a-general-introduction-to-psychoanalysis-sigmund-freud

guard against the patient. In psychoanalytic therapy we make use, as you
know, of that technique which is already familiar to you from the
interpretation of dreams. We tell the patient that without further reflection he
should put himself into a condition of calm self-observation and that he must
then communicate whatever results this introspection gives him—feelings,
thoughts, reminiscences, in the order in which they appear to his mind. At the
same time, we warn him expressly against yielding to any motive which would
induce him to choose or exclude any of his thoughts as they arise, in
whatever way the motive may be couched and however it may excuse him
from telling us the thought: "that is too unpleasant," or "too indiscreet" for
him to tell; or "it is too unimportant," or "it does not belong here," "it is
nonsensical." We impress upon him the fact that he must skim only across the
surface of his consciousness and must drop the last vestige of a critical
attitude toward that which he finds. We finally inform him that the result of
the treatment and above all its length is dependent on the conscientiousness
with which he follows this basic rule of the analytic technique. We know, in
fact, from the technique of interpreting dreams, that of all the random notions
which may occur, those against which such doubts are raised are invariably
the ones to yield the material which leads to the uncovering of the
unconscious.
The first reaction we call out by laying down this basic technical rule is that
the patient directs his entire resistance against it. The patient tries in every
way to escape its requirements. First he will declare that he cannot think of
anything, then, that so much comes to his mind that it is impossible to seize
on anything definite. Then we discover with no slight displeasure that he has
yielded to this or that critical objection, for he betrays himself by the long
pauses which he allows to occur in his speaking. He then confesses that he
really cannot bring himself to this, that he is ashamed to; he prefers to let this
motive get the upper hand over his promise. He may say that he did think of
something but that it concerns someone else and is for that reason exempt.
Or he says that what he just thought of is really too trivial, too stupid and too
foolish. I surely could not have meant that he should take such thoughts into
account. Thus it goes on, with untold variations, in the face of which we
continually reiterate that "telling everything" really means telling everything.
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