At 4 am, the corridors of Beijing Anding Hospital, a leading establishment for mental health, were quiet, punctuated only by the distant sweep of street cleaners outside. For psychiatrist Jiang Tao, this ordinary moment turned extraordinary.

After spending hours saving two adolescents from suicide attempts, he watched the cleaners methodically sweep the streets and realized, "We sweep the visible garbage every day, yet the spiritual pain rotting in people's hearts often goes unseen."

It was in this instant that Jiang resolved to capture three decades of clinical encounters in his book, A Steady Heart: 12,000 Days in Psychiatry, published by China CITIC Press.

Jiang's book is not a textbook, but a human chronicle that witnesses suffering, resilience, and the quiet courage of those living with mental illness.

Through vivid patient stories, such as a girl with anorexia, a student crushed by parental expectations, and an elderly woman fluctuating between mania and depression, he reveals that mental illness is not a shameful affliction but a call for help: "True healing begins when we stop seeing symptoms as enemies and start seeing them as cries for help."

"Patients sit in the same chair every day, telling different yet strangely similar stories," he writes. "These stories are mirrors — they reveal the cunning cruelty of mental illness, and they reveal the complexity, fragility and resilience of humanity."

A young man in his early 20s, once unstoppable on the basketball court, was now too exhausted even to leave his room. He once ate two bowls of ramen in one sitting; now the smell of food nauseates him.

"You don't know," he whispered, "how long it took me to have the courage to come here".

Jiang notes that these physical manifestations — insomnia, anxiety, fatigue — are not trivial complaints. They are embodied evidence of profound distress, often invisible to those around them.

Then there is Tang Jia, a 17-year-old girl whose story illustrates the tragic consequences of misunderstanding. Misdiagnosed with schizophrenia across multiple hospitals and treated with high doses of antipsychotics, her symptoms persisted. Jiang identified them as dissociative responses to trauma: bullying, isolation, and a family environment that offered little emotional support. "She was bearing a loneliness no child should endure," he says.

"Of course, the causes of mental illness are extremely complex and may involve genetics, upbringing, psychological trauma, or social pressures," he says. "It is not a character flaw, nor something that can be solved by simply 'thinking positively'."

Behind each case lies an intricate interplay of physiological, psychological, and social factors. "Understanding this allows us to move past the fear of mental illness and face it with a more scientific and rational perspective, whether confronting the suffering of others or our own inner struggles," he adds, noting that mental illness, once considered something minor, is gradually being accepted as a more common presence.

Jiang's path was not straightforward. From the first line in the book, "The first day I stepped into Anding Hospital, I wanted to escape", it captivates readers by offering the rare perspective of a psychiatrist who is also profoundly human.

In the 1990s, psychiatry carried a social stigma.

"When I introduced myself as a doctor from Beijing Anding Hospital, other physicians would laugh," he recalls.

"I thought about leaving," he admits. But the complexity of his patients' suffering and the encouragement from his mentors convinced him to stay. Over decades, he has witnessed dramatic improvements in diagnoses and treatment, but the human and social challenges persist.

He also observes that mental health issues now affect younger generations in ways previously unseen. Today, a quantitative portion of Chinese children and adolescents show symptoms of depression, and nearly 20 percent of the elderly suffer from depression or anxiety, he says.

"Older adults face multiple health issues and stressors, so mental illness is very common," Jiang says. Social, familial, and psychological pressures intersect with biological vulnerabilities, creating widespread mental health challenges.

Jiang does not romanticize the psychiatric profession. There are no miracle cures, no infallible doctors. Treatment is often a matter of "being a small lighthouse in a storm", providing quiet support while patients navigate the turbulent seas of their minds. He recalls a patient reading poetry by flashlight at night: "I am an island, but in the deep sea, we are tightly connected." Such moments of connection can be as potent as any clinical intervention.

Jiang's book serves as both a reflection and a cultural statement. He attributes the book to patients, families and colleagues who navigate the complex realities of psychiatric care.

He also notes that mental illness is physiological as well as psychological — a malfunctioning organ, the brain, is just like a diseased heart or pancreas. He writes: "No one blames a heart patient for being weak. So when the brain, the body's supercomputer, malfunctions, we should respond with understanding, not judgment."

He continues by stressing the social dimensions of mental health: families, schools and communities must provide support. "Acknowledging the need for help is far more courageous than pretending to be strong," he writes. He urges society to create spaces where vulnerability is accepted rather than stigmatized.

Through case histories, professional insight, and human reflection, his book invites readers to see mental illness not as a distant phenomenon but as a universal condition. The anxieties of adolescents, the depression of the elderly, and the quiet struggles of colleagues and neighbors are all part of the same spectrum.

Jiang's patients and the humanity he brings to their stories leave readers with one enduring lesson: to be human is to struggle; to connect is to heal. In a society often fixated on productivity and perfection, his work is a reminder that empathy, presence, and understanding are as vital as any medication or diagnosis.

"After finishing this book, I asked myself: What can I change? The answer may be: Nothing at all. Yet I still wanted to write, to let more people know that mental illness is not a dead-end, nor some shameful, hidden affliction," Jiang writes. "Like a cold or diabetes, it is the body crying out for help. It can be treated. There is a way forward, and the key is to face it honestly. Early detection and early intervention can help one emerge from the struggle and return to a normal, fulfilling life."