Childhood

As various accounts and reports reveal, Sexual 3 individuals tend to prioritize their parents’ needs over their own. The family atmosphere is often charged with tension and emotional deficiencies, rather than being a nurturing space.

Their tendency to override their own needs stems from a continuous effort to be a good son or daughter, so that things go smoothly. They often conform to societal norms, attempting to fit into predefined gender roles and ideals of a perfect family. The belief is that by becoming what others desire, they will gain love, so they become astute observers, highly attuned to fulfilling the needs of others, mastering the art to perfection. Little by little, their

genuine and spontaneous selves are replaced by a facade of conformity. By sacrificing individuality, the drive for personal growth, they lose their intrinsic value. This self-denial, renouncing life, pleasure, and Eros, plunges them into anxiety and persistent feelings of worthlessness and guilt.

The child thus identifies with the values of the parents, and makes them their own. Most of them recognize that they have internalized the values, desires, and unfulfilled expectations of the mother, unconsciously taking on the impossible task of giving her back the satisfaction, happiness, or fulfillment she was unable to experience. In women, this often results in a complex bond with the mother, oscillating between identifying with her aspirations and fearing her as a potential rival for the father. In men, identification with the mother can lead to a conflictual relationship with the father, as they position themselves as the ideal man by her side.

Parental relationships become even more intricate due to the significant role of seduction from the mother to the son, or the father to the daughter. Sensual, sometimes sexual attention directed by one of the parents blurs the line between the child’s desire for confirmation and love and the parent’s own desires, often tinged with a sexual element. The child learns to be invaded, manipulated, or abused and, most importantly, learns to use their body to gain privileges.

This way, it already becomes apparent that in the childhood of a Sexual 3 two central elements coexist. On one hand, there’s the seduction aimed at shaping the child into what the parents desire—a vessel for their needs or a trophy. On the other hand, there’s control and authoritarianism from one or both parents. Within this context, there is room for humiliation, abuse, disqualification, and aggression.

This maternal or paternal need for control and possession diminishes the child’s sense of self. By being seen as someone who fulfills others’ needs or voids rather than as an individual, the child ends up developing a narcissistic personality, confused between who they truly are and the image they represent to others. They create the image their parents dictate as ideal and become experts at suppressing anything that doesn’t reflect it or contradicts it. In public, they are made to feel special and superior, serving as a showpiece. In private, they are discredited, as it is easier to control an insecure and ashamed child.

I was a dependent and submissive child, unable to say “No,” protest, or express my dissenting feelings. There was too much at stake. I was put by my mother between herself and my father, to emasculate him and show him that his son could provide what he couldn’t for her. So I stopped being a happy child. I guess my mother had a big void to fill, because her sadness eventually overshadowed my joy.

I couldn’t bear to see her cry. My only older brother and I were in a competition for her attention. But he has no qualms about letting her down, and that got me closer to her. This also created a rift between us, and we didn’t play much together, lacking a strong bond in childhood and youth.

Sexual 3s typically didn’t have a secure mother-child relationship, and as a result, they faced the process of individuation and a longing to go towards the father. There is a deep sense of oral dissatisfaction. The primary bond with their parents was unsatisfactory, and they continue searching for that missing connection in their romantic relationships. They remain stuck in a triangular dynamic, unable to fully embrace their mother or trust their father who may have been an absent or exploitative figure. The feeling of having been seduced and betrayed by the parent of the opposite sex carries over into their romantic relationships, where they maintain a longing for dependency.

Without realizing it, I was gradually becoming my mother’s husband during my adolescence. My father was absent, effectively nonexistent, and I assumed his place by becoming responsible and efficient, making decisions that were beyond my role as a son or my age. From that point on, I adopted a more serious, rigid personality, with little sense of humor and sometimes even embarrassment about laughing, having a good time, or enjoying the moment. The message was clear: there’s no time for pleasure, pleasure is unproductive.

Sometimes in the family of a Sexual 3 there is chaos; sometimes rigidity, authoritarianism, and repression. However, a consistent theme is that the parents are emotionally unavailable to meet their child’s needs for affection and connection. It creates in them a feeling of guilt for existing; there are things more important in the family than themselves, so they have to adapt, listen, be obedient, and please.

In chaotic family situations, which can involve issues like alcoholism or violence, they learn to adapt to avoid creating additional conflicts, and resolving situations allows them to be seen and feel “loved.”

From a very young age, my needs were often overlooked, and the family setting, far from being a place of refuge, was a constant source of tension, fear, and suffering. I was born the seventh of seven children, after a string of three girls and three boys, so my birth tipped the scales. I soon learned that to be loved I had to pay “my dues,” and take on tasks that were not typically expected of a girl.

As far back as I can remember, from around the age of five or six, when my father overindulged in alcohol, my mother would urge or even force me to mediate and resolve conflicts between the two of them, which generally took place during weekend meals. During these episodes, my mother delegated to me the responsibility of convincing my alcoholic father to go to sleep. I spent many long Sunday afternoons trying to calm him down and distract him, or acting as a confidant for their grievances. I soon realized that I had to use my childhood playfulness and innocence to take care of the adults in my life, hoping to be seen, to matter, or to be worthy of their love. My mother knew that I was my father’s favorite daughter, and, in her ignorance, she took advantage of this by involving me in extinguishing the fires of their disputes. Many weekends were dedicated to enduring and witnessing their arguments. On those occasions, I wanted to free my mother from the suffering she dramatically expressed through prolonged cries that instilled a sense of guilt in me and my brother. Thus, I made a vow to myself never to disappoint or disillusion her again, to avoid disobeying her, and never to give her problems or worries. I took on the responsibility of taking care of my father during his moments of alcoholic imbalance to spare my mother and the entire family from suffering. Sundays became heavy days, full of sadness.

I embraced the role of being responsible for everyone’s well-being. I was always at the forefront of dealing with economic and health problems, which were constantly present in my family. I grew up not seeing much money and learned to survive on very little. Early on, my professional work allowed me to live with dignity, and I see that in romantic relationships, I tend to place myself in a certain economic dependence, as if I were projecting on my partner the role of the provider I lacked in my early life.

The child may exaggerate emotions or experiences just to finally be seen. The absence of contact and emotional containment can lead to submission that, in adolescence, transforms into rebellion towards the family unit.

I became subservient and lost my self-respect. I remember when I was seven or eight years old, I fantasized about being in the radio obituaries – that way, they would finally see me, even if it took my death for them to notice me for who I was and not what they wanted me to be.

I used to read my parents’ faces (especially my dad’s) to know how they were doing, and what they needed from me. Now, I find myself doing the same with my partner – a sign of affection can make me idealize a perfect life, a dream that many times is not real, and a sign of rejection triggers intense panic, leading to a persistent fear of abandonment and anxiety that drives me to take action, so that everything is fine again, and he loves me. But then, I

get angry that I had to submit, and I harden myself, I think, as a form of revenge and protection from being hurt again.

In authoritarian families, a repressive upbringing stifles the development of the ability to listen to one’s own signals, like knowing when you’re satisfied or understanding your own desires and preferences. Children learn to tell themselves, “Don’t cry, don’t feel sad; you have to be happy,” “If you do that, you’ll be disqualified or excluded.” The rules become more important than listening to their own body signals, which must be ignored to survive; “If I obey, I am loved.”

In the childhood of a Sexual 3, stories of punishment and disqualification by parents are common, undermining the child’s self-worth: “For solutions, I rely on myself,” “what’s mine is not important.”

Desire is often suppressed as it’s viewed as wrong or dangerous. The following examples demonstrate how such repression in childhood carries over into adult life.

I stopped validating my feelings and began hiding what I considered negative. I struggled to see the shadows in people, things, and within myself; the abuse, the dark side. I repressed my fears. Now I can see how much energy I spend on maintaining an image, hiding my insecurities, and covering up what I don’t want others to see by presenting myself as nice. I had, and still have, a deep fear of being ridiculed and a constant fear of disappointing others, leading to a strong need for control. It’s like putting on makeup or fixing what I don’t like. Then I start believing my lies, which leads to self-deception. If I ever tried to voice my protest or anger, whether directed at my brother or for any reason, I would meet with my mother’s sternness, the belt, or other severe punishments. I remember that my mother, highly demanding, intended for me to be a “perfect” child, just as she had been taught. I had to be a model daughter, simply for the fact that I was hers. She wanted me to be so perfect that she wouldn’t even allow me to use the bathroom when I felt like it. When I was a newborn baby, she would spend hours holding me down on a potty, waiting for me to do my business. I wouldn’t even wet myself. From a very young age, I openly rebelled against her, although it was difficult due to her covert, underhanded tactics, involving threats to tell my father. With him it was different, our confrontations were more direct and straightforward. Although, it felt like he wasn’t too involved, and that it was my mother who called the shots at home; I felt unprotected. My mother yelled at me a lot when there were no people around. She did embroidery at home, and on many occasions when I asked her to take me to the garden, and she couldn’t due to her work, she would slap me so I would shut up and stop insisting. Such scenes repeated numerous times, and I couldn’t comprehend why sometimes they praised me, laughed with

me, told me how funny I was, while other times, for no apparent reason, I would receive slaps, shouts, and furious glares. To the outside world, I was the model daughter, earning people’s affection with my kindness, warmth, and constant readiness to help everyone, often allowing others to take advantage of my excessive tolerance. But at home, it was a different story; there, I was rebellion personified.

The Sexual 3 has a hard time opening up about their experiences. Shame serves as a barrier, making it difficult for them to access and then articulate their painful memories. Instead, they bury them, planting a sense of emptiness and a history that feels lacking.

The important thing is to be faultless, and the fear of acknowledging and feeling these experiences disrupts the connection between what they’ve been through and their ability to talk about it. This can result in confusion, leaving a blank space that they sometimes fill with fantasies to make sense of their past.

Repressed instincts and shame surrounding their needs make them feel ashamed of their very existence. They believe that when their instincts surface, they become tainted and flawed. All of this must remain hidden, unable to be expressed freely:

When I was nine years old and in school during an exam, I knew it was forbidden to use the bathroom at that time. My fear of needing to urinate grew, but I couldn’t pluck up the courage to ask the teacher for permission. My heart raced, and my body felt paralyzed and unresponsive. I ended up peeing in my chair but couldn’t bring myself to confess it to anyone. It was a moment of tremendous shame, and I kept it to myself. I felt as though everyone was watching me, yet no one spoke to me, and I felt completely alone. After many days of fear, sleepless nights, and a reluctance to attend school, I finally mustered up the courage to confess the incident to my mother, and it provided a sense of relief. I experienced similar situations of hiding something dirty or shameful. Additionally, a moment of sexual play with my cousins felt like an inexpressible sin, leaving me with a feeling of being dirty and tainted.

The Sexual 3 woman possesses a combination of fragility and strength that can be surprisingly paradoxical. She is very feminine and sweet, but competes with strength, something she developed during childhood in response to her male siblings and father:

I envied the freedom and privileges enjoyed by my three older male siblings. I had a lot of energy but had to submit to my brothers, which was encouraged by my mother. I felt oppressed by the older ones. I believe this envy of my brothers motivated a competitiveness that I recognize in my interactions with men to this day. In my relationships

with the opposite sex, I consistently adopt a more defiant attitude, even though I acknowledge some level of dependence on my partner. For a long time, I’ve concealed my feelings and needs in my marital relationship, so as not to show weakness or vulnerability.

In general, individuals of this subtype often didn’t feel good about their appearance, so they constantly try to improve it or look better to feel secure.

My appearance was never praised in childhood; quite the opposite. Inside me, there was always a freckled and ugly girl, often subjected to criticism, who wanted to be respected and accepted by the family. I can’t recall my mother ever bolstering my self-esteem or offering any words of praise. The family environment wasn’t nurturing or supportive enough. I felt alone and unprotected, at the mercy of everyone’s scrutiny and criticism. No one cared much about my well-being. My efforts to maintain physical attractiveness weren’t only driven by the desire to attract attention or seduce; they almost felt like a necessity for survival and validation. One of my fondest memories of my mother involved sitting beside her as we pored over fashion magazines while she sewed. I was so happy, and felt so loved when she made new outfits for me.

If knowledge is valued in the family, the Sexual 3 tends to embrace and identify with these values, often striving for academic growth to prove their worthiness and seek love. For many, education becomes a sanctuary, offering solace from family tension and the pervasive sense of loneliness.

One defining moment was when I overheard my parents admiring my brother’s schoolwork. I vividly remember how I felt at a disadvantage. I also wanted to be the object of my parents’ admiration, and I understood that for that to happen, I had to learn to read and write. From that day on, I relentlessly pushed to start school. Even though I wasn’t yet of age for formal enrollment, I didn’t rest until my mother secured a special enrollment for me.

To cope with distress or anxiety in tense situations, they often employ denial to paint a rosy picture of their family, or they resort to fantasy, play, or even lies to escape from an uncomfortable environment. Many Sexual 3s, prior to embarking on a journey of self-discovery, tend to portray their childhood and family as perfect, free of shadows, sometimes even forgetting specific events. This self-deception can go to the extent of believing that this idealized version was their lived reality. It is very difficult for individuals of this character to open the doors to their own history, and gain self-awareness. When they finally do, they confront experiences of suffering, various forms of abuse, physical mistreatment, humiliating behavior, and psychological torment. For women, the facades of the martyr mother and overly affectionate father are discarded, revealing a different truth.

As for men, images of the enigmatic, seductive mother, too closely attached to her son, and the competitive, authoritarian father are exposed.

Initially, I clung to the ideal image I had constructed of my family. One day, when I was in line to get my identity card (I was fourteen years old), I started talking to an older man. I found myself talking about my family in a way that I had never done before. I presented them as the perfect family: always attentive to my needs, understanding, loving, supportive of my decisions, etc., etc. I don’t know how many other things I told him, but his response was that he would love to have a daughter who spoke of him like that. I think that’s what solidified for me that this image was both well-received and successful. With it, I won over older people, and earned the envy of those my age. Clinging to it made me feel less lonely and anxious; it seemed to give me a sense of identity.

When I was thirteen years old, my mom couldn’t afford to pay for my dance classes, so I sold candy at school to earn money to cover the costs. I felt embarrassed at the thought of others discovering the chaos and financial struggles in my family, so I pretended in front of the other kids that selling was just a game for me, not a necessity. At the same time, I worried that they might see through me, realize that I was a liar, that I wasn’t as I appeared or as happy as I seemed, because then they might stay away from me. I would hide the dark aspects, thinking that all the other families were happy and had no problems. I only showed what was socially accepted.