Chapter 23 Chapter 21 Rain Silently

Among the cases I have come into contact with, this patient ranks third in terms of headaches, which is very painful.Contacting her is too strenuous, a full 7 months.Not once a month for seven months, but for three or four days for seven months! Her problem is actually a common one for mental patients: silence.To be honest, I like patients who gossip most. Although they are not the easiest, at least it is not complicated to get in touch with them. If you talk slowly, you can always find clues.If you have to say it according to the percentage, the type of talking with eloquence only accounts for 30% at most; the other 20% belongs to what you say no one can understand; the silence is almost 30%?Probably not; the remaining types are complicated and difficult to classify.Sometimes it has to be broadly divided into: auditory hallucinations, visual hallucinations, delusions, hysteria or something.There is no way to do this, the national psychiatrists + psychologists + various related doctors who can directly participate in the treatment, all counted, almost each of them can share nearly three-digit patients.This is not a matter of labor intensity, but to enter the patient's mind and understand the patient's worldview before finding a way to treat it (emphasis: not to cure, but to find a way to treat it), which requires a lot of time and energy.It takes a long time to get in touch with normal people, let alone patients.Senior people in this line basically have strong logical thinking and objective discrimination instincts.Note that I am not talking about ability, but instinct.These are easily shaken by non-instinctives.And there must be a bit of a single-minded mentality, which sounds like persistence.There is no way, it would be dangerous not to do this—it’s not that I haven’t seen a psychiatrist become a doctor psychiatrist.So sometimes I'm glad I'm not a psychiatrist.

Uh... digressed... let's go a little further... The so-called silent type is not cold or gloomy, they just don't talk, or they don't bother to talk to ordinary people, they are better at playing with themselves.There are roughly three types of silence: some are accompanied by autism; some think that your thinking cannot keep up with him and there is nothing to talk about; the rest are very pessimistic and depressed patients.In fact, the vast majority of mental patients are compound types, and most of the single types are not classified as patients.Exceptions apply. Let me add one more sentence: the silent type is not the one with the most geniuses.Those who talk eloquently have the most geniuses-of course, whether you can find it is still a question.And quite a few of them are very cunning, and they like to fight wits and courage with you while pretending to be stupid, so as not to make you scratch your head, and they take it as fun.

The she I want to talk about belongs to the first feature + the second feature in the silent type.Her autism is not too serious, but the problem is that she has a very strong personality, and if she doesn't get a word right, today's meeting is basically a waste.After the initial contact failure and consecutive failures, I began to show my Erpilian spirit, going when I had nothing to do, and going around after I had something to do.I thought it was dating and chasing her. Finally, the door of her heart was opened by me. ... Me: "I've always wanted to ask you, but I didn't dare to ask."

She smiled: "I don't think you are the kind of timid person." Me: "Hmm...maybe. Can I ask why you used so many tapes to cover the TV?" She: "Because they (referring to her parents) work in a TV station." Me: "No, you have to explain the middle process clearly, I really don't understand." She is a very smart girl, she knew how to read at a very early age, and her grandma taught her a little bit, but she didn't know how she comprehended it. At the age of 5, I held the newspaper and read it seriously, not pretending, but reading it for real.The kindergarten teacher thought it was funny and asked her what the newspaper said. She could read the headlines from the front page without looking up, and she was a recognized child prodigy.Her parents both work in the TV station, and they basically never brought her up since she was born. She was brought up by her grandma, so she is closest to her grandma.When she was 11 years old, her grandma passed away. She held her grandma's hand and cried all day and night, biting people when she was pulled away.Since then, I haven't talked to people much.The parents had no choice and no time, and she drove away several babysitters.But a genius is a genius, and my parents didn't worry about it until I went to college.After graduation, her parents arranged for her to work in a TV station, but she couldn't live or die.I found a job as an artist.Going in and out of the house in silence every day, basically not talking.If it wasn't for her doing some weird things, I guess her parents still let her be like this.Will there be such excellent parents?I tell you, yes, it is true.

She frowned: "They made TV shows. I hate what they do, so I blocked the TV." Me: "Understood, otherwise I would have always thought it was some weird reason, so it is like this." She: "Well, I thought you would say I was abnormal, and then tell me not to be like this in the future." Me: "Just block it, it's not my TV, so why not stop it." she laughed. Me: "Then you changed the door lock, why did you give your parents a key?" She suddenly became cold: "Anyway, every time they come back, one is enough." Me: "Oh... the second wish is also fulfilled, I have to think about the last one."

She laughed again: "I am not a lamp god." Me: "I don't ask the last one, let me just assume: you always wear this black frame, it must not be for looking good, it should be for the feeling of hiding?" She: "You guessed wrong, it's not the kind of psychological comfort you thought." I froze for a moment: "You have studied psychology..." Her: "After you first approached me, I read." It turned out that she was watching me too. Me: "Does the last wish ask about the frame? This is really tangled... Can I have multiple wishes?"

She: "Of course not, there are only three. You have to think about whether to ask about the frame." It can be seen that she is very happy. I intuitively think that the frame issue is important. Me: "...it's decided: why are you wearing this black frame?" She: "Did you find out?" To be honest, I didn't notice it, but I nodded pretending to be profound. She thought about it seriously: "Well, let me tell you why, this is my biggest secret." Me: "Well, I won't tell anyone." She: "I wear this frame so that I don't see the colors every day."

Me: "The color of the day?" Her: "You can't see it, I can see the colors of the day." Me: "Every day...does it mean sunny or cloudy?" Her: "No, it's not about the weather." Me: "The color of the sky?" She: "No, every morning when I get up, I will look outside first. I can't see it in the house. It has to be outside. It has color." Me: "What is the concept?" Her: "It's the color of every day." Me: "You have to tell me this in detail, not like the previous few months." She: "Well... I know you have good intentions and came to help me. At first I ignored you not because of your problem, but because you were brought by them (referring to her parents). But I am not sick, I It's normal, it's just that I don't like talking."

Me: "Well, I can understand, and it's because they don't know you that they think you're abnormal. Like the problem with the TV and the problem with you letting all the fish out." She once released several very expensive fish raised at home.The basic motivation is not to release animals, which is more complicated: because fish farming does not require regular feeding or special attention like cats and dogs, fish farming can now automate everything, automatic water filtration, automatic feeder, automatic constant temperature, and electricity. Regardless of the month, just look at it.She felt that the fish was too sad, without even the most basic human attention, it was just used for viewing, so she let it go.That's what she told me not long ago.

She: "Well, but...I can see the color of every day. I only told my grandma. Grandma doesn't think I'm abnormal, but you may think I'm abnormal in the future." Me: "Uh, not necessarily, I'm not a timid person, and I've seen quite a few weird people. 'The color of the day' is the interpretation of my third wish, and you have no regrets." She: "...Every morning I have to look outside, and what I see is that the whole field of vision is hazy with a certain color. For example, black, yellow, green, blue, etc. It has been like this since I was a child. For example, it is covered If it is a light gray, then this day is very dull; if it is yellow, there will be some unexpected things on this day, neither bad nor good. If it is blue, there will definitely be good things happening on this day, so I like blue color; if it was black, something would happen to make me unhappy."

Me: "So accurate? Never missed a shot?" She smiled: "Miss... I have never missed." Me: "Understood, you can't see when you wear this frame, right?" She: "Well, when I was in middle school, I discovered by accident that when I wear this black frame, I can't see the color of the day, and I don't know why." Me: "Looks like you didn't mention pink? Right?" She became serious: "I don't like that color." There was nothing pink or red in her room. Why do I?" Her: "Pink is a bad color." Me: "Uh...would you mind telling me?" She: "If it's pink, someone will die." Me: "Someone you know?" She: "No, I saw some news. Natural and man-made disasters in newspapers or on the Internet. Don't colleagues and classmates tell me that their relatives and friends have passed away." Me: "So it's like this... so pink is the worst color..." Her: "Red is the worst." Me: "Oh? Red? Very... very bad?" Her: "Yeah." Me: "Can you give me an example? If you don't want to say it, just say something else; by the way, are there any complicated colors that you don't know?" I had to be cautious. She: "It's because there are colors I don't know, that's why I studied art... I've only seen red twice." Me: "Then..." She: "One time was when my grandma passed away, and the other time was when my good high school classmate passed away." Me: "That's right... By the way, the hazy shroud you mentioned is like fog?" She: "It is slightly glowing, except for those two times." I thought she wanted to continue, so she didn't interrupt. She bit her lip and hesitated for a while: "On the day my grandma passed away, I felt uncomfortable when I woke up in the morning. When I opened the curtains, I was terrified. There were patches of blood red everywhere, which was very dazzling. I was so scared that I hid in the house and dared not I went out, and at night I heard that my grandma was dying in the hospital. My mother took me to the hospital. I closed my eyes and cried. I fell many times on the way and broke my leg. My mother also scolded me, saying that I was not sensible …When I arrived at the hospital, I saw a blue light on my grandma, but the surroundings were blood red. I held my grandma and did not let go, just crying…I was afraid…Grandma told me a lot…she said the color of the day It's actually the color of every day, not scary. She also said she can see it too, so she knows I'm not lying. Finally grandma told me that she would be proud of me every day because I have something that other people don't have... Finally grandma Said to leave the blue to me, not to take it away, and then printed the blue on my palm...Whenever I am happy, the color will be very bright...When I am sad, the color will be very dark...I Knowing that grandma guards me..." She looked at the palm of her right hand with red eyes. I held my breath and looked at her silently, listening to the sound of rain outside the window. After a while, her body slowly relaxed. Her: "Thank you." Me: "No, I should thank you for telling me your secret." She: "It will not be a secret in the future, I will tell others. But I will still wear this frame, not because I am afraid, but because I don't like some colors." Me: "Then wear it... Do I have a color?" She thought about my coat: "It depends on what you're wearing." We all laughed. As an equal exchange, I also said some of my secrets, and she laughed so hard. It was actually me who was really relieved.I know she's let go of the heaviest things psychologically, even though it's only the beginning. Before leaving, I exchanged the blue pen for another secret of hers: she likes rain, because in her opinion, the color of rain is light blue, every drop. When I got downstairs, I looked up and saw that she was showing half of her head through the window, waving the blue pen in her hand. I seem to have smiled. Walking on the street, I put away my umbrella and just drenched like that. The rain is silent.