- 牡丹和芍药同宗？ [2012/04]
- 从旧金山湾区到大峡谷四日游 [2012/04]
- “只因为在人群中多看了你一眼” [2012/06]
- 走近美洲土狼，coyote ugly [2012/02]
- 【现场报道】旧金山华人抗议日本强占我钓鱼岛（二） [2012/09]
- 后海夜色 -- Night Life in Beijing [2011/09]
- 【太平盛世】步行街 (Shopping Plaza) [2011/09]
- 体验城际高速 [2011/09]
- 安享晚年 [2012/07]
- 英译《我的祖国》 [2011/01]
- 惊涛拍岸 （Spindrifts of Big Sur） [2011/05]
- 【现场报道】旧金山华人抗议日本强占我钓鱼岛（一） [2012/09]
- 【酒足饭饱，信口评说】天津狗不理包子 [2012/05]
- 【北岳恒山】千年悬空寺 [2012/05]
- 内部特供酒 [2012/01]
- 天津俗文化 [2011/09]
- 苹果梨 Asian Pear [2011/10]
- 【太平盛世】父老乡亲 [2011/09]
- 精品二锅头 [2011/10]
- 香椿菜 [2011/10]
- 厦大校园，美尽东南 [2010/11]
- 春的四月，院内花开 [2012/04]
- 苍鹭多高，鹈鹕多大 [2011/07]
- 家乡西凤酒 [2011/11]
- 春天多美好 [2012/05]
- 登峰六部曲 [2012/01]
- 黄了银杏红了枫叶 [2011/12]
头一次碰到心理医疗(psychotherapy)这个英文单词，人还在在中国，那时对这个概念的理解可谓模棱两可。以后的日子里，一看到这个词就会想起哲学系的一位教授，一个（上世纪）五十年代从波斯顿大学获得心理学硕士的学者。他的海外关系那些年已经够他一受的了，和很多人一样，凄惨的人生遭遇在文化大革命中达到了甚嚣尘上的地步。这不，终于熬到八十年代，老先生看到当时大学生热衷于佛洛伊德和心理学而心里激动啊。也许这一天来了，也许年轻而敏感的心终于能够承受得了那曾让他们祖辈，父辈，兄长们心中流血的痛楚。教授夸夸其谈，口若悬河，唾沫飞扬，大声叹息这个国家这个文化在心理学领域完全是一个空白，清贫如洗啊。
有一天教授接见了一位美国访问学者，一听说竟是同一专业，那个“心理医疗”的词汇就像雪崩一般从教授嘴里喷薄而出，多少年了呀，那张嘴也许在梦里就无数次拼读过这个词汇呢。多谢那位教授的狂呼乱号，加上生活里别的插曲，“心理医疗”这个概念似乎时时占据我的思维，特别是当我有闲自言自语的时候。
中国人一直以来依赖于身旁的江湖心理师，那些人算不算医生只有我们心里有数；我们的精神状态一直摇摆于状态良好和疯人院之间。所以我们为有个大家庭而骄傲，周围的亲戚朋友，大中学同学，他们不仅帮助我们在社会里升迁，给我们种种物质和非物质的便利，他们也是我们精神健康的保障啊。感觉压抑了，心中不顺了，就找亲戚朋友说事，谁愿意听就找谁说去。绝望时，事态紧急时，生死攸关时，还是向同一伙求助。感谢这些在需要时出现的人们，他们是我们生活的自豪。
只是痛彻入骨了怎么办？感受到深切的苦痛，难以忍受的苦痛，那些来自不可言喻的社会禁忌的痛苦，比如乱伦和同性恋，我们该怎么办？中国不可能没有这样的事情。中国有，这样巨大的痛苦在中国一样存在。“我看到了，我的四只眼睛都看到了”，那位教授边擦眼镜边说，擦眼镜的手不停地颤抖。“当然，只有其中的两只眼睛能够流泪。”
不奇怪的，我们在最脆弱的时候时常获得一些江湖术士的理疗，或者干脆就是误诊。江湖术士中不乏心有沉疴之人；这样的人喜欢进言，多为谬论哦，往往引人入歧途。不能再听这样的啰嗦了。心中每天都有风雷闪电，感觉了却不能言语啊。您若有心，就知道这不是耸人听闻。
怪哉，和其它国家比较，中国的自杀率还不算太高。也许我们习惯了，多层次的苦难在我们轻微的生命中已经司空见惯，我们的心理健康已经变得微不足道，到了几乎可以忽略的地步了。可是，当我们中间最敏感的心儿融入一个全新的文化，自杀和他杀就疯狂地走上了生活舞台。不会是最近我们才感觉到彼此相处不是很融洽吧？本该同病相怜，我们却同病相虐。我们反感同类，以受害者的身分指责别人为罪魁祸首。
也许这一切仅仅是生活水平的反应。当桌子上仅有果腹的面包时，心理医疗听上去是可笑的臆症，烦人的奢望。中国国内刚刚允许人们放开手脚赚钱，所以距离人们出钱看专业精神病医生的日子还有些时日呢。
那我们怎么做？我们移民到了一个全新的国度和文化，不同的生活方式带了了不同的欢乐和痛苦，我们究竟如何保持精神健康？
我常常想啊，假如我能活得足够长，我就会去国内最压抑的城市开一间诊所，为那些实在是疲倦了的心儿布置些鲜花和舒适的椅子。只是我没有心理医疗方面的专业训练。人的本能是惧怕进入一座压抑人的城市的哦，而压抑似乎占据着好大一片国土呢，不是吗？
英文原文写于 February, 1996 。。。。 中文翻译于，July， 2010
================ 英文原文 ===============
Amateur Psychotherapists
Psychotherapy first came to me as a new word of fuzzy concepts when I was still in China, a word that still reminds me of a Chinese university professor in the philosophy department who got his master's degree in psychology from Boston College in the 1950s. His overseas experience had earned him enough misery and misfortunes by the time I met him. It goes without saying that his misery peaked, like everyone else, during the Cultural Revolution. So, when the 1980s came, he was thrilled to witness that college kids started to fascinate in Sigmund Freud in particular and psychology in general. He took it that maybe those young and sensitive hearts couldn't bear the pain that made the hearts of their parents, grandparents and older brothers and sisters bleed. Anyway, the professor would talk until white foam came out of his mouth about the blank field that is psychology in our country and culture, damn it.
One day the professor met a visiting scholar from the U.S. whose field matched his old major exactly, "psychotherapy" came down like an avalanche of syllables out of his mouth which could only pronounce that word in his dreams for years... Thanks to the professor's shouting and other episodes in my life, "psychotherapy" has become a little compass which points my mind to a certain direction whenever I have time to mumble to my sweet self.
We Chinese have been relying on amateur psychotherapists, if they are any at all, for a good part of our life which is torn between sound mental health and psychiatric ward. We are proud of the tradition of our extended family and the network of friends, relatives, high school and college classmates we keep around for not only social advancement, access to resources and conveniences, but also for our psychological well-being. When we feel frustrated, that happens too often I may add, we talk to family members and friends, or to anyone we know and who is willing to listen. That's nice. When we are confronted with despair, emergency, life-and-death situations, we call upon the same group for help. We are thankful and proud to have them when in need.
And what about pain, horrific pain, pain of the unbearable variety, caused by unspeakable social taboos, such as incest and homosexuality? You can't tell me with a straight face that things such as these don't exist in China. Get real, my friend, of course they do and we have plenty of this kind of massive and destructive pain. "I see them. I see them with four eyes," as the professor shouted while cleaning his glasses and hands trembling, "and with tears coming out of two of them at times."
It should surprise no one to realize that there is this risk of exposing our hearts at vulnerable moments to amateur treatments or mistreatments really. Some amateurs might as well be patients themselves; they never fail to provide misleading guidance and even harmful advice which could lead to real trauma, as if more is need. There are explosions in our hearts which we feel but fail to acknowledge in the daily basis. You know what I mean, my friend.
Strange yet is that suicide rate is not that particularly high in China, as compared to other nations. Maybe we have grown so accustomed to suffering in so many other aspects of our pitiful life that our psychological state of mind becomes insignificant thus ignorable. However, when some of the most sensitive hearts get exposed to a new culture, things happen in the glorious forms of homicide and suicide. Or was it only yesterday that we discovered that we can't treat each other right; we lash out at those with whom we share the same illness. Or we try to point fingers to those who share the same background and say, "Look, those are the aggressors and I am the victim." Yeah, right.
Maybe it is something concerning only living standards. When we could not get our daily bread, psychotherapy bears the implication of laughable illusion and annoying eccentricity. Only now folks in China are allowed to go after money in a full-blitz manner, and you can bet that it will be a while for them to pay to see a professional psychotherapist.
But what about us? I mean those of us who have migrated to live in a different culture, enjoying or suffering through a different way of life, what do we do with our mental health?
I always think that, if I live long enough, I will open a clinic in the most depressing city in China with flowers and comfortable chairs for those fatigued hearts. But I have no training in psychotherapy, nor do I wish to venture into any depressing city, something that covers quite a territory in China, does it not?
February, 1996
One day the professor met a visiting scholar from the U.S. whose field matched his old major exactly, "psychotherapy" came down like an avalanche of syllables out of his mouth which could only pronounce that word in his dreams for years... Thanks to the professor's shouting and other episodes in my life, "psychotherapy" has become a little compass which points my mind to a certain direction whenever I have time to mumble to my sweet self.
We Chinese have been relying on amateur psychotherapists, if they are any at all, for a good part of our life which is torn between sound mental health and psychiatric ward. We are proud of the tradition of our extended family and the network of friends, relatives, high school and college classmates we keep around for not only social advancement, access to resources and conveniences, but also for our psychological well-being. When we feel frustrated, that happens too often I may add, we talk to family members and friends, or to anyone we know and who is willing to listen. That's nice. When we are confronted with despair, emergency, life-and-death situations, we call upon the same group for help. We are thankful and proud to have them when in need.
And what about pain, horrific pain, pain of the unbearable variety, caused by unspeakable social taboos, such as incest and homosexuality? You can't tell me with a straight face that things such as these don't exist in China. Get real, my friend, of course they do and we have plenty of this kind of massive and destructive pain. "I see them. I see them with four eyes," as the professor shouted while cleaning his glasses and hands trembling, "and with tears coming out of two of them at times."
It should surprise no one to realize that there is this risk of exposing our hearts at vulnerable moments to amateur treatments or mistreatments really. Some amateurs might as well be patients themselves; they never fail to provide misleading guidance and even harmful advice which could lead to real trauma, as if more is need. There are explosions in our hearts which we feel but fail to acknowledge in the daily basis. You know what I mean, my friend.
Strange yet is that suicide rate is not that particularly high in China, as compared to other nations. Maybe we have grown so accustomed to suffering in so many other aspects of our pitiful life that our psychological state of mind becomes insignificant thus ignorable. However, when some of the most sensitive hearts get exposed to a new culture, things happen in the glorious forms of homicide and suicide. Or was it only yesterday that we discovered that we can't treat each other right; we lash out at those with whom we share the same illness. Or we try to point fingers to those who share the same background and say, "Look, those are the aggressors and I am the victim." Yeah, right.
Maybe it is something concerning only living standards. When we could not get our daily bread, psychotherapy bears the implication of laughable illusion and annoying eccentricity. Only now folks in China are allowed to go after money in a full-blitz manner, and you can bet that it will be a while for them to pay to see a professional psychotherapist.
But what about us? I mean those of us who have migrated to live in a different culture, enjoying or suffering through a different way of life, what do we do with our mental health?
I always think that, if I live long enough, I will open a clinic in the most depressing city in China with flowers and comfortable chairs for those fatigued hearts. But I have no training in psychotherapy, nor do I wish to venture into any depressing city, something that covers quite a territory in China, does it not?
February, 1996