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What I do, or think I do, is to draw attention to certain patterns that I observe in the behaviour of my patients while they are with me in the consulting room. These patterns appear to me to be discernible and, sooner or later, describable in language which I can formulate and which, sooner or later, the analysand can understand. For this they must be able to learn my mode of communication – however defective. And I must be able to make a formulation which the analysand, granted that the evidence available in the analytic room can also be used to contribute to his comprehension, can understand if he will permit my formulation and his experience to reinforce each other.
To sum up: I must interpret while the evidence that I am interpreting is available to the analysand's and my scrutiny, and at no other time. These aims appear to be within the capacity of certain kinds of patient. It is supposed by me that the successful achievement of this aim is worth the patient's while. Why?
Anxiety arises because one knows that analysands come with an idea of cure, and one knows it is almost certain that they will not get, and cannot get, what they call ‘cure’. Almost – but not quite. But even supposing one can lead them to something better – a very large supposition – even that is far from certain. What then? Is it possible simply to say, “Try it”? Much analysis, and even more psychotherapy, is ludicrously omnipotent and optimistic.