Psychodynamic Formulation: Dynamic, Structural, Developmental, Relational

For advanced clinicians, psychodynamic formulation is not a summary, it is a clinical instrument. It organizes perception, sharpens timing, and determines what kind of intervention is metabolizable in a given moment. A contemporary formulation integrates four interlocking dimensions: dynamic, structural, developmental, and relational. None alone is sufficient; together they create a clinically alive map.

1. The Dynamic Dimension: Conflict and Compromise

The dynamic axis asks: What wish is in conflict with what fear? What desire (for love, autonomy, aggression, recognition) collides with prohibition, guilt, shame, or dread of retaliation? Symptoms are read as compromise formations; defenses are both protective and expressive.

Clinically, this dimension guides interpretive work. If a patient repeatedly self-sabotages after success, a dynamic lens might explore rivalry, unconscious guilt, or fear of surpassing a loved object. Interpretation here aims to loosen the grip of rigid defensive solutions and increase affect tolerance. Timing is crucial: premature exposure of conflict can intensify resistance rather than relieve it.

2. The Structural Dimension: Capacities and Deficits

The structural axis shifts from “What is repressed?” to “What functions are fragile?” It evaluates ego capacities: affect regulation, impulse control, symbolization, reflective function, and the ability to sustain ambivalence.

A patient who collapses into panic or dissociation when closeness increases may not primarily be defending against forbidden wishes; they may lack sufficient regulatory capacity. Here, technique changes. Instead of immediate interpretation of dependency conflict, the work may focus on stabilizing affect, pacing intimacy, and strengthening mentalization. The structural dimension answers: Can this mind use what I am about to say?

3. The Developmental Dimension: History as Organization

The developmental axis situates current patterns within formative relational experiences. Attachment disruptions, trauma, chronic misattunement, or overcontrol shape enduring templates for self and other.

In practice, developmental formulation does not reduce the present to biography. Rather, it helps decode the intensity and rigidity of current reactions. A patient’s terror of disagreement may reflect early experiences where autonomy led to withdrawal or humiliation. Interventions are shaped by this awareness: conflict is handled carefully, separations are processed explicitly, and new relational experiences are constructed deliberately.

4. The Relational Dimension: The Field Between

The relational axis treats the therapeutic relationship itself as central data. What roles are being co-created? Who is invited to become the critic, the rescuer, the abandoning object? Where are enactments forming?

This dimension guides work on rupture and repair. If the therapist feels subtly pressured to reassure, dominate, or retreat, this may reflect the patient’s implicit relational template. Naming these patterns—without blame—creates thirdness and expands relational flexibility.

Integration in Action

An effective psychodynamic formulation moves fluidly among these axes. A cancellation might be read dynamically (fear of dependency), structurally (overwhelm), developmentally (anticipatory abandonment), and relationally (testing reliability). The art lies in deciding which dimension is most operative now.

Applied psychoanalytic formulation, then, is disciplined pluralism. It asks not only “What explains this?” but “What intervention does this explanation justify?” In that shift—from description to action—formulation becomes treatment.

See also: From “drive/conflict” to multiple metapsychologies: conflict, deficit, trauma, relational

Thirdness in Psychoanalytic Therapy: From Two Minds to a Shared Space

Many clinical impasses in psychoanalysis can be described in the simplest possible way: we are stuck in twoness. The patient feels something; the therapist reacts. The patient then reacts to the reaction. Soon the work becomes a closed circuit—attack/defend, pursue/withdraw, idealize/disappoint, comply/control. In contemporary psychoanalytic practice, thirdness names the capacity in psychoanalysis to step out of that dyad without abandoning intimacy: the emergence of a third position—a reflective, symbolizing space in which both partners can look at what is happening between them rather than be possessed by it.

What “Thirdness” Means (Clinically)

Thirdness is not a person and not a technique. It is a function: the creation of a shared meta-level—a “we-can-think-about-this” stance. When thirdness is present, experience becomes representable. Affect becomes nameable rather than contagious. The relationship becomes an object of inquiry rather than a battlefield. Importantly, thirdness is not neutral distance; it is an intersubjective achievement that holds two truths at once: I am in this with you and we can also think about it together.

How Thirdness Gets Lost

Thirdness collapses under high arousal, shame, or threat—precisely when patients most need it. Common collapse patterns include:

• Complementarity traps: one becomes the needy child, the other the competent parent; one attacks, the other placates; one dominates, the other disappears.

• Epistemic shutdown: the patient cannot imagine being understood without being controlled; the therapist begins to “work harder,” interpret more, or retreat into technique.

• Dissociative shifts: the patient “goes away,” becomes blank or performative; the therapist feels bored, sleepy, or suddenly ineffective.

These are not merely obstacles. They are the clinical data: the moment-to-moment story of how intimacy becomes dangerous.

Thirdness as a Practice: Three Moves

1) Mark the shift.

Thirdness often begins with a simple observation that names process without blame:

“Something changed just now—when I said that, it felt like the room tightened.”

2) Hold both subjectivities.

Instead of choosing whose version is “right,” thirdness keeps two perspectives alive:

“Part of you expects I’ll judge you; another part still hopes I might understand.”

3) Create a shared referent.

A metaphor, image, or formulation can become a “third thing” both can point to:

“It’s like we’re pulled into the same old choreography—one pushes, one retreats.”

This is not commentary for its own sake. It is intervention: it converts enactment into symbolization.

Repair as the Royal Road to Thirdness

Thirdness is most powerfully built in psychoanalysis through rupture and repair. When a misattunement is acknowledged (“I missed you there”), when impact is taken seriously, and when the therapist neither collapses into guilt nor defends with authority, the patient learns something new: conflict can be held without annihilation. That learning is thirdness—an internalized capacity to stay in relationship while thinking.

What Thirdness Makes Possible

When thirdness stabilizes, deeper analytic work becomes feasible: interpretation lands without humiliation, silence becomes usable, dependency can be mourned rather than disguised, and aggression can be mentalized rather than enacted. Patients begin to experience not only that the therapist understands them, but that they can understand themselves in the presence of another.

In that sense, thirdness is one of the most practical ideas psychoanalysis has produced: it is the moment the dyad stops being fate and becomes a space for freedom.

Formulation as Clinical Action: How Psychoanalytic Theory Becomes Technique

In advanced psychoanalytic training, “formulation” is often treated as a document: a coherent story you can present in supervision, polish over weeks, and revise with hindsight. In applied psychoanalytic practice, formulation is something else entirely. It is a mode of action in the session—a way of selecting what counts as signal, deciding what to hold, and choosing an intervention that fits the patient’s psychic moment. A formulation is not a portrait; it is a compass.

From Explanation to Orientation

A clinically useful formulation does not aim to explain everything. It aims to orient you toward the next right move. It answers four questions:

1. What is the patient doing to survive? (defenses, strategies, self-organization)

2. What is the patient trying to protect? (vulnerability, longing, shame, dread, annihilation anxiety)

3. What is being repeated here—with me? (transference, enactment, attachment pattern)

4. What kind of change is currently possible? (insight, symbolization, integration, rupture/repair)

Notice that none of these are purely descriptive. Each implies a technical stance.

The Multi-Axial Formulation (Not a Checklist—A Set of Lenses)

A contemporary applied formulation usually runs on several axes at once:

• Dynamic/conflict axis: wish–fear–defense–compromise. What desire is dangerous? What prohibitions organize guilt, shame, or dread?

• Structural/deficit axis: capacities for regulation, symbolization, play, and reflective function. Where does the mind fail to form?

• Developmental/attachment axis: proximity–distance strategies, separation distress, epistemic trust, secure-base demands. How does the patient manage dependence?

• Trauma/dissociation axis: state shifts, unmentalized affect, procedural “parts,” collapse, intrusion. What cannot be remembered because it is still happening internally?

• Relational field axis: mutual influence, enactment, recognition, the ethics of the frame. What is being co-created that neither of you “chose”?

The point is not eclecticism; it is diagnostic pluralism with technical discipline.

The most common advanced mistake is not “bad theory,” but wrong dose. A conflict formulation often tempts interpretation; a trauma formulation often requires pacing and containment before meaning can be metabolized. A deficit formulation may call for reliability, empathic attunement, and minimal frustration; a relational formulation may require naming what is happening between you rather than what is happening “inside” the patient. Formulation, here, is a theory of when.

A Micro-Example: One Event, Two Formulations

A patient abruptly cancels after a good session.

• Conflict reading: progress mobilized guilt or forbidden longing → cancellation as resistance, superego retaliation, fear of dependency.

• Trauma/dissociation reading: increased intimacy triggered state shift → cancellation as protective dissociation, autonomic overwhelm, loss of reflective capacity.

Same event; different action. In the first, you might interpret the fear of closeness. In the second, you might first restore safety and mentalization, then slowly link cancellation to overwhelm.

The Clinical Test of a Formulation

A formulation is “true enough” when it changes your listening, reduces acting-out, and creates interventions the patient can use. If your formulation makes you feel clever but leaves the patient more defended, more collapsed, or more compliant, it is not yet applied. In contemporary psychoanalytic practice, formulation earns its keep only when it becomes a tactful form of care.

Transference and countertransference in psychoanalysis explained

I psychoanalysis and psychoanalytic therapy, transference and countertransference are not “concepts” you apply after the fact; they are the living medium of psychoanalytic work. In contemporary applied practice, they function less like a diagnostic label (“this is a father transference”) and more like a real-time relational process that organizes attention, affect, and action in the room.

Transference is the patient’s here-and-now use of the therapeutic relationship to replay, test, and stabilize an internal relational world. It is not simply distortion; it is also communication and survival strategy. Practically, transference shows up as expectations the patient seems to hold as facts: “You’ll get bored,” “You’re judging me,” “If I need you, you’ll disappear,” “You want me to be impressive,” or the opposite—idealization, merger, insistence that “you’re different.” It also appears in micro-behaviors: apologizing preemptively, controlling the agenda, seducing, attacking, going blank, arriving late, refusing to pay, “forgetting” key material—each can be a relational move shaped by earlier attachment, trauma, or conflict.

Countertransference is what happens in you in response: your feelings, fantasies, body states, impulses, and interpretive “certainties.” Modern technique treats countertransference not as contamination to eliminate, but as data—provided it is processed rather than enacted. In practice, countertransference may feel like sudden sleepiness, irritation, rescue fantasies, dread, tenderness, impatience, sexual charge, or a push to teach, reassure, confront, or withdraw. The crucial clinical question is: what is this feeling doing? Is it pulling you into a familiar role in the patient’s relational script (critic, savior, passive object, seduced admirer, punitive authority)?

This is where enactment becomes central. When transference and countertransference lock together, something gets performed instead of symbolized: the therapist reassures too quickly, becomes cold and “technical,” breaks the frame, retaliates, overextends, or silently disengages; the patient complies, collapses, escalates, or disappears. The applied task is not to avoid enactment (impossible), but to notice it early, slow it down, and make it thinkable: “I’m aware I’m rushing to fix this—something about how trapped you feel is happening between us right now.”

Used well, transference/countertransference guide timing and dose: when interpretation will liberate, when it will crush; when holding is necessary; when repair is the intervention. The goal is disciplined participation—feeling the field without being driven by it.

Applied psychoanalysis: The clinical situation as data: countertransference, enactment, the frame

Psychoanalysis becomes genuinely applied when we stop treating the session as a transcript and begin treating it as a living instrument. “The clinical situation as data” names a shift in epistemology: the primary material is not only what the patient reports, but what happens in the room—in time, in affect, in the frame, and between two subjectivities. For advanced practitioners, this is not a poetic claim; it is a technical one. The question is: what counts as evidence, and how do we read it without collapsing into either naïve subjectivism (“anything I feel is true”) or rigid objectivism (“only content counts”)?

A contemporary applied stance reads the session on multiple tracks at once. First, manifest content: narrative, associations, themes, repetitions. Second, affect: what emotions are present, absent, displaced, or contagious—especially shame, envy, dread, tenderness, boredom. Third, process: tempo, silence, shifts in mentalization, oscillations between proximity and distance, the micro-regulations of attention. Fourth, relationship: transference configurations, attachment strategies, bids for recognition, tests of reliability. Fifth, frame-events: lateness, cancellations, fees, technology glitches, sudden requests—often treated as “administrative,” yet frequently saturated with meaning.

Countertransference as data

These tracks become clinical data through the lens of countertransference. Modern technique does not treat countertransference as mere contamination; it treats it as an instrument—an affective register of what the patient cannot yet symbolize and therefore induces, evokes, or organizes in the analyst. But instrument use requires calibration. We ask: is this feeling characteristic of me, or newly emergent here? Does it persist across sessions? Does it intensify at specific topics or silences? Does it push me toward action (rescue, retaliation, withdrawal, seduction, pedagogy)? Countertransference becomes data precisely when it is worked through: not acted out, not denied, but transformed into thought.

The concept of enactment sharpens this further. Enactments are not therapeutic failures to be avoided at all costs; they are inevitable co-productions in which dissociated or unsymbolized relational knowledge comes to life. The key clinical move is not “prevent enactment,” but “recognize it early, slow it down, and metabolize it.” When we can name the shift—something happened between us—we create a bridge from implicit procedural pattern to explicit reflective space. Rupture and repair are thus not add-ons; they are central evidence about the patient’s relational world and about what the analytic relationship can become.

This is why the frame is not merely a container; it is also a generator of data. The patient’s relationship to time, boundaries, money, silence, and separations is not external to treatment—it is the treatment, expressed in the most economical language available. A missed session may be grief, protest, triumph, panic, or dissociation; its meaning is rarely singular. The analyst’s task is to hold the multiplicity without rushing to interpret.

To treat the clinical situation as data is to practice a disciplined double attention: staying close enough to feel the field, and far enough to think it. The session is not a report about the psyche. It is the psyche—relationally instantiated—asking, in real time, whether it can be known without being crushed, and met without being swallowed.

Applied Psychoanalysis: From “drive/conflict” to multiple metapsychologies: conflict, deficit, trauma, relational

Psychoanalysis is often taught as if it were a single language—one grammar (drive), one engine (conflict), one royal road (interpretation). But contemporary applied psychoanalytic practice is defined by a different reality: we work with multiple metapsychologies at once. Not because theory is fashionable, but because patients arrive with different kinds of suffering—different forms of psychic organization—and the clinic forces us to choose, moment by moment, what counts as an intervention, what counts as data, and what we mean by change.

Psychoanalysis' centers of gravity

A useful map begins with four major “centers of gravity” that structure applied work today: conflict, deficit, trauma, and relational field. These are not schools to pledge allegiance to; they are lenses that alter what we see, what we privilege, and what we risk missing.

In a conflict metapsychology, symptoms are compromises: desire collides with prohibition, love with hatred, autonomy with dependence. The therapist listens for latent meaning, defensive operations, and the return of the repressed. Technique favors interpretation—especially of defenses and transference—timed to loosen rigid compromise formations. Change is often conceived as increased insight, affect tolerance, and a reorganization of defensive and superego economies.

In a deficit (or structural) metapsychology, pathology is less a battle than a lack: failures in psychic structure, symbolization, or self-cohesion. The clinic emphasizes functions—regulation, self-soothing, capacity for play—rather than the uncovering of forbidden wishes. Here “neutrality” can become a misattunement if the patient’s core struggle is disintegration rather than guilt. Technique leans toward provision: reliable holding, empathic attunement, and carefully dosed frustration that builds structure rather than breaks it. Change looks like sturdier self-experience and expanded capacity for relatedness and meaning.

In trauma metapsychologies, the problem is not primarily repression but excess—experience that could not be metabolized and returns as intrusion, dissociation, or somaticized affect. The analytic task becomes pacing and containment so that symbolization can occur without retraumatization. Interpretation still matters, but often later; early work may involve stabilizing arousal, tracking state shifts, and constructing dual awareness (living in the room while remembering what overwhelms). Change is measured by integration: a widening of the window of tolerance and a decrease in dissociative necessity.

Finally, relational metapsychology treats the analytic situation itself as the field where meaning is generated. The focus shifts from “what is inside” to “what happens between,” including enactment, mutual influence, and the ethics of recognition. The therapist’s subjectivity is not noise but instrument—handled with discipline. Change is not only insight but new relational experience: rupture and repair, the emergence of thirdness, the patient’s ability to sustain complexity without retreating into defensive certainty.

Applied psychoanalysis becomes contemporary when we stop asking “Which theory is true?” and start asking, clinically: What kind of suffering is this? What does my patient need from the frame right now—interpretation, holding, pacing, recognition? The art is not eclecticism. It is disciplined switching: holding multiple metapsychologies in mind while choosing one intervention that fits the psychic moment.

See also: Psychodynamic Formulation: Dynamic, Structural, Developmental, Relational

Back to: Contemporary Theories in Applied Psychoanalysis

Contemporary Theories in Applied Psychoanalysis

From “drive/conflict” to multiple metapsychologies: conflict, deficit, trauma, relational

The clinical situation as data: countertransference, enactment, the frame

concepts and explanations

Transference and countertransference in psychoanalysis

Thirdness in Psychoanalytic Therapy: From Two Minds to a Shared Space