flickering of torches in the breeze and a sky unpolluted by light, studded with brilliant stars. This was, by all measures, the corner of the earth farthest from my home in Beijing, yet in that moment, I felt incredibly close to "home". I lay on a mattress, slowly closing my eyes. Then, a deep, raw, and powerful song pierced the silence. A shaman began to chant. No lyrics, no microphone, no instrumental accompaniment, only the sparse sounds of the night as a backdrop. When that sound reached my eardrums, a shockwave struck the very core of my being. I'm home. The drawing on my face on the day of the ceremony This feeling, accompanied by two streams of hot tears, slipped from the corners of my eyes without warning. It was as if all the city walls, wireless signals, data streams, and virtual connections had vanished in an instant. In that moment, I was so completely, so solidly, together with my most ancient and precious home—nature itself. In the time that followed, the shamans' songs rose and fell, interwoven with the sounds of primitive instruments, the rhythm now fast, now slow, the pitch rising and falling. Corners of my heart that had never been touched before seemed to be gently, persistently awakened. It was a clearly perceptible energy flowing in my chest, naturally giving rise to both tears and a serene smile. This is my most profound encounter with ancient healing wisdom to date.It affirms a long-held belief within me: the essence of healing is a deep "homecoming". As a counselor/psychotherapist who is both an evidence-seeking practitioner and a believer in experiential truth, I find that the "unburdening" ritual of Internal Family Systems (IFS) perfectly bridges these two aspects—it recreates this ancient wisdom of "homecoming" through structured psychological steps. In the next chapter, I will guide you step-by-step through the application of this ancient wisdom in the counseling room: the ritual of unburdening. 作者：秦小杰 时间：2026年2月 上一章，我讲述了如何与来访璇璇用“角色扮演”来高效、直接体验新的内在对话。然而，我时常会想：如果璇璇的咨询能够不受资金限制地持续，我们本可以走向何处？我们或许会踏上IFS中那条更渐进、也更富仪式感的路径——对“流放者”进行深度的创伤疗愈，即 “去负担化”。 我对内在家庭系统疗法（IFS）的兴趣，是始于一种感受到这个流派和我有共振的惊喜（IFS第一章介绍）——它竟将我散落的世界观碎片，拼合成了可操作的疗愈艺术。 智慧与深情：我与世界的两种语法 从小到大，我在学校里物理和数学都很好，那时我相信世界可以通过方程式和分析被理解。但随着年岁渐长，我总觉得有些东西在逻辑的边界之外低语——无法被完全理智分析，却始终存在。一个有意思的现象是，在社交场合被问到职业时，我有时会让人猜。很少有人猜中我是心理咨询师，更多的答案是“艺术相关”。我暗自会心一笑——小学时，我曾畅想自己长大要当服装设计师；现在的我，业余时间我是舞者，是瑜伽习练者，是巴西柔术爱好者。这些身份都不需要我过多用前额叶工作，干就行。 2025年，当我开始认真学爵士演唱，我对理论兴趣不大，有幸跟随北京备受推崇的爵士钢琴艺术家大维，进行一对一的即兴、灵活的方式学习。在一次课上，他说：“你是那种通过体验来学习的人。你不看谱，但你能唱。”音乐绕过语言，直接与感官对话。那些音准的微调、节奏的呼吸、即兴中与乐手无声的默契，没有一本说明书可以教会你。 而那些一直在逻辑边界低语的东西，似乎都带着这样的艺术质感——它们不需要被解释，只需要被感受。 这种“无法解释但就是知道”的感觉，让我想起我的父亲。他是一个很难把一件事理论讲清的人，但他的一双手却仿佛自带导航。我们一家人互相给彼此推拿时，他的手指能精准地找到那些看不见的经络与穴位，手下是沉甸甸的“知道”。学习开车的时候，父亲上脚虽然带着陌生和笨拙，但也散发出一种自得感。而我的母亲，一位逻辑清晰、擅长分析的女性，却恰恰相反——她能把道理讲得明明白白，但同样的手放在背上，却总隔着一层“找不到”的迷茫。就连最简单的西红柿炒蛋，在她严谨的操作下，也曾糊锅。 我仿佛继承了他们两人的一部分：拥有母亲分析问题的“强项”，但在某些领域，我的身体似乎更靠近父亲那种默会的、体验性的智慧。我既相信逻辑与科学绘制的精妙“地图”，也敬畏那些地图尚未标注、却能被手和心直接感知的“疆域”。 我一岁时和父母的合照 于是，我站在了一个交界处：一边是我赖以理解世界的理性与科学，另一边是我日益敬畏的、超越逻辑的体验的一种不可言喻的智慧。IFS的“去负担化”仪式，恰恰优雅地坐落在这个交界点上。 负担：流放者一直承载的“外在能量” “负担”在IFS的语言体系里，是部分本不应该承载的。 与主流疗法不同，理查德·施瓦茨博士的IFS理论并未将‘核心问题’简单地定义为某种失调的情绪或认知。我很佩服他，居然采用了一个已经被滥用而又无法回避的词‘能量’。他将‘负担’描述为‘外来能量’。对于科学界来讲，和我们习惯于精准思维去理解世界的人，这个描述给我痒痒的感觉，总想挠一下。其实，整个流派的步骤都稳稳的体现了用超越语言的方式去调整超越理性框架的认知。 我们可以把‘能量’理解成一个隐喻，不用理解为一个物理概念，毕竟物理界的大咖也在争论这个定义。日常生活中，我们也会经常做类似的描述。“张三走路都是带风的，很有气场。”“我一想到那件事儿，心理就感觉憋着的。”虽然我们看不到，但是我们能感受到一个影响到我们的‘东西’，它可有质地、方向和强度。 ‘来外’的一种能量，是理查德·施瓦茨博士做的一个外化。也就是他认为这个能量不是我们与生俱来的，毕竟IFS有一个核心概念：具有多种优秀品质的“真我（Self）”。保持一个流派概念框架的合理性，这种有损害性的能量自然会被认为是在创伤时刻强行侵入到内部的能量，或持续的扭曲你的感受、思维和行为轨迹。 那么这种有着“外在能量”的创伤，在很多流派里都有类似的解释，其中包括我咨询中也会借用的眼动脱敏与再加工疗法(EMDR)。它是一种被凝固的，未完成的体验。创伤的那一刻，巨大的情绪和感知本应该流动、完成和代谢，却因为无法被承受而被冻结、卡住了。理查德·施瓦茨博士也将它描述为“有放射性的”属性——它不稳定，一直在寻求释放，并以扭曲的方式影响着系统。 在IFS的框架中，内部系统为了保持整合，当感受到“流放者”的卡住的包要爆破时，处于担忧就会跳出来过度干预，于是有了“管理者”和“消防员”这两个轮流值班。 “如果我们试图用其他流派的框架来理解IFS中的‘部分’，会发现它在内容上或许接近精神分析所探讨的 ‘潜意识’，或像认知行为疗法所定义的 ‘核心信念’。然而，IFS的根本分水岭在于：它不将治疗视为对这些内容的语言化解读或逻辑修正。 例如，面对‘我不值得被爱’的信念，精神分析可能追溯其童年起源，认知疗法可能挑战其证据，而IFS则会绕过这些，直接引导来访者去 感知：‘当这个信念出现时，你身体哪个部位有感觉？如果那股感觉有形象，它看起来像什么？’ 因此，IFS的起点更接近于躯体疗法：先不定义‘问题’，而是去直接体验和描述那个被称为‘负担’的内在存在本身。 治疗的第一步，是让来访者的意识（真我）与这个内在部分建立一种全新的、基于好奇和慈悲的感官对话，而非思维辩论。 从咨询步骤来讲，接下来，我们便来到了IFS中最富仪式感的环节——“去负担化”。在这一过程中，疗愈的核心意象，正是深深根植于萨满文化中的自然元素：光、土、风与水。这些元素之所以拥有跨越文化的疗愈力量，并非源于神秘理论，而是因为它们是人类集体体验的基石——是我们用身体最早认识世界的方式。 在分享IFS如何运用它们之前，我想先谈谈，这些元素在我个人生命历程中，是如何从遥远的背景，逐渐变成一种真切可感的“关系”的。 在体验中回家：一段个人旅程 我成长在八十年代的四川绵阳，是一个连庄稼都分不清的人。我们这代人随着城市化浪潮长大，和赖以生存的自然之间，确有一种真切的割裂感。 记忆中，我还没长到父亲大腿高的时候，跟着父母散步还能走到有农田的地方。我曾在四方的田埂上走，看稻田里的水映着天空，脚下是颠簸的泥土，能看见绿色的作物，闻到它们淡淡的气味。然而，背上书包上学后，这一切便在不知不觉中被钢筋混凝土悄然取代了。城市生活让我们似乎不再觉得有必要了解和遵循自然，我对任何宗教或古老仪式，也知之甚少。 一岁在四川的时候 奇妙的是，我从小最爱看动物纪录片，着迷于那个没有建筑、没有语言的世界里万物共存与竞争的景象。去野生动物园，我能看小猩猩打架玩耍看得入神，让同行的友人等得不耐烦，最后不得不催我离开。 长大后能够四处旅行，我最渴望的体验，都远离都市。无论是在东南亚，还是在地球的另一端。2024年，我第一次深入巴西的大西洋原始丛林，住进森林中的一个生物多样性研究中心。那里有著名的剧毒蜘蛛和蛇，志愿者的欢迎包里就附有照片和警告。我住了整整三周。 在大西洋的丛林里，例行晨起瑜伽 抵达的当晚，我便跟着已在林中生活许久的志愿者们在建筑周围徒步。四周是真正的原始森林，没有一丝人造光。我们戴着头灯，我甚至想不起当时要去寻找什么，只记得那种紧张感——仿佛随时会踩到什么。同伴淡然地说：“别怕，最近的诊所就在二十分钟车程外，备有解毒剂。” 行至途中，有人提议全体关掉头灯。那一刻，我生平第一次在户外体会到什么叫“伸手不见五指”。脚下的触感变得无比陌生，擦过身体的树枝和灌木丛令人心惊。森林的泥土气息因我们的脚步而愈加浓重，却透着一种前所未有的异质感。 我瞪大双眼，在绝对的黑暗里慌忙伸手去抓身旁刚刚认识、名字都还没记清的同伴。他们呵呵笑起来，说新来的志愿者都这样。对我这样一个久居城市、依赖视觉获取安全感的人来说，这短短五分钟的全黑体验，竟让我开始头痛。 在大西洋丛林里徒步 对自然着迷的同时，我也深深被那些古老的原生文化吸引。在美旅行时，纽约、洛杉矶这样的大都市并未在我心中留下深刻的情绪印记，反而是在密歇根一个不知名的莱纳维县，我在当地的老友，带着我去参与了当地图书馆的一场讲座——“幽灵克星”。是的，职业驱鬼人，是主讲人的身份。我怀着纯粹的好奇听完了全程。那种与我的世界截然不同的生活与认知方式，让我感到一种近乎天真的新鲜感。 2019年在美国的小镇听了一场抓鬼职业人的分享 然而，在这些多少带着“猎奇”色彩的体验中，有一次却真正抵达了我的心灵深处。 同样是那2024年巴西的深度旅行。我辗转飞行、乘坐长途大巴，最终被一位当地司机载往一个都是农田的地方。说实话，当车窗外景色越来越荒僻，我眼见手机信号从微弱到消失，连司机都开始怀疑是否走错了路时，我有些紧张了。（请放心，整个行程由知根知底的巴西朋友直接安排，安全始终是首要考虑。） 主人用仅会的几个英文单词和我交流，热情地欢迎我这个“朋友的朋友”，从中国首都远道而来。我手脚并用的跟其他来参加仪式的当地人交流。随后，几位头戴羽毛的当地人陆续到来——是的，就像你想象中的那样，他们脸上画有图像，形似印第安人。他们手持各自的乐器，就是所谓的“萨满”（Xamã -巴西的葡萄牙语）。 我在巴西的大巴站中转 仪式就在这户人家宽阔的后院举行，草坪边缘紧挨着一片类似果园的土地。那晚，我们十几个人围成圈，躺在夏季柔软的草坪上。我是其中唯一的外国人。 当主人关掉屋内的灯光，周围瞬间陷入一种深邃的宁静。只有随风跳动的火把，和一片未被光污染浸染的、缀满璀璨星辰的夜空。这里明明是距离我北京的家最远的地球一角，那一刻，我却觉得自己离“家”无比的近。 我躺在床垫上，缓缓闭上眼睛。然后，一声浑厚、充满原始力量的歌声穿透了寂静。一位萨满开始吟唱。没有歌词，没有麦克风，没有任何乐器伴奏，只有黑夜里稀疏的自然声响作为背景。 当那声音抵达我的耳膜，一股震撼直击心灵深处。 “回家了。” 这个感受伴随着两行滚烫的泪水，毫无征兆地从眼角滑落。仿佛所有城市的高墙、无线信号、数据流和虚拟连接都在瞬间消失，我第一次如此全身心地、踏实地，与自己最古老、最珍贵的家园——自然本身——待在一起。 仪式当天的我 接下来的时光里，萨满们的歌声此起彼伏，原始的乐器声穿插其间，节奏时快时慢，音调时起时落。我内心一些从未被触碰过的角落，仿佛被持续地、温柔地唤醒。那是一种清晰可感的能量在胸中流动，自然而然地推起泪水和宁静的微笑。 这是我与古老疗愈智慧最彻底的一次相遇。 它印证了我内心长久以来的一个信念：疗愈的本质，是一种深层的“回家”。而作为一名既是实证追求者，又是体验信奉者的咨询师，我发现内在家庭系统（IFS）的“去负担化”仪式，恰好完美地回应了这两者——它用结构化的心理步骤，重现了这种古老的“回家”智慧。 下一章，我会按步骤介绍古老智慧在咨询室里的应用：那去负担化的仪式。

This article was originally written in Chinese by the author Qin Xiaojie (Counselor, Psychotherapist) and later translated into English by DeepSeek, adhering to the original intent of the writing and the ethical principles of writing about client experiences. 文章由作者秦小杰（心理咨询师，心理治疗师）用中文写作（向下滑动到后半部分可见），后经Deepseek翻译成英文，秉持：写作初心和来访咨询故事写作伦理原则。 Author: Xiaojie Qin Time: Feb 2026 Deviating from the Theoretical Course: A Creative Choice Rooted in the Present In the previous chapter, we explored a distinctive concept within Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy: the “waiting room”. Following the classic IFS protocol, after inviting a “Protector” part to step aside, the next step typically involves a deeper “unburdening” or “healing ritual” for the “Exile” part, what Dr. Richard Schwartz describes as practices borrowed from shamanic tradition, designed to witness and transform those long-suppressed core emotions carried by the exile. I will return to explore that process in a later chapter. In this chapter, I want to share a core belief that guides all my therapeutic work: every truly effective session unfolds in the creative encounter between theory and the immediate present. On the real journey of therapy, I navigate by constantly assessing the current conditions: the passenger’s state (the client’s emotional landscape), the weather (the quality of our therapeutic alliance), and the time we have available and etc. I then choose the route that seems most passable in that very moment. As a therapist, my primary allegiance is not- and I aspire it never to be- to any single modality, but to the person sitting across from me and to the shared “here and now” we are inhabiting together. The actual walking that happens in the therapy room can never be done by strictly following a map. It requires me to temporarily set the manual aside and listen with my entire being—not only to the client’s words, but to the tremor in their voice, the rhythm of their breath, and to the smallest, most palpable opening for change within the present moment. It is a moment-by-moment discernment of which theoretical framework or specific tool might best serve the person in front of me. In the final times of our work, Xuan's finances limited us to meeting just once a month. This sparse rhythm posed a particular challenge for the kind of bottom-up approach as IFS, which often requires more frequent sessions to cultivate a gentle change in the felt sense and continuity needed for deep inner rituals. The good news was that we already had a solid map of her inner world (her Manager, Firefighter, and Exile, as seen in Chapter 6. I now needed a tool, still a bottom-up one, that could create a powerful, self-contained shift in a single meeting—something she could take with her and practice outside sessions without my presence. I turned to a skill from my own past: five years of improvisational theater practice. I decided to use "role-play", which is a tool across many modalities in psychotherapy. It could be seen as a pragmatic detour—a bumpier, more direct road that traded the comfort of a slow, scenic route for the chance to reach our destination sooner. This hands-on, sometimes gritty approach led us straight to the heart of the matter: the raw, first-time experience of changing an inner dialogue. Role Play: Fake It Until You Make It Change is a gradual, iterative process. In our sessions, when Xuan once again became mired in self-criticism over her "inability to act," I made an intuitive, in-the-moment technique judgment. To gently accelerate our pace, I decided to forgo another deep dive into her internal landscape. Instead, I chose to stage her inner conflict in the space between us, allowing her to see with her own eyes and experience in her own body how that internal dialogue became stuck (the external bipolarized behaviors were driven by her internal clashing voices presented in Chapter 5)—and how a new thread of conversation might begin. What follows is a condensed excerpt from one such session, which began when she sank into depressive self-blame after "making an excuse" to skip a showing up for a work shift. Me: "Let's try a role-play. I'll be the part of you that just… can't. The one that wants to stay put. Your job is to be the 'motivator'—see if you can get this lump on the couch to move." We swapped places. I sank into the sofa that my clients usually sit, letting my body go slack in a performance of pure passiveness. She perched on the edge of my therapist's chair. Take 1: I gazed at the ceiling with the back of my head on the sofa. Xuan: "Get up. Go mop the floor." Her voice was all edges—a command hurled across the room. I turned my face to the wall, a fortress of silent refusal. She froze, at a complete loss. Cut. Take 2: I leaned back on the sofa, looking numb. Xuan: "Look at you. Lying there like a useless sack. Is this what you are now? Get up and act like a person!" The words were barbed, meant to hook and drag me upright through sheer shame. Me: (A low mutter from the couch) "No. I'm not going." I didn't even look at her. The resentment was a physical barrier. The frustration that crumpled her face was almost palpable. Cut. A Pause for Direction “Let’s take a break from the role-play.” I softened, letting my therapist's presence back into my voice. "Let's rewind. What was the mission here?" "To get you to do something," she sighed, the fight draining out of her. "And how did your approach land? What did that tone invite?" "…A wall," she admitted quietly. "It just built a wall." "Exactly. So the command…" I responded, "…doesn't work," and she finished, the realization landing not just in her mind, but in her weary posture. Take N: Despite many failed attempts, I was relieved that our previous work kept her in the emotional tolerance. Looking back at the beginning of our journey, similar scenario would only end in complete emotional fatigue and the stuck feeling of “Xuan(2): I can’t”. We tried again, the shift began not with a shove, but with a glance. Xuan: "You seem… tired today?" She asked with a flat tone. Me: (A slow, heavy blink) "…Yeah. I am." Xuan: "It's been… a lot lately." The words were wrenched out, syllable by syllable, as if she were speaking a language she'd only ever read. This was monumental. The old, scorching tape in her mind—the one that only played "you should" and "this is your fault"—had finally jammed for a second. Me: I let out a breath I seemed to have been holding for years. "It has. There's been no space. No rest. I'm just… empty." With immense effort, I pushed myself up to sit. She watched the movement, her own jaw tight, wrestling down the familiar demon that wanted to shout and blame. She looked at the floor, gathering the scattered pieces of a new script. Xuan: "The deadline is… there. But. We could… start slowly. Maybe… together?" The old impatience was still there, a sharp thread woven through the offer, but the offer itself was utterly new. It was the first time. The very first time her Self had gently taken the microphone from the furious inner critic. Me: I met her eyes, my own wide with a fragile hope. "You'd… stay? And do it with me?" I got up. Cut. Xuan’s mood lightened up, and she smiled. “Okay, I think I know what you are doing now.” Equip my therapy studio with various tools from modalities: take what you need. Every therapist enters the therapy room with their own theoretical preferences and life experiences. This shapes our perspective, but it also defines our limitations. For me, different therapeutic modalities are not a “single script” to be rigidly followed—after all, there are theoretical debates even among them. I intend to have a continuously evolving and well-equipped consulting ‘mind studio’, filled with tools from various modalities that I’ve taken apart. I aspire to reassemble them, but more often, I simply use the part that is needed in the present moment. Therefore, each therapy session can never be, nor should it be, an assembly-line product of rigidly applied theory. It is more like an improvised theater of life—there is a set theme (the client’s core issue), but no fixed script. The client and I are partners, and within a safe framework, we experiment with new dialogues and new moves until, in a certain moment, we both feel: “Yes, this is our most genuine and most needed expression right now.” Although I have spent half a year writing extensively about my understanding of IFS and illustrating some of my applications of it, what ultimately fascinates me is not the theory itself, but how a theory can come to life—appropriately and vividly—in a real encounter with a specific human being. Xuan's Therapy Stories: A Gentle Pause with Me Yet Xuan’s healing and growth continue to take root and reach outward in the soil of her everyday life. I witnessed her "Self" becoming clearer and broader, like the rings of a tree—that inner clarity, courage, and compassion are steadily becoming the foundation from which she meets the world. At the start of 2026, I've offered myself two reminders to hold two kinds of tenderness: One is acceptance of my longing for perfection, which keeps my gaze fixed on the stars and sustains an upward-reaching strength. The other is the embrace of imperfection—holding space for each misstep and welcoming every achievement that may not feel complete. The first is the light; the second is the soil. And true growth happens precisely in the space between them—steadily, day by day, becoming the shape of one's own self. This is, at its heart, the essence of our work. I offer this reflection to everyone who has journeyed through the story of Xuan and me in the therapy room. My best wishes to you, Xuanyuan. The chapter of our therapy work has reached its warm conclusion, and as your own unique life story continues to unfold, it will always have my heartfelt applause. In the next chapter, we return to the introduction of IFS, specifically to the understanding of the "unburdening" shamanic technique for Exiles. 作者：秦小杰 时间：2026年2月 偏离理论的航线：忠于当下的创造性选择 上一章，我们探讨了内在家庭系统治疗（IFS）中一个颇具特色的设置：“等候室”。按照经典的IFS流程，在邀请保护者暂歇之后，下一步往往会进入更深层的针对“流放者”的“修复仪式”或称“无负担化”。这些疗愈仪式，创始人理查德·施瓦茨博士(Dr Richard Schwartz)提到他借鉴了萨满传统实践，引导“流放者”那些被压抑的核心情绪得以见证与转化，这个部分我会放在下一章讲述。 这一章，我想分享一个贯穿我所有咨询工作的核心理念：每一次有效的咨询，都发生在理论（流派）与当下的创造性相遇之中。在真实的旅途中，我会根据乘客（来访者）当下的状态、天气（咨询关系）和可用的时间，选择一条此刻最可能通行的路。作为咨询师，我的第一忠诚–我时常提醒自己–­不属于任何一个具体的流派，而属于坐在我面前的这个人，以及我们正在共享的这一个“当下”。真正在咨询室里发生的行走，却无法完全按图索骥。它要求我暂时放下地图，用全部的感官去倾听——不仅听来访者的话语，更听ta语调的颤抖、呼吸的节奏，以及那个“当下”里最可能被听见的、最微小的改变契机，以及时时刻刻决定哪个理论流派、工作手法更适合来访。 在璇璇跟我咨询的后期，因为财务局限的原因，我们的咨询频率被迫降低到一个月一次。在我看来，传统的、需要高度连续性的IFS内在仪式工作，在节奏上遇到了挑战。庆幸的是，我们对她的内在系统（管理者、消防员、流放者）已有了清晰的IFS地图式理解（如第六章:璇璇内在敌对的联盟所述）。我需要一种在单次会话中就能创造高浓度体验、并能被她直接带入生活的方法。 我以前的一个爱好，也变成了我从另一片沃土——五年的即兴戏剧训练。于是，我选择了“角色扮演”的工作方式，通过模拟场景的对话体验性植入新的内部沟通方式。却让我们更好地抵达了一个熟悉的站台：内在对话的改变的初体验。 角色扮演：排练另一种人生，直到它成为你的角色 改善是一个循序渐进的过程，在咨询中，当璇璇再次因“无法行动”陷入自我批判的泥潭时，为了能够稍微加快咨询速度，我做了一个基于当下直觉的判断：今天放弃深入潜意识的内景，而是将内在的冲突“外化”到我们两人之间的空间，让她亲眼看见、亲身经历那段对话是如何卡住的(璇璇几年的双相的外在表现，可以通过第五章：来访璇璇(5): 僵持的内在对话深入了解)，以及一线新的对话如何可能被开启。 以下，摘录的是浓缩到一起的。起因是一次会谈中，她因“找借口”没去上班而陷入抑郁自责。 我：“我们来做个角色扮演，我饰演你不想干活的那部分，你饰演动员者，目的是让我起来干点事儿。” 我们交换位置——我坐到来访椅上半躺着，她坐到我（咨询师）位置。 第一镜： 我半倒在沙发上，看着屋顶。 璇璇：“起来啊，去拖地。”她用命令口气说。 我立即皱眉，眼睛看向别处，不理她。 她不知所措。 卡 第二镜： 我身体重重的在沙发上待着。 璇璇：“成天都这么躺着，什么都不干，没个人样，起来去干活。”她生气地说。试图用责备去刺激我，让我屈服于她。 我：“我不去，我不想去。”我恨了她一眼。 她非常沮丧。 卡 场外指导 我回归到咨询师的本色中，来指导她。 我：“你还记得你的目的是什么吗？” 璇璇：“让你起来干点事儿。” 我：“你刚刚的语气，你觉得我听了会有什么反应？” 璇璇：“抗拒吧，不想听。” 我：“也就是这种命令是无效的”。 第N镜： 许多次失败尝试，但我们之前每一次看似缓慢的内心创伤的修复，让她的情绪耐受力得到很大提高（要知道，我跟她工作的前期，同样的场景，她经历着“来访璇璇故事第二章：我做不到”的折磨。），再N次尝试后，璇璇的态度终于有了一丝改变： 璇璇：“你今天有点累吧？”她问。 我：“是的。”我把我耷拉的眼皮抬起来。 璇璇：“最近你也辛苦了。”她极其勉强挤出这句话。 这句话是一个很重要的她内在疗愈的进展。要知道，她曾经胸口的那盘磁带里只有苛责和这都是应该的言语。 我：“对啊，最近特别忙，很久没有休息了，我没有一点力气了。”我从半躺着坐起来。 璇璇努力在咽下自己想开骂的劲，她看着地，调整了一会儿。 璇璇：“都要快到截止日了，那你慢慢来做，我们可以一起。”声音中带着藏不住的不耐烦。 但这是她第一次，能够自己用“真我”去领导。 我：“你陪着我啊，那好啊”。一丝质疑但也掩不住喜悦的看着她。 卡！ 旋旋嘴角罕见地扬起一丝顽皮的笑容：“好像，我知道你在干什么了。” 流派是用来装备我的咨询工作室：使用则按需而取 每一位咨询师，都带着自身的理论偏好与生命经验进入咨询室。这构成了我们的视角，也是我们的局限。对我而言，不同的咨询流派并非需要严格遵守的“单一剧本”，况且各个流派之间也有理论争斗。对我而言，我头脑有着一个不断完善和更新的咨询工作室，其中装满了被我拆散的咨询流派的各种工具，我可以将它们还原，但更多时候只是用当下需要的零件。 因此，每一次咨询都不可能，也不应该是某个理论僵化应用的流水线产品。它更像一场即兴的人生剧场——有既定的主题（来访者的核心议题），却没有固定的台词。我和来访者互为搭档，在安全的框架内，共同尝试新的对白、新的走位，直到某个瞬间，我们都感觉到：对了，这就是我们此刻最真实、也最需要的表达。 尽管我已经花了半年的时间，大量写作我对IFS的理解和我就部分应用的展现。最终，令我着迷的并非理论本身，而是理论如何能在与一个具体生命的真实相遇中，焕发出恰如其分的生机。 璇璇的心理咨询故事，在此告一段落。 但她的疗愈与成长，仍在生命的土壤里持续扎根、伸展。我见证着她的“真我”如树之年轮，日渐清晰、宽广——那份内在的清明、勇气与慈悲，正一点点成为她面对世界的底色。 2026初始，我给了自己两句话，提醒自己怀抱着两种温柔：一种是内心仍有对完美的期望的默许，它让我们始终望向星辰，保有向上的力量；另一种是对不完美的承接——承接自己每一次的失误，也拥抱每一个不够圆满的成就。 前者是光，后者是土壤。而真正的成长，正是在这两者之间，稳稳地、一天天地，长成了自己的模样。这正好是我们工作的内容，送给每一个读完璇璇和我在咨询室里的故事的你。 祝福你，璇璇。属于我们的咨询章节已经温暖完结，而你独一无二的生命故事，将永远拥有我发自内心的喝彩。 下一章，让我们一起回到IFS框架中，深入了解如何为“流放者”完成“去负担”这一极具仪式话的过程。

This article was originally written in Chinese by the author Qin Xiaojie (Counselor, Psychotherapist) and later translated into English by DeepSeek, adhering to the original intent of the writing and the ethical principles of writing about client experiences. 文章由作者秦小杰（心理咨询师，心理治疗师）用中文写作，后经 Deepseek 翻译成英文，秉持: 写作初心和来访咨询故事写作伦理原则。 Author: Qin Xiaojie Date: January 2026 By applying the theoretical framework of Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy to explore Xuanxuan's experience of bipolarity, we can see that for a long time, she was alternately controlled by her inner Manager and Firefighter (as detailed in Chapter 4). This manifested as episodes of "a forced march of achievement" and "depressive withdrawal that rendered the outside world irrelevant." Guided by the IFS framework, we have already taken a significant and promising step forward: gaining a deeper understanding of the relationships and states of Xuanxuan's inner parts. 作者：秦小杰 时间：2026年1月 来访璇璇的双相生活状态，我们用内在家庭系统治疗（IFS）的理论框架去探索，可以看到，在很长时间里都被内在的管理员和消防员交替操控（请见来访璇璇咨询故事第四章），呈现出“精疲力竭也无法停止的躁动”和“世间万事我无暇顾及的抑郁”。在IFS咨询框架的指导下，我们已经迈出了可喜的一步了，就是对璇璇内在部分关系和状态的了解。 The Difficulty of Unblending: When the Manager Refuses to Step Aside According to the IFS process, the next step is to gently unblend the different parts within. From this perspective, inner chaos and conflict often arise not from one voice, but from many parts speaking—and clashing (See Chapter 5)—at once, creating a tangle that's hard to unravel. In one session, Xuan described what had pulled her under that week: a plan to finish a critical professional report over three nights had fallen apart. Between sheer exhaustion and her child suddenly falling ill, only a fragment was complete. (Note: To deeply protect client privacy, specific dialogues and details are narratively adapted, while the core therapeutic process remains true to clinical experience.) “I feel like a complete failure,” Xuan said, a familiar heaviness in her tone. “I can’t even manage something this basic.” “That led to a lot of disappointment toward yourself,” I reflected. She nodded. Our work had already transitioned into a ‘bottom-up’, felt-sense ­– a way to bypass her analytical mind and meet experience directly through the language of the body, which Xuan was gradually learning to decipher. “If you’re willing, would you close your eyes and try to meet this ‘failure’ feeling directly?” I offered. Xuan nodded and let her eyes close. “Good. Stay with your breath. Now see if you can find that ‘I failed’ feeling… Where is it sitting in your body? Does it have a texture, a color, a shape?” A quiet moment settled. Then, softly: “In my chest… It’s heavy. Like a lump of gray stone, pressing down.” I held the space, allowing her to stay with the sensation. But within seconds, her brow knitted slightly. “Something seems to have shifted inside,” I gently noted. “Would you be willing to share what’s happening?” Xuan replied, “…Of course I failed. It’s because when I have downtime, I just scroll on my phone. If I’d spent a few hours less on that last week, the report would’ve been done by now.” Xuan’s prefrontal cortex—the very analytical faculty we were trying to gently bypass—snapped back online. Her inner analyst took the stage, a clear function of her Manager part, swiftly intervening to steer us away from the raw, felt experience I was guiding her toward. Me: “What if we gently asked this ‘Manager’ part if it might be willing to take a short pause? We could invite it to rest for a while in the ‘waiting room.’” Xuan: (without hesitation) “…It won’t. It says it has to stay right here.” When I tried to approach Xuan’s inner Exile—the young girl holding the old pain—the Manager who declares “Of course you failed” would intervene. It did not want us speaking directly to the Exile, fearing her pain might swell into something uncontainable. In the logic of IFS, this Manager is, at its heart, a guardian. Its relentless criticism is not an attack, but a misguided form of loyalty—a lifelong vow to protect the child within from feeling that crushing weight of pain ever again. 分离之难：当“管理者”拒绝退场 用IFS的咨询流程来讲，下一步就是更好地将内在不同的部分进行“分离”（unblend the parts）。在IFS看来，内心的混乱与矛盾，常常是因为不同的部分在同时发声、互相干预，让局面变得难以厘清。 在一次咨询中，璇璇讲述了让她那一周陷入低落的事件：她原本计划用三个晚上完成一份重要的职业进修报告，但最终因为精疲力竭和孩子突然生病，只完成了一小部分。（注：为深度保护来访者隐私，本章节中的对话细节与事件背景已进行文学化改编，但其核心的对话过程与咨询逻辑均严格遵循真实的经验。） “我感到自己彻底失败了，”璇璇说，声音里带着熟悉的沉重感，“我连这么基本的事都掌控不了。” “你对自己有强烈的失望。” 我回应道。她点了点头。 我们的咨询方式已经更多的转移为‘自下而上’的感受性过程——一种有意为之的迂回，目的是让璇璇的思维暂时退居幕后。璇璇已经对这个过程有了好些的体验。 “如果可以的话，你愿意闭上眼睛，直接去接触这份‘失败感’本身吗？" 我直接引导到。 璇璇点了点头，闭上了眼睛。 “很好，保持呼吸。那个‘我失败了’的感觉你观察它……它在你身体的哪个位置？它有什么质地、颜色或形状吗？” 短暂的沉默后，她低声描述：“在胸口……很重，像一团压着的、灰色的石头。” 我保持安静，给她时间和这个感受相处。 但，不到几秒钟，她的眉头微微蹙起。 我跟上问到“似乎你内心有些变化，你可以分享下吗？”。璇璇回答到，“……我当然会失败，因为我没事的时候，就会刷手机。如果我上周少耍几个小时，现在报告早就写完了。” 璇璇的前额叶被激活了，她在思考。用IFS的话，她的‘管理员’以一个分析师的角色跳出来了，开始干扰我们和情绪的接触。 我：“我们能不能试着先请这个‘管理员’部分暂时休息一下？可以邀请它去一个‘等候室’里待一会儿。” 璇璇：（立马回答到）“……它……它不去。它觉得必须留在这里”。 当我去接触璇璇内在的“流放者”，那个背负着痛苦的小女孩时，那个说着“你当然会失败”的管理者跳出来，它不希望我们直接跟流放者对话，因为管理者害怕小女孩的痛苦被放大、变得不可收拾。在IFS理论中，管理者是一个有保护之心的守护小女孩的责任。 A Sophisticated Defense: The Manager's "Analysis" When I guided Xuan to directly contact the feeling of "failure" (that heavy, gray stone), it triggered a red alert in her Manager. Because "feeling vulnerable" is the gateway to the Exile's pain—the wounded child within—the Manager grew deeply anxious, fearing a loss of control. It could not allow that door to open. So, it launched a more subtle, more "intelligent" emergency protocol: 1. Redirecting the Focus: It forcibly shifted Xuan's attention away from "feeling the emotion of failure" (which felt uncontrollable and dangerous) and toward "analyzing the cause of the failure" (which appeared manageable and rational). 2. Offering a "Solution": By pinpointing "scrolling on her phone" as the "cause," it was essentially saying: "See? The problem is clear, and the solution is obvious (just don't scroll next time). So, you don't need to sit in that uncomfortable feeling anymore. Get up and keep fighting!" Therefore, this 'Analyst' was not there to help her feel, but to stop her from feeling. It had no intention of going to a "waiting room." In that moment, as a therapist whose early practice was rooted in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (for its limitations, see my other article), I too felt shut out and at a loss. I gently guided her back from the imagery exercise. After the session, I returned to my studies, seeking a way forward—a path to respectfully engage with a Manager so vigilant that it had stalled our very progress, and to gently negotiate a space where healing could begin to move again. 管理者用“分析”搅局：一种更高级的“防御” 当我引导璇璇去直接感受“失败感”（那团灰色的石头）时，这触碰了管理者的红色警报。因为“感受脆弱”是通往“流放者”（受伤小孩）痛苦的大门，管理者此时很焦虑害怕场面失控，所以绝不允许这道门被打开。 于是，它立刻启动了一项更隐蔽、更“聪明”的应急方案： 1. 目标转移：它把璇璇的注意力，从 “感受失败的情绪” （不可控的、危险的），强行拉到了 “分析失败的原因” （看似可控的、理性的）。 2. 提供“解决方案”：通过指出“刷手机”这个“原因”，它实际上在暗示：“看，问题很清楚，解决办法也很明确（下次别刷手机就行了）。所以，你不用再沉浸在那个难受的感觉里了，起来继续战斗吧！” 所以，这个‘分析者’不是来帮忙感受的，而是来终止感受的。 它当然不愿意去一个“等候室”。 这一刻，作为一个职业早期主要使用认知行为治疗（关于其局限性，请阅读我的另一篇文章） 的咨询师，我一下也被挡在了门外，不知所措，我引导她从意念练习中出来。 咨询结束后，我又继续学习、看有哪些方式方法可以化解这种内心冲突的对话。 Trust: The Key to the Waiting Room When working with the Exile, the appearance of a protector—the Manager or the Firefighter—as much as it feels like an interruption; it is the work itself. We cannot work around a protector; we must first turn toward it with understanding. Only then can it begin to relax. This starts by shifting our focus from the content to the part itself. We move attention away from “was scrolling right or wrong” to the part that is delivering the criticism. Next, we give it form. Through imagery, we help the part become “visible,” transforming it from an abstract voice into an inner figure we can dialogue with. Throughout this process, we employ deep empathy and gratitude, acknowledging its efforts and its existence, to build trust rather than confrontation. Ultimately, we aim to discover the protective intent—to move past the surface criticism and directly address the core fear and protective motive. This is the key to working with a Manager. Had I been more skillful in that moment, our conversation might have unfolded as follows. (The following dialogue is crafted to illustrate the application of IFS.) Me: “Let’s keep our eyes closed. I hear another voice saying the failure was because of ‘scrolling.’ We can see that description as a detailed report. Could we set the report down for a moment and instead turn toward the one writing it—the ‘Analyst’? Would you be willing to get to know it?” Xuan: (likely nods) Me: “In your mind’s eye, can you see this part, the Analyst? Where is it? What does it look like? Is it young or old? What is it wearing?” Xuan: “It looks like someone in a suit and glasses, always checking a watch. Very serious, in a hurry.” Me: “A serious ‘Analyst’ in a suit, pressed for time. Now, inwardly and with respect, could you tell it: ‘I see you. I see how hard you’re working.’ Then just notice—what happens when you say that? Any small shift?” Xuan: “…It is taken by surprise and paused for a second, but its face is still stern. It says, ‘I have to work hard. Otherwise, things will get worse.’” (Here, the Manager’s fear surfaces.) Me: (gently) “‘Otherwise, things will get worse.’ That matters. Could we ask it, with care: ‘What are you most afraid will happen? What is the ‘worse’ you’re trying to prevent?’” Xuan: (possibly emotional) “…Chaos. Losing control. Becoming nothing…” We would pause here, allowing space. Me: (reframing) “It sounds like this ‘Analyst’ is really a Guardian. Its strictness comes from a deep fear that chaos will harm you. Its rules aren’t about blame—they’re about safety. How is that part feels right now?” Xuan: (with relief or sadness) “Yes. It seems… exhausted.” Me: (inviting) “What if we told this tired Guardian: ‘We are safe here. I am with you. Could you, just for a few minutes, let us hold this watch? You could step into the next room and rest—there’s a couch for you. This isn’t goodbye. It’s a short break. We will update you on everything when you return.’ Do you think it might consider that?” This is not a command. It is a collaborative invitation. Through practice, I’ve learned this invitation rests on three pillars: Gratitude — Recognizing that every protector’s harshness comes from a fierce loyalty to a wounded inner child. Reassurance — We promise its return and our full attention. Respect — We offer a choice, not an order. Only then might a protective part feel safe enough to step back. Finally, the Manager agreed to enter the waiting room. I still remember the first time this happened with Xuan. In my notes, I underlined the moment. It was the moment she could unblend—creating just enough space for her Self to appear, like light through clouds, and begin, softly, to restore order. 信任：“管理员”去“等候室”的前提 在跟流放者者工作时，管理者（也可能是消防员，他们俩都是保护者）的出现并且进行干扰是一个常见现象。我们不能绕过保护者去工作，而要先去对其进行认识，保护者才可能放松下来。首先，让我们接触流放者先从内容转向部分本身：将焦点从“刷手机的对错”转移到执行批判的那个“部分”；然后，外化与具象化：通过意象让部分“可视化”，使其从抽象声音变为可对话的“内在人物”。这个过程，我们需要使用大量的共情与感恩：认可它的努力和存在，建立信任而非对抗的关系。最终，我们会通常探索到保护意图：绕过表面的批评，直指核心的恐惧与保护动机（这是与管理者工作的关键）。 如果我当时可以游刃有余的应对，那么接下来我们也许会有这样一个对话。（以下对话，为展现IFS的应用而编撰。） 我：“请保持眼睛的闭合。我听到另一个部分在跟我们对话，它说失败是因为刷手机’。它好像一本非常严谨的‘事件调查报告’。我有点好奇，我们能不能暂时先不处理这份‘报告’。我们现在转过身，给这个正在写报告的‘分析师’一些关注力，我们尝试去认识下它好吗？” 璇璇： （可能点头或轻声回应） 我：“ 好。现在，在想象中，你能不能‘看到’这个正在说话的部分？它也许就在你心里的某个位置。它长什么样子？是年轻的还是年长的？它穿着什么样的衣服？它的表情和姿态是怎样的？” 璇璇： “嗯，它像个穿西装、戴眼镜的人，一直在看表，很严肃，有点着急。” 我： “嗯，一个穿西装、看手表、严肃又着急的‘分析师’。现在，我想邀请你，用你内心的声音，非常尊重地对它说：‘我看到了你。我看到你正在非常努力地工作。’然后留意一下，当我们这样认可它时，它有什么反应？哪怕是非常细微的表情或动作。” 璇璇：“……它好像……愣了一秒，但还是板着脸。它说‘当然要努力，不然情况会更糟。’” （这是关键转折点。管理者的深层恐惧可能在此浮现） 我： （抓住核心，探索意图）“‘不然情况会更糟’——这句话太重要了。我们可以轻轻地、带着尊重地问问它吗：‘你在努力防止的，到底是什么？你最担心的‘更糟的情况’，具体是什么？’” 璇璇（回答1）： （可能沉默，或情绪波动）“……是混乱。是彻底失控。是一事无成…… 在这里，会停一些时间，直到来访的情绪有所缓解后，才进行下面的认知调整。 我： （连接与赋义）“我听起来，这位‘分析师’先生，其实是一位极力保护你的‘安全主管’。它之所以严厉，不是因为冷酷，而是因为它极度害怕‘混乱’和‘失控’会伤害到你。它所有关于‘刷手机’的分析和规则，根本目的都不是为了批评你，而是为了建立秩序，防止它最害怕的灾难发生。我们这样理解它，感觉对吗？” 璇璇： （可能感到释然或悲伤）“……对。它好像……一直很累。” 我： （提出邀请）“如果我们告诉这位疲惫的‘安全主管’：‘我们现在在一个非常安全的环境里。我（的咨询师）会在这里一起守护。也许，你可以暂时把这个“防止灾难”的重任交给我们一会儿，只是几分钟，去隔壁房间休息一下？那里有一张为你准备的舒服的沙发。我们不是要解雇你，只是邀请你短暂地休个假。等你回来，我们会把你担心的一切都告诉你。’ —— 你觉得，这样真诚地邀请它，它会愿意考虑暂时离开一下吗？” 这不仅仅是一个简单的“暂停”指令，而是一个充满尊重与合作的邀请。 在我不断的实践中领悟到，邀请部分进入等候室时，我们的态度需要遵循几个核心原则，也是我们人际沟通中有效沟通的元素。 首先是感恩 —— 看到每一个保护者（无论是严厉的管理者还是冲动的消防员），其根本目的都是竭尽全力保护那个“内在小孩”，不让它再次暴露于过去的伤痛，我们承认它存在的意义与付出的辛劳； 其次是承诺与保证—— 我们会明确表示，这只是一次暂时的休息，它将被郑重地邀请回来，而我们也必将全神贯注地倾听它需要诉说的一切。 还有尊重 —— 我们是发出诚挚的邀请，而非下达粗暴的驱逐令。 当保护的部分感受到这样的感恩、保证与尊重时，它才会感到安全，也才更愿意尝试信任这个安排，暂时退后一步。 终于，“管理员”同意去到了“等候室。” 记得在我跟璇璇真实的咨询过程中，管理员第一次走进“等候室”是一个值得纪念的时刻，我咨询笔记上重重的做一个下划线。这一刻，我看到的是，璇璇能够暂时将那些混乱或苛责的部分分离开来，为内在腾出空间——她的“真我”便如同云层后的阳光，得以浮现，开始温和地重建她内心的秩序。 The "Waiting Room": A Sanctuary for the Protectors to Rest Dr. Richard Schwartz, the founder of IFS, originally trained as a family systems therapist. In one of his many explanatory videos on Youtube, he illustrates a key concept: when family therapy sessions become too heated, asking one member to briefly step into another room can diffuse tension and allow clearer communication within the family unit. He ingeniously applied this insight to the individual psyche—conceptualizing a person's internal system as a family, where each part is a member. Thus, when a client's emotional tolerance nears its limit or their internal dialogue becomes chaotic, the therapist can invite the client to gently ask a dominant or intrusive part to step aside into an imagined "waiting room" for a temporary respite. Establishing a genuinely effective waiting room is a profoundly creative process. It is a part of my work I particularly cherish for its playfulness, as it invites clients to draw upon their personal imagination. In collaboration with diverse individuals, I have witnessed a stunning variety of these inner sanctuaries, each a poignant reflection of the safety and comfort their psyche most craves. One client envisioned a sun-drenched beach hut with a cool coconut drink at hand; another, a living room filled with the warm crackle of vinyl records, accompanied by pancakes and a deeply inviting sofa; yet another, a silent library lit by candles, its walls lined with books. Xuan’s waiting room was simpler—devoid of vibrant colors or elaborate decor—yet it was quiet and comforting. For her, the process of closing her eyes to connect with her inner world was unfamiliar and often led to internal disarray. Over months of sessions, I would guide her with phrases like, "I sense the Manager has many concerns right now; it's on high alert. You can tell it we have a waiting room. We will address every single one of its worries later, because it has been incredibly diligent in its duty to care for you. For now, we'd like to spend a little more time with the inner child. Would it be willing to go to the waiting room? If it's uneasy, we can leave the door open. It can still hear our conversation and see everything that happens. We simply hope it can step aside and allow a few minutes of quiet." Gradually, the tenor of Xuan's internal dialogue began to soften. It evolved from the Manager's initial, absolute insistence that "it must stay here," to a reluctant, temporary withdrawal, and eventually to the Manager being able to remain in the waiting room for longer periods. Trauma work is not accomplished in a single session. It is more akin to tending a physical wound: it requires consistent, gentle attention—cleansing, disinfecting, and bandaging—over time. Whether this process spans weeks or years in once-weekly therapy depends on the depth of the trauma; the psyche, like the body, heals at its own pace, a rhythm we must respect. For someone with an impatient disposition, the IFS process can feel painstakingly slow. Yet, its greatest strength lies precisely in this gentleness and non-coercion, which is why it is uniquely suited for the delicate, profound work of trauma recovery. “等候室”：保护者可以休息的度假胜地 创始人理查德·史沃茨博士（Dr. Richard Schwartz）最初是一位家庭系统治疗师。油管上有很多他介绍IFS的视频，在其中一个视频中，他讲到，当一个家庭会议的场面过于激烈时，如果请某位家庭成员暂时离开房间，到另一个空间去等待一下，整个家庭的紧张感就能得到缓解，对话也可以更清晰地进行。于是，将这个智慧也用在了个体的内心工作上——把一个人的内在系统看成一个家庭，每个部分都是这个家庭的成员。当来访者的情绪耐受快到极限，或者内在谈话开始变得混乱时，咨询师可以邀请来访者，将此刻正在强势主导或干扰的某个部分，暂时请到另一个“房间”里休息一下。我把这个想象出来的空间，称为“等候室”（the waiting room）。 建立一个真正有效的“等候室”，其实是一个充满创造性的过程。我在咨询中遇见许多来访者带来的乐趣与个人特色。这正是我格外喜爱的工作环节。在与不同来访者的合作中，我见证了各式各样、极富生命色彩的等候室它们往往是内心最需要的那种安全与舒适的写照：有的是一间阳光充沛的海边小屋，手边有冰凉的椰汁；有的是一间飘着黑胶唱片旋律的客厅，配着松饼和一张可以深陷进去的大沙发；有的则是一间点着蜡烛、有一整面墙书籍的静谧书房…… 璇璇的“等候室”比较简朴，没有丰富的色彩、也没有创意的装饰，但这里是安静舒适的。在咨询中，璇璇闭着眼睛去感受自己的内心是一个她不熟悉的过程，场面经常变得有些混乱。横跨数月的咨询中，引导到类似的一句话：“我感受到了现在管理员很有顾虑，它在辩护，你可以告诉它，我们有一个等候室，它所有的顾虑和心思我们稍后都会跟它聊，因为它非常尽职尽责的照顾着你，现在，我们想跟内在的这个小孩子多待一会儿，它愿意去到那个等候室吗？如果它不放心，我们可以开着门，它也可以听见我们的讲话，看见发生的一切。我们只希望它能过去，保持几分钟的安静。” 璇璇内心的对话有了初步的平缓。从最开始的“它（管理员）必须留在这里”，到极不愿意但可以暂时离开，再到管理者可以更长时间的在等候室里待着。创伤的工作，不是一次“管理员”的离开，跟“流放者”的一次对话我们就可以做完的。就像我们清理伤口，在一段时间里，每天都要清理、消毒、包扎一样。一周一次的咨询，根据来访创伤程度不同，可能几周，可能几年。身心疗愈都有自己的节奏，我们需要尊重这个节奏。IFS的咨询过程对一个急性子的人来讲，感受是非常缓慢的——它最大的优势也正在于这份温和与不强迫，这也是为什么IFS尤其适合创伤疗愈工作。 In the next chapter, we will enter the next phase of Xuan's therapy: as the inner clamor begins to quiet, the real work of reconstruction—mending the connections between parts, and between the parts and the Self—can truly begin. What kind of dialogue will this require? And what challenges might we encounter along the way? Stay tuned. 下一章，我们将进入璇璇咨询的下一个阶段：当内在的喧嚣得以暂歇，真正的重建工作——修复部分与部分之间、部分与真我之间的连接——才真正开始。这需要怎样的对话？又会遇见怎样的挑战？敬请期待。

文章由作者 秦小杰 （心理咨询师，心理治疗师）用中文写作，后经deepseek翻译成英文，秉持： 写作初心和来访咨询故事写作原则 . This article was originally written in Chinese by  Qin Xiaojie  (Counselor and Psychotherapist), and later translated into English with DeepSeek, adhering to the author’s  original intent and principles of writing about client stories . Author:  Xiaojie Qin  | Psychotherapist Time: Dec 2025 My therapy with Xuanxuan, a client whose experience is defined by  polarized states (Chapter 1) , began with the crucial work of emotional stabilization. We made meaningful progress, reshaping unhelpful thoughts through top-down approaches like  CBT  and ACT. Yet, we eventually reached a plateau—a familiar but frustrating stage of  "I know, but I can't" (Chapter 2) . During this time, I too navigated my own feelings of professional uncertainty and frustration. Preparing for our sessions became an exercise in grounding myself in my own  Self (Chapter 3) ,  a foundational concept in IFS. This shift in my own stance allowed me to pivot our work. We moved from top-down analysis to bottom-up exploration through IFS parts work. This led to a pivotal understanding: her recovery had stalled because of a profound, protective rift— an  estranged alliance (Chapter 4)  between two of her most powerful parts. Now, let's step into the therapy room. The following dialogue brings that theoretical understanding to life, showing how these estranged allies manifested in the raw, real-time ‘mania’ and ‘depression’ of our session. 作者： 秦小杰 时间：2025年12月 我与璇璇（ 一位内在状态双相分化的来访者，见第一章 ）的心理咨询工作，始于情绪稳定化这一关键阶段。我们通过如 认知行为治疗(CBT) 、接纳承诺疗法（ACT）等“自上而下”的认知行为疗法，重塑了诸多非适应性思维，取得了切实的进展。 然而，我们最终仍抵达了一个瓶颈——那个熟悉却令人挫败的  “我知道，但我做不到” 阶段（ 第二章 ） 。在那段时期，我也在应对自己身为咨询师的困惑与无力感。准备与她的会谈，成了我练习回到自己内在 真我（Self，IFS核心理念，见第三章）   的功课。 正是我自身状态的这一转变，让我得以调整我们的工作方向。我们从“自上而下”的分析，转向了通过IFS部分心理学进行的“自下而上”的探索。这引出了一个关键性的理解：她的康复之所以停滞，是因为两个最强大的部分之间，存在一种深刻且具有保护性的裂痕——一种 “疏离的联盟” （见第四章） 。 现在，让我们一同走进咨询室。接下来的这段真实对话，将把这一理论理解生动地呈现出来，展示这对“疏离的盟友”如何在咨询的实时进程中，外显为那些未经掩饰的“ 躁狂 ”与 “ 抑郁 ”状态。 The Inner Dynamics of Xuanxuan's Parts At this point, we have clearly identified the inner parts within Xuanxuan: The Exile : The wounded, hidden little girl from her early years. The Manager : A tyrant who protects the system through rules and control. The Firefighter : An impulsive, fiercely protective brute who uses extreme methods (violence, depression, etc.) to numb the pain. They share the same ultimate goal:  to protect the 'exiled' little girl at all costs. However, they hold  diametrically opposed beliefs about the best way to protect her, and become "estranged allies".  The Manager views the Firefighter as a dangerous " saboteur" , while the Firefighter sees the Manager as a heartless " tyrant" . This fundamental distrust causes their methods to clash and counteract each other, pulling Xuanxan's internal system between the two poles of  "extreme control"  and  "catastrophic collapse,"  leaving her utterly exhausted. 璇璇内在部分的博弈 至此，我们已经清晰识别出旋旋的内在部分： 「 流放者 」部分：那个早年受伤、被隐藏的小女孩 「 管理者 」部分：通过规则和控制保护系统一个暴君 「 消防员 」部分：冲动又护犊的暴徒，用极端方式（暴力、抑郁等）止痛 它们怀有同一个最终目的：不惜一切保护那个流放者“小女孩”。然而，它们对‘如何最好地保护’有着截然不同的信念。管理者视消防员为危险的‘破坏分子’，消防员则视管理者为无情的‘暴君’。这种根本上的不信任，导致它们的方法互相冲突、互相掣肘，将璇璇的内在系统拉向‘过度控制’与‘失控崩溃’的两极，令她精疲力竭。 Having a Dialogue with Her Parts Xuanxuan's counseling, during periods of relative emotional stability, entered a phase of working directly with trauma. During this stage, I primarily employed  experiential techniques , aiming to temporarily bypass her habitual logical thinking—a neuroscientific approach often termed  "bottom-up"  processing. The following excerpt is from one session where visualization was used while unpacking an event from her past week, as it quite vividly illustrates the dynamic interplay occurring within her internal system: Xuanxuan had fallen into severe guilt after forgetting to pack her child's luggage, leading to the following exchange. "I retreated to my room, lay in bed, and felt awful," Xuanxuan said. "Close your eyes and feel what thoughts are present in your mind," I asked. "You're an incompetent mother," she replied. This voice of guilt and blame was her  Manager  part in action. It maintains control, a “mania” stage, through harsh self-criticism, fueling an exhausting cycle of  perfectionism and relentless drive —all in a desperate attempt to prevent the deeper, paralyzing anxiety that her perceived “failure” might trigger. "If this voice were in this room, where would it come from?" I asked, attempting to visualize her experience for better understanding. "In that wall," she said slowly, looking at one wall of the therapy room. "What does it look like?" I asked, deepening the imagery. "It looks fierce, hiding right there in the wall," she answered. "Keep your eyes closed. What would you like to say to this part?" She paused for a long time. Her breathing grew rapid, her expression pained. She couldn't utter a word. Her body leaned away from the wall, as if facing that fierce part directly was too uncomfortable. "That's okay. Shall we try, in your imagination, to slowly turn and face this part?" "I don't dare," she responded immediately. Her body grew stiffer, her head lowered, and she unconsciously rubbed her fingers to soothe her distress. Where did this fierce voice truly come from? In the early stages of our work, I would have tried to answer this question from an IFS perspective, potentially falling into a classic pitfall. I will address this practical challenge of IFS in a later chapter. Noticing she was nearing the edge of her emotional tolerance window; I immediately guided her back to her breath. Yet, within less than a minute, while her body relaxed, it began tilting uncontrollably backward. "I'm going to fall asleep," she murmured, her voice suddenly wrapped in a thick blanket of drowsiness. When working with clients who have experienced severe trauma, it's crucial to constantly monitor their state of consciousness. Xuanxuan's state was not physical fatigue. Our visualization work had triggered an emotion too intense to bear—when the psyche is overwhelmed, the parasympathetic nervous system can over-activate. It's like triggering an extreme self-preservation program, plunging the whole person into a "freeze" or "shutdown" state. This is a shared human survival instinct, solely to avoid unbearable pain. Xuanxuan is a girl who grew up with domestic violence. Making it this far speaks to her incredible resilience, yet her heart also holds mountains of unhealed wounding. In this moment, as her pain was rekindled, the  Firefighter  part—responsible for "emergency response"—took over. The dissociative "I'm falling asleep" reaction in the session was the  Firefighter  in action. In her daily life, this same "protection" manifests as the  depressive, hypo-aroused  state of being unable to get out of bed, work, or care for herself—a world shrouded in exhaustion and numbness. "Stay awake. Feel the strength in your back. Sit up straight. Stay awake," I followed immediately with guidance, my voice steady and firm. I needed to help her return within the window of emotional tolerance, as she had just been triggered and was almost slipping into dissociative sleep. Only then could our exploration continue. In those brief ten minutes, I witnessed a classic cycle of her internal system: the seemingly powerful  Manager  itself lives in fear, and its harshness is a defense against a deeper collapse. When this defense itself is pushed to the limit, the  Firefighter  ends the crisis by shutting down the system entirely. Exactly aligned with her  state of  polarizing life  in the last couple of years. This reveals a deeper truth:  both the Manager and the Firefighter are, at their core, protectors.  They just use their own methods to jointly guard the wounded  Exile  hidden deepest within. 咨询中，我们和“部分”的对话 璇璇的咨询，在其情绪状态相对平稳的阶段，在璇璇的情绪调节能力能到提升后，我们开始针对创伤部分进行探索。在这一时期，我主要采用 体验式的工作手法 ，旨在暂时绕开其惯常的逻辑思维模式，从神经学角度而言，这是一种“ 自下而上 ”的干预路径。 下文截取了一次意象对话中的片段，这段互动较为生动地展现了其内在各部分的动态博弈：她因忘记给孩子打包行李而陷入严重内疚，我们进行了以下的对话。 “我躲回屋子里，躺在床上，一直很难受。”璇璇说。 “闭上眼睛，去感受一下自己思绪里有什么样的想法？”我问到。 “你是一个不称职的妈妈。”她说。 这个内疚与责备的声音，正是她内在 “ 管理者 ” 部分在运作。它通过严厉的自我批判来维持控制，外显为璇璇的 完美主义 与那种“ 躁狂 ”状态的“ 必须为家庭不断付出、不能停歇 ”的强迫性忙碌——这一切，都旨在防止她因想象中的“失职”而触发更深、更无法承受的焦虑。 “这个声音，如果在这个房间，它从哪里来？”我尝试将她的经历意象化，便于我们更好的理解。 “在那个墙里面”。她看着咨询室的一面墙缓缓说道。 “它长的什么样？”我进一步深化意向画面。 “长的很凶，就藏在这个墙里。”她回答到。 “保持眼睛闭合，你想对这个部分说什么？” 她停留很久，呼吸变得急促，表情痛苦，没能说出一个字，她的身体和这面墙有一个倾斜，仿佛正对着那个凶狠的部分会让她感受不适。 “没关系，那我们尝试在想象中，你慢慢的正面去对着这个部分好吗？” “我不敢。”她立即回应。她的身体更加僵硬，头低着，无意识的捏搓着手指以缓解她的痛苦。 这个凶狠的声音到底来自哪个部分，我在咨询前期，会尝试从IFS的角度去解答这个问题，而也就陷入了一个经典误区。下之后的章节中，我会放到IFS在实操中的难点中去阐述。 我察觉到她即将超出 情绪承受的窗口 ，便立刻引导她回到呼吸上。然而，不到一分钟，她的身体虽然放松下来，却开始不受控制地向后倾斜。 “我要睡着了。”她的声音忽然被一股强烈的困意包裹。 在与经历过深度创伤的来访者工作时，时刻关注他们的意识状态至关重要。璇璇此刻的状态，并非生理上的疲惫，而是我们刚刚的意象工作触发了过于强烈的情绪——当心理无法承受时， 副交感神经系统 会过度激活，如同启动一个极端的自我保护程序，将整个人带入“冻结”“”或“关机”状态。这是人类共有的生存本能，只为避开那些难以承受的痛苦。 璇璇是在家暴中长大的女孩。能走到今天，她已足够坚韧，但内心深处也积压了太多未愈的伤痛。此刻，当她的痛苦再次被点燃，那个负责“紧急灭火”的消防员部分便接管了一切。咨询室里“我快睡着了”的 解离反应 ，正是 “消防员” 在行动——而在她日常生活中，这份“保护”同样会显现为卧床不起、无法工作或照顾自己的“低唤醒”的 抑郁状态 ，那是被疲惫与麻木笼罩的另一个世界。 “保持觉知，用力坐直，保持清醒。”我立刻跟上指导语，声音平稳而坚定。我需 要帮助她回到情绪所能承受的窗口之内 ，因为她刚刚被触发，几乎要陷入 解离的睡眠 。只有这样，接下来的探索才有可能。 在这短短的十分钟里，我亲眼见证了她内在系统的一次典型循环： 看似强大的“管理者”其实也活在恐惧之中，而它的严厉是为了防御更深层的崩溃。当这个防御过度时，“消防员”便用彻底关闭系统的方式结束这场危机。 璇璇‘双相’的生活状态 ， 揭示了一个更深层的真相：无论是管理者还是消防员，它们本质上都是保护者，只是用各自的方式，共同守护着那个藏在最深处、受伤的“流放者”。 As I sat with her, I felt a deep sense of empathetic recognition. Beneath her competent exterior, I could now perceive the system at work: the overburdened Manager enforcing control through guilt, and the reactive Firefighter defending a core of childhood pain. Moving beyond merely hearing about her life, I was beginning to feel  the architecture of her inner conflict. Previous interventions had faltered because I was operating from a "problem-solving" framework. When I shifted to a stance of nonjudgmental witnessing—observing her process without an agenda—something changed. I connected with her experience on a different level. That connection allowed my own reactive feelings ( countertransference ) to settle, which proved to be a pivotal turning point in our alliance. 坐在她对面，我心中涌起深深的心疼。在她坚强的外表下，是一个用“内疚”和“控制”拼命保护所有部分的管理者，和一个不顾一切保护受伤小女孩的消防员。这种亲身体验与仅仅听她讲述生活困境截然不同。当数次干预失败后，我放下CBT的“解决问题”模式， 以“观察”而非“干预”的态度贴近她的体验时 ，我终于真正用我的心灵“看见”了她。那一刻，我的 反移情 再次化解，这对我们的咨询至关重要。 Where did we go from there? In the following chapter, I'll walk through the next phase of our work: committing to a  "bottom-up" approach to slowly mend the connections between Xuanxuan's inner parts. 下一章，我将继续呈现我们的工作进程：如何通过持续的“自下而上”的体验式对话，重建璇璇内在系统各部分之间的关系。文中会附上一段真实的咨询对话实录，具体展现这一过程是如何在语言、情绪与觉察中展开的，并最终导向她内心世界的初步整合。