CHAPTER 420: CHAPTER 413: THE REASON BEHIND IT

Difficulty sleeping and trouble concentrating?

That’s too broad.

Many issues can lead to these two problems.

Depression, mania, anxiety, stress, even anorexia can...

"I see, it seems you do have a very urgent need."

Nan Zhubin nodded with a "got the situation" expression: "How about I get to know you first? How should I address you?"

"Isn’t all that already written on the materials?" The visitor frowned, gesturing at the folder in Nan Zhubin’s hand, and continued, "Here’s the thing, you might have misunderstood. I’m not here to just chat, I want help."

"I’m dealing with insomnia and difficulty concentrating, I hope you can teach me some quick sleep techniques to aid my sleep, or some methods to clear my mind so I can better focus."

"Your psychological consultation should offer these, right? I checked online, things like meditation or self-hypnosis."

Do you have them?

Indeed there are.

But that’s not how consultations work.

"I completely understand your current urgent feeling, insomnia, and lack of concentration are indeed quite disruptive to daily life."

Nan Zhubin first used a response imbued with [empathy].

Then he used an analogy: "But it’s like with a cold, a viral cold and a cold caused by wind chill have similar symptoms, but different underlying factors, so the treatments are naturally different."

Here, Nan Zhubin was using a medical analogy, which requires caution when used in typical consultations.

Because many visitors are sensitive about their issues being labeled as "illnesses," and dislike being seen as "patients"—this has its own stigma problem.

At this moment, after using the medical analogy, Nan Zhubin observed the visitor slightly—the other party did not seem offended.

Thus, he could be a bit bolder.

Nan Zhubin continued, "Therefore, I need to know your specific situation. When you go to the hospital, doctors also ask what time you sleep, when you eat, and what you eat in a day, right?"

Before the visitor spoke, Nan Zhubin added.

"Furthermore, psychological consultation is a one-on-one service, akin to a private doctor, which makes it evidently—expensive."

"I believe you also hope to ensure your consultation fee is well spent, right?"

This string of words was quite clear.

The mask on the visitor’s face puffed up, possibly indicating a sigh through the nose.

"So what now? Introductions?"

Nan Zhubin rephrased: "Let’s say it’s to ’better understand you.’ Say whatever comes to mind, anything’s fine."

"Alright," the visitor replied.

"First—hello Teacher, my surname is also Nan, and my name is Nan Zhihao." The visitor spoke seemingly respectfully, but his body remained in a slouched position, arms crossed and nestled into the sofa.

As he reclined longer, he slumped even lower, appearing even more casual.

"Interestingly, since leaving my hometown, Teacher Nan, you’re the first person I’ve met with the same surname." Nan Zhihao said, "This surname seems quite rare outside."

"But in my hometown, there’s a village called ’Nan Zhai Village,’ where almost everyone shares the ’Nan’ surname."

This comment seemed irrelevant, but during the consultation, there’s no such thing as "useless" words.

Nan Zhubin pondered the visitor’s psychological state when saying this.

Then he responded: "It’s nice that we have such a connection."

The visitor scrutinized Nan Zhubin: "Are you from Beidu, Teacher Nan?"

Nan Zhubin shook his head: "A small town in Jiang Province, something like a suburban area, where we also have quite a few with the ’Nan’ surname."

When Nan Zhubin answered this question, the visitor seemed thoughtful.

Then he considered and said, "Now that introductions are done, I’ll discuss my problem... like telling a doctor about one’s illness."

The visitor’s gaze shifted away from Nan Zhubin, blinking twice.

"Currently, I’m pursuing a Master’s degree, intending to graduate next year, lately preparing my thesis, so maybe I’m... well, anxious."

"Perhaps that’s why I experience insomnia. It started with staying up until one or two, but lately it’s been four or five o’clock before I can sleep. Occasionally, I spend the night lying there, eyes closed but awake."

Speaking of this, Nan Zhihao shifted his body.

Nan Zhubin nodded, indicating understanding.

"Besides insomnia, there’s also a lack of concentration," the visitor continued.

Nan Zhubin nodded, then looked at the visitor.

The visitor abruptly paused, looking directly at Nan Zhubin.

Nan Zhubin smoothly pursued, "How do you experience lack of concentration?"

"Just unfocused, unable to concentrate on doing something."

Nan Zhubin shook his head: "There are various forms of inattentiveness. The attention might shift from one thing to another, or suddenly become impatient and start thinking of other things, or perhaps just daydream out of nowhere while sitting."

"Which type does your lack of concentration belong to?"

The visitor’s mask twitched again, and Nan Zhubin heard a click.

"My lack of concentration... is more about thinking about things."

Nan Zhubin probed further: "What things are you thinking about?"

"Just things that didn’t go well during the day."

The visitor suddenly moved away from the backrest, sitting straight, elbows on thighs close to the knees, with his whole body leaning forward.

"Do you know that ’kind’, Teacher Nan? Like—arguing during the day but not winning, then at night imagining how to perform better, how to win the argument in your mind."

"It’s not only at night; even the next day, or two, you continue thinking about it, now and then contemplating how ’if I hadn’t done that, it would’ve been better,’ leading to all sorts of ideas."

"Or in other situations, where you didn’t answer someone’s question well, or did something inappropriate, leading to various... chaotic thoughts."

Nan Zhihao spoke a lot in one breath.

The mouth and chin movements caused the visitor’s mask to slip down slightly, prompting him to constantly pull it up during the process.

Nan Zhubin nodded: "So what are you thinking about?"

The visitor paused.

Perhaps because speaking too much at once made breathing inconvenient with the mask on.

The visitor’s chest heaved intensely a couple of times.