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We all love people who represent an image： who take to life as if it were a stage。 Acting out impressions we can easily interpret； taking their bow from the rest of us。
Some of them bee cult figures： James Dean； Kennedy； Elvis； Grace； Diana – the list is long。 But there are also modest examples of people pursuing symbolic lives in relative obscurity。
I’m sure you can think of a few examples of people who have successfully invented themselves： the perfect housewife ensconced in her colour…matched home； the businessman in a tailored suit taking his seat in the board…room。 The bearded bohemian； the stern intellectual； the sweet…smiling bimbo； and so on。 All helping us decipher the mystery of human nature by labelling themselves unequivocally。
In my younger days I worshipped such people； mistaking for self…realisation masks cultivated by their owners to the point where they lost touch with their own reality。
Perhaps that was the reason why they all died young？
I didn’t see the connection。 Mourning my lost idols； I did my best to follow in their footsteps。 Until the day when a wise person told me：
“Dear girl； don’t be tempted to live by an image。 It’s a much too dangerous game。 To survive in this world you need substance。 And an image is no more substantial than a dream。”
When did you last hear someone sighing： “Those were the days。” Was it a middle…aged woman in clothes too young for her； humming her favourite golden oldie； or a weathered man who still wears his hair long and speaks in the idiom of twenty years ago？ Or – was it your own voice you heard？
You may well be one of many who are caught in a time warp maintaining an old…fashioned style； as if； at some stage； your inner watch had stopped； and everything since passed you by。
We all have traces of it； this urge to halt the passage of time； whether it is a wish for eternal youth； a nostalgic hankering for things gone by； or a vain attempt to defer the final curtain。
But then there are those who cling to an outgrown persona； because it is the only one they trust。 They seem to be afraid to mature and develop； accept that each given moment offers and adds something new。
What deep insecurity lies behind such fear？ Was there in their past but one occasion； when they came vibrantly alive？ When they felt； finally； that they were loved and valued： someone with a right to be？
Whatever the reason； there is no escaping the fact that life is all about change and growth。 You are now a somewhat different person from when you started reading this text。
‘No one can bathe in the same river twice。 Because everything flows。’
At six years of age； stunned by grief； I left my first home； not expecting to return。
In those days it was considered healthy to turn your back on pain。 Never look back； but build a bright new future with whatever was at hand。
I grew up with a void in my heart： an ever…present sadness that I did not understand。 I thought it had always been there。 Part of my constitution。 Until I went back。
The land between the lakes looked the same： on one side； Little Lee； frosty surface glittering in sunlight within a frame of golden reeds； streaked by long blue shadows from snow…laden trees。 This was our playground in winter and summer。 A haven of childhood serenity。
To the north； guarded by dark forests； shrouded by purple cloud rising as the ice settled； the vast deep waters of Large Lee stretched into the unknown。 Menacing； but at the same time powerful； majestic。 The steep shores – forbidden ground – were dangerously attractive。
Spanning these two was the space where my character formed； my picture of the world developed。 It was my cradle – the cradle we never outgrow； although we often deny it。
Tears filled my eyes； as the wound inside me slowly began to heal。 For the first time in forty years I knew the feeling of being whole。
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Others 别人（1）
随着现代社会婚姻的动荡和单亲家庭的增多，重组家庭变得越来越普遍。而这其中关系的处理绝非易事。实际上，人们犯的最大的错误，莫过于假装他们过得很轻松。
在亲眼看到了很多家庭中的离合后，我忍不住要下一个结论：那些带着孩子改嫁的女人们，总是倾向于对新的配偶产生一种歉疚感，觉得是自己让这个男人承受了别的男人种下的苦果；而再婚的男人们，常常对自己的孩子有种愧疚感，认为自己让孩子不得不承受母亲被人替代的结局。
对于第一种情况，女人带来的孩子会认为自己是不受欢迎、没人疼的包袱；而对于第二种情况，男人带来的孩子则会挑剔、憎恶父亲的选择。无论哪种情况，都无益于这个重组家庭的和谐，也无法让新的家庭有一个健康的环境。
我们都需要一个温馨、安全的家来当作自己的营地，一个能让自己为生命中各种各样的战斗做好准备的地方，一个能让自己在战斗中喘息的栖息之地。
军队中的每一个士兵都有平等的权利。所以，让我们停止内疚和抱歉，不论是否有血缘相连，都来支持彼此，让彼此感受除家以外任何地方都无法给予的东西。
我认识的一个男人是个麻烦缠身的人，他正值中年，经历着婚变。在治疗期间，医生让他在一页纸上写下所有他认为处理不来的事情，在纸的背面则写下他最享受的事情。
“好了。”当他把写好的纸递给医生时，医生说：“你的一部分工作完成了，现在剩下的，就是由你自己决定如何处理单子上的这些事情了。”
他开始向写下的那些他不喜欢的事情一一告别：妻子、孩子、年迈的父亲、爱流口水的狗，还有他大价钱卖掉的房子，那些钱足以让他还清贷款，支付赡养费。
他把工作列在了以上事情的下一行：由于身体原因提早退休。接着他自己住到了托雷莫里诺（Torremolinos）的一个小公寓里，在那里，他可以整年地享受他在单子上列出的两件他极其享受的事——高尔夫和帆板。
就算他的确过得不开心，但是，用治疗语言来讲，他至少对自己是真实的。
两年后，他回到了伦敦，接受抑郁症的治疗。
“这个治疗师一点也不好，”他向我抱怨道，“她说，我的问题在于，我太自私了。如果我做一些对别人有益的事，我的健康情况就会大为好转。这跟我以前所知道的完全是相悖的！”
“我如何才能兼顾二者呢？”他绝望地说道，“既照顾到别人，同时又活出真实的自己？这根本不可能啊！”
如我所述，这是一个麻烦重重的灵魂。
我还记得自己被嫉妒咬噬时的滋味，那让我感觉自己恶毒极了。我嫉妒的对象是学校里的一个女孩儿：金发、活跃，还有一双绿色的眼睛。不仅仅是漂亮，她还是那么的沉着。像她这样的女孩儿还能再期望得到什么？
她的自命不凡简直让我无法忍受。她是那么的光芒四射，风趣幽默，开心快活。人人都喜欢她，除了像我一样少数被她折磨的人。
有一天，当她走过来问我，是否愿意跟她交朋友时，我简直要晕了。她看起来非常真诚，说自己非常敬佩我在班上的威严，那是她一直想尽力争取的。
终于，她的吸引力还是占了上风，我成为了她最忠实的奴仆，沐浴在她的光芒底下。而作为我忠实的支持者，她推动着我那脆弱的自我意识。这段友谊简直如同天赐。
然而，就像所有熊熊燃烧的火焰一样，她也没能燃烧多久。就在19岁生日后不久，她毫无预兆地死去了。
这件事给了我重重一击。我曾一直以为，在我们两人中间，她是那个受到特别恩典的，而我是那个被剥夺了种种权力的人。
想起自己之前的嫉妒，我终于意识到，我们无法得知生命中会遇到什么，但是无论如何，都不能给嫉妒留有任何余地。
我的一个朋友自从出生那天起，就一直生活在她那可怕母亲的折磨下。她生活的空间里处处充溢着情绪化的因子，而其中内疚便是最具杀伤力的武器。似乎她的每一个呼吸都会伤害到母亲，让母亲难过、烦忧、郁闷或是更糟。
“我再也忍受不了了，”她绝望地告诉我，“我的整个生活都在向我妈妈道歉。”
“对，必须停止，”我说，“你已经是个成年的独立的女人了。该是你告诉她她应该为自己的情绪负责任的时候了。没有人有权利为他自己的感受而责怪别人。”
她听取了我的建议。但是，很显然，这一切得到的是她母亲冷冰冰的漠视。
在那之后的一天，我的这个朋友开了一个独唱会。她是个很有才华的音乐家。她的母亲，像往常一样，也参加了。演出后，她把女儿的表演贬得一无是处，还说了些她从洗手间里听来的观众的评价——刺耳的、羞辱的谣传。书 包 网 txt小说上传分享
Others 别人（2）
她那一向温柔体贴的女儿突然大哭了起来。“妈妈，别再说了。”她请求道，“你一定知道这是多么伤人。”
她母亲犀利地看了看她：“别为你的情绪责怪我，亲爱的，你不是也说过吗，应该为自己的感受负责。”
“不，”突然间，我的朋友似乎悟到了什么，那或许是她生命中最重要的觉悟，“如果别人是有意去伤害你，那句话就不适用。”
我是每个欺凌弱小者的盘中餐，我总是能像蜂蜜吸引蜜蜂一样吸引各色爱欺负人的家伙。面对攻击，我好像毫无抵抗力。
每次别人故意攻击我的时候，不管是语言上的还是身体上的，我都会哭鼻子，完完全全地向耻辱投降，让那些人得逞。
我是多么痛恨自己如此懦弱！痛恨自己不能站起来反抗，这让我感到深深地羞愧。
那时，天真的我并没有认识到，在你原本以为会找到友谊的地方发现残酷，或是在你信任他人的时候却发现虚伪时，感觉到委屈并不代表着软弱。
后来，我逐渐发觉，这种特殊的痛苦感并非仅是我对个人经历的体验，当面对诸多人类不公时——小动物被虐待的故事、毫无缘由的暴力事件、大屠杀的纪录片、现代战争的暴行——我能感受到同样的哽咽和酸楚。
然而，我所为之悲恸的，并非受害者，他们的灵魂并没有被恶魔占据。我的悲恸，是为那些误导无辜者的人们，他们有意让自己失去了生命中唯一有价值的东西，失去了唯一能给生命赋予价值的东西。
他们让自己否定和远离了作为一个人所应该体验到的善良和美好。对他们而言，无所谓希望，也无从拯救。
如今，当我的眼泪为他们而流时，我已不再感到羞愧。
With marital breakdown and single parenthood increasing； step…families are being more and more mon。 Such relationships are never easy。 Indeed； the worst mistake people make is to pretend they are。
Having witnessed first…hand the powerful emotions ruling the responses of those involved in family arrangements not of their choosing； I can’t help noting； with interest that women who have a family and re…marry tend to be apologetic to their new partner for saddling him with another man’s issue； whereas a man with a family is much more likely to be apologetic towards his progeny for replacing their mother in his affections。
In the first instance； children are made to feel that they are an undesired； undesirable appendage； in the other； the children appoint themselves critical； resentful judges of their father’s choice。 Neither is conducive to harmonious co…existence； or a healthy psychological climate。
We all need the family as a fortable and secure base camp： a place to prepare for life’s battles and recover in between campaigns。
All members of a troop have an equal right to its facilities。 So let’s forget about apologizing。 Support each other； irrespective of blood ties； the way no one else will。
A man I know is a troubled soul。 Mid…life； he had a breakdown。 In therapy he was told to make a list of things he felt he couldn’t cope with； and overleaf； write down what he most enjoyed。
“Well done；” said the therapist； as he handed in his list。 “That’s the bulk of your work done。 All that remains is for you to decide what you want to do about all these。”
He started by saying good…bye to the things he didn’t favour： wife； children； elderly father； drooling dog。 The family home he sold at a handsome profit； which allowed him to pay off both wife and hefty mortgage。
His job was next in line： early retirement on the grounds of ill health。 Then he went to live in a small apartment in Torremolinos； where he could indulge； all year round； in the two items on his list of preference： golf and windsurfing。
If he wasn’t entirely happy； he was at least； at last； in therapeutic parlance； true to himself。
Two years later he was back in London receiving treatment for depression。
Others 别人（3）
“This therapist is no good at all；” he plained to me。 “She says my problem is； I’m too selfish。 If I did something to benefit other people； my health would improve dramatically。 That’s a plete contradiction of what I was taught before！”
“How can I do both？” he exclaimed despairingly。 “Benefit others whilst remaining true to myself？ It’s impossible！”
As I said； he is a troubled soul。
I can recall being eaten with envy。 It made me feel quite ill。 The object was a girl in my school： blonde； dynamic； with glittering green eyes。 Beyond being beautiful； she was wonderfully self…possessed。 What else could a teenager wish for？
Her smugness irritated me no end。 She was so radiant； so full of fun； so damned pleased with life。 Everyone adored her； except me and a few others equally afflicted。
I nearly fainted the day she came to me requesting； would I be her friend？ Seemingly sincere； she claimed to be in awe of my prowess in the classroom； where she herself had to struggle。
Resentment gave way to devotion。 I became her faithful servant sunning myself in her glory； she my loyal supporter boosting my fragile self。 It was a friendship made in heaven； forged for life。
Sadly； like many flares burning brightly； hers was not made to last。 Shortly after her nineteenth birthday； without warning； she died。
It struck me then as absurd that； of the two of us； she should be the one who perished； while I was the one who was spared。 I had always regarded her as the one who was privileged； myself as the one deprived。
I thought of my former envy and realised that； since we don’t know what’s in store for any of us； envy is never justified。
A friend of mine had been tyrannised by a formidable mother since the day she was born。 She lived under an emotional terror…reign； where guilt was the main offensive weapon。 It seemed she couldn’t blink an eye without causing her mother to be hurt； upset； annoyed； distressed or worse。
“I can’t take any more；” she told me in despair。 “My whole life is spent apologising to my mother。”
“It has to stop；” I agreed。 “You are an adult independent woman。 It’s time you told her once and for all t