My “Unburdening” Journeys | Internal Family Systems Therapy (9)
- 4 days ago
- 18 min read
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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”。
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。
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。
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。
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。
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）。
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。
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。
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