When Patients Ask for “Tools”: A Psychoanalytic Psychologist's Perspective

It’s not unusual for patients to ask their therapists, “Do you have tools you can give me?” The request often feels paradoxically both concrete and vague. Concrete, because it suggests something tangible —perhaps a breathing exercise, a worksheet, or homework; vague, because “tools” can mean almost anything: reassurance, advice, strategies, or simply relief from their distress.

On the surface, the question makes sense. We live in a culture that prizes quick fixes, life hacks, and actionable steps. Patients often imagine therapy as a kind of toolbox, where the therapist hands over the right instrument to repair whatever feels broken.

But this way of thinking also carries an unspoken assumption: that I, as the therapist, have the tools, and that I can choose to either give them or withhold them. It assumes that therapy or mental wellness is a one-size-fits-all approach that I will dispense like a medication rather than something that will help them build their own internal capacities that are theirs to keep, something integrated.

What’s Beneath the Request

From a psychoanalytic perspective, this request for “tools” is never just about tools. It’s also about what it means to need, to depend, and to receive something from another person.

Sometimes, the request reflects a longing for certainty: “Tell me what to do so I don’t have to feel this confusion and pain.” Sometimes, it reflects frustration or fear: “If you don’t give me tools, maybe you’re keeping something from me.” And sometimes, it’s a way of testing the relationship: “Do you really have anything to offer me, or am I on my own like I've always been?”

The Paradox of Tools

The irony is that psychoanalytic psychotherapy does provide “tools”—but not always in the way patients expect. Instead of a list of strategies, what develops over time is a capacity:

• The capacity to pause and reflect, rather than react.

• The capacity to recognize patterns in relationships and choices.

• The capacity to tolerate difficult emotions without being consumed by them.

• The capacity to imagine one’s own and others’ inner worlds more fully.

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These are not tools you can carry in your pocket; they are tools you integrate and become.

The Therapist as Container

Wilfred Bion, a British psychoanalyst, offered a helpful way of thinking about this dynamic. He described the parent’s role as a container for the child’s unmanageable feelings. The child hands over raw distress, and the parent digests it, returning it in a form the child can bear.

Therapy functions in much the same way. Patients often bring emotions that feel unbearable or confusing. The therapist’s task is to “contain” them—to think about them, hold them, and help give them shape. In time, this process is internalized: the patient develops a stronger ability to be a container for their own feelings.

Why This Matters

If I always simply hand over or dispense a technique, the deeper meanings behind the request might never surface. We would miss the chance to explore: Why is it hard to trust that growth can come from reflection? Why is it important that help arrives in a particular, concrete form? Why does it feel like I, the therapist, am in control of something you lack?

By attending to these dynamics, psychoanalytic therapy goes beyond symptom relief. It helps you understand how you seek help, how you handle dependence, and how you manage frustration or uncertainty. These are not side issues; they are often at the very heart of what brings someone to therapy.

Closing Thought

When a patient asks for “tools,” I hear both the urgency for relief and the deeper questions about what it means to rely on another mind. Psychoanalytic psychotherapy offers more than quick fixes—it offers the possibility of building an inner world where your own reflective capacities become the most reliable tool you have.