Love

In the E4, the search for love is essential, a longing for love as salvation. It is not so much an active search, as in the Sexual 4, since the Self-Preservation 4 represses his desires more; he does not show them, instead doing so indirectly, hoping the other will desire him. This gives him more security. His effort is actually directed more toward work than love, using it as a means of obtaining recognition. The Self-Preservation 4 can spend a long time yearning, fantasizing, and dreaming of the partner who will arrive and give him what he was never given.

According to Karen Horney, the neurotic feels and behaves as if his entire existence, happiness, and security depend on being appreciated and loved. It raises the question: Is the desire for love driven by the pleasure of the relationship or by the need for security to avoid anguish? In the Self-Preservation 4, both elements exist, though at first, he seeks emotional safety (that the other listens, understands, and does not judge him) rather than material security (since his efforts allow him to provide for himself). Over time, he discovers the importance of pleasure in relationships.

The Self-Preservation 4 engage in a compulsive search for love, believing that by finding someone who will compensate for his feelings of being unseen and misunderstood, he will resolve his dissatisfaction with life.

I remember that as a child, my favorite story was Cinderella. This fantasy about Prince Charming continued into my adolescence. I spent hours fantasizing, imagining how my life would change when he found me, how he would save me from all my suffering, and how he would see me as special—something no one else had seen. He would transform me into a new woman. I would always be happy and finally receive the love I had not been given.

In this sense, Hugo Bleichmar explains that the object of attachment can contribute to the psychic regulation of the subject, diminishing their anguish, organizing their mind, counteracting the fear of fragmentation, and providing a sense of vitality and enthusiasm. The feeling of emptiness, boredom, and devitalization in the absence of the object of attachment leads to a compulsive search for it.

The Tenacious E4 cares more about what he will receive from the other. He is not entirely available to the others unconsciously. From his experience of lack, there is a use and manipulation of the other to satisfy his needs. This search becomes eternal and frustrating because it remains an ideal that can never be realized in reality.

The Tenacious E4 wants the other to fill his sense of internal scarcity and lack. He seeks recognition and support that he is not capable of granting himself. Hence, he desires the absolute loving presence of his partner—to be the emotional center of his life, ensuring that he is loved. But the other will never fully satisfy him; he cannot provide the recognition he craves, because the conflict is internal. The other is an adult with their own needs, which the Tenacious E4 does not take into account. He believes the other is there to make up for his deficiencies, and inevitably, frustration ensues.

H. Bleichmar asserts that we seek privacy because it validates our mental state. We confirm our existence through our feelings, perceptions, and thoughts, as others recognize what we are, feel, and think. The feeling of being subjects is marked by the validation of our constitution from the other. As adults, we continue to require external validation of our feelings, thoughts, and actions. Once it is painfully realized that the other’s emotional state may differ from ours, the desire for mental reunion becomes the driving force of the psyche.

I always expect more from my partner. I have doubts, as if one day he will discover my deepest flaw and stop loving me. There are days when I live in fear that another, more intelligent or beautiful woman will appear and he will leave me. For this reason, I constantly doubt whether he loves me, even when he shows me proof. Other times, I ask him why he is with me, why he chose me when there are better women in the world. Consequently, any forgetfulness or small signs of carelessness are interpreted as proof that

he does not care about me, that he has forgotten I exist—evidence of profound lack of love. For instance, if I agree to call him at a certain time, and he does not pick up the phone because he’s out of coverage or unaware of the time, I experience that situation as a great abandonment. I don’t understand how it could happen; I would have been more attentive, and something must be wrong in the relationship.

This disregard of the other in response to a small failure arises from the experience of reality, such as the absence of a phone call at the expected moment, which awakens immense anguish. It echoes a past experience of abandonment, coloring the situation with catastrophic meaning and making it difficult to relativize over time. This lack of empathy is not simply a result of a demanding attitude, but of original anguish that he does not know how to handle emotionally, as it disorganizes him at a core level.

Hyper-sensitivity emerges, and any failure to meet his desires or expectations feels like rejection, which can quickly turn his feelings of love into anger. Since he cannot rationally relativize the situation, a narcissistic wound occurs: the other does not love him as expected, and he retreats to protect himself from the pain, adopting a more primitive defense mechanism: “I don’t need you.” It is also a proud retreat. Faced with pain or the fear of abandonment, he says that he can do it alone, that he doesn’t need the other.

Another aspect of his affective demand is that the other covers his emptiness. When this does not happen, he blames them for his unhappiness, feeling that what they give him is insufficient. The Tenacious E4 does not directly demand from the other, but rather demands of himself to deserve love. He may blame himself for not being loved and strive to be better. He is self-complacent, excessively sacrificing to obtain what he expects and growing resentful when he does not receive it. He expects the other to guess his needs without directly asking for them, as his taboo is to show dependence. Pleasing the other ensures that they will not abandon him.

Envy also emerges in relationships when comparing how much he gives to others versus what he receives. He reproaches the other for enjoying life more and making less effort, often followed by anger when the partner enjoys the company of others. The Tenacious E4 can make the other feel guilty, tyrannizing them to get what he wants. At times, he presents himself as the one who suffers the most, and other times as someone omnipotent, disregarding the other’s feelings. He strives to hide his deep weakness—his emotional dependence—behind a façade of apparent strength.

Additionally, he struggles to live in the moment and enjoy pleasure, allowing himself to relax only occasionally. He remains vigilant, worried that something bad might happen or that he will lose the other. He must always be alert, which prevents him from relaxing, trusting, or enjoying life. On one hand, he tends to focus on what is missing or what is

wrong, making it impossible to let go. This mindset often leads to an exaggerated sense of intensity or suffering, as if everything must be done with extreme effort.

The Tenacious E4 constantly fears that the other will discover his flaws and leave. As a result, he experiences relationships with fear, submission, and a sense of persecution, making it difficult for him to enjoy what is pleasurable.

It is characteristic of this trait that once love is achieved, it is devalued. He questions whether that love is genuine, whether the person is the right one, and if he could achieve something better. He continues to dream of the ideal. When someone loves the Tenacious E4, he invalidates it because it doesn’t meet his ideal. He has an unrealistic standard of how the other should be, and in daily life, he disqualifies them, focusing on what they lack. This leads to an internal conflict about whether to continue the relationship with someone who no longer meets his expectations.

I remember asking my friends as a young girl how they could be sure they were with the right person. I wanted to know how to have that confirmation, how they could be sure there would never be someone better. I wondered if choosing meant giving up other possibilities. This reflects the chronic dissatisfaction Claudio describes: if I limit my aspirations, I will have very little, always fantasizing about greater satisfaction.

At times, criticizing the external object deprives the subject of private pleasure, because it distorts their perception of the one from whom something is expected. M. Klein explains that these internal conditions prevent the subject from using the external object for their own development, such as the confirmation of their existence and their experiences.

If we have accumulated anger and guilt, it will influence our future relationships. It's as if we’ve learned that love has two faces: love and rejection. This dynamic is then repeated. In my case, I tend not to express anger, except in romantic relationships, where I unconsciously repeat the maternal pattern of disqualifying the other. This is further compounded by counter-dependence—I need to feel self-sufficient and capable of managing on my own. I don’t allow myself to be dependent on others due to a distrust that what they offer me may not be good, or that their love might harm me.

Another difficulty for the tenacious E4 is receiving and accepting affection, since they are convinced that no one will ever love them as they need. They maintain a certain internal resentment because they feel they weren’t loved in the way they needed. This results in projecting their distrust onto others—they suspect that others won’t value them, take them into account, or show affection. There’s a deep distrust of receiving and accepting love, coupled with a firm refusal to depend on others.

Sometimes I feel as though I'm desperately chasing affection, and when I finally receive it, it’s as if I can’t handle it, which leads to more anguish. One way I cope with this anguish is by provoking arguments, which reduce the space for love, allowing me to emotionally distance myself and relax. This pattern feels comfortable because it mirrors the relationship dynamic I experienced with my parents.

H. Bleichmar speaks about masochism and the modalities of establishing intimacy, noting that some people find pleasure in suffering "together with" another. In these cases, the pleasure of suffering stems from the shared experience, which allows one to feel a sense of intimacy. If this form of intimacy was learned from early relationships with parents or siblings, it may be unconsciously recreated in future relationships. The act of suffering together, though bittersweet, becomes a means of achieving a sense of unity and harmony with the other person. This shared suffering can become addictive, and as a result, the individual may unconsciously seek it out in future bonds.

In my case, I see suffering as pleasurable because it’s the way I experienced intimacy with my mother. It was the only space available for connection. Joy and my own needs were not allowed. I learned that suffering was the way to be with another, and I recognize that I have transferred this dynamic into my other relationships.

The Self-Preservation 4 may experience great anguish when someone offers them sincere love because it awakens their fear of dependence, denial, and submission. The thought of surrendering themselves to another brings up the fear of being left behind. They feel unworthy of love due to their low self-esteem and cannot fully trust others, often projecting their distrust onto them. On the other hand, when they receive too much affection, they feel trapped, as if caught in a spider’s web, which causes them anxiety. Many individuals struggle to accept pleasant things and don't know how to handle them. They fear commitment because it implies losing their individuality and becoming dependent on someone else.

According to K. Horney, the internal representation of encountering others can be laden with fear: fear of being invaded, overwhelmed, blamed, persecuted, punished, saddened, overexcited, or anxious, or being forced to do something they don’t want to do. These fears may arise from direct experiences with significant figures or from identifying with those figures, who may have modeled how to experience intimacy, or from the individual’s own fantasies.

There is a certain tension in intimacy, and one way to protect ourselves from it is through presence and distance. We tend to appreciate others more when they are distant, and we may despise them when they get too close. The ideal situation is to maintain a sufficient distance—not too far, so as not to lose the other, but not so close that we feel exposed. For example, when I went for therapeutic massage sessions with a loving, tender therapist who

reminded me of a mother, I couldn’t stand it. My fantasy was that, while receiving a back massage, she would suddenly stab me with a knife. The closeness and intimacy created tension for me.

As with many other issues, what is lacking is desired, and what is available is devalued. This is the core of dissatisfaction. The attraction lies in the distance, in what is impossible to achieve. The longing becomes the driving force, and true enjoyment is found in the yearning, not in the attainment. This creates a neurotic need for insatiable, voracious affection, and the demand for unconditional love. Since this love can never be fully realized, it leads to a state of melancholy, where moods are heightened.

This creates a sweet sadness—a nostalgic and evocative state for something that was once had but is no longer available. Intensity is longed for, and the mundane becomes boring. This is why the intensity is exaggerated, and there’s a tendency to look to the past, where what could have been was better than what is.

During stormy relationships, I would experience the full intensity of heartbreak and helplessness. This gave me the space to complain and feel unhappy, both in private and in conversations with friends. It’s hard to explain, but there was something comforting in those dramatic situations—the act of telling and venting about them, of feeling like the saddest person in the world, and having all other aspects of life colored by that melancholy. When I started to have a stable relationship, it seemed almost boring. I could only say that things were fine, but I longed for the intensity of complaints. I even questioned whether, without the previous turmoil, this could really be love. My parents’ relationship was always marked by disputes and instability, and I learned that satisfaction in a relationship often comes hand in hand with suffering.

The Self-Preservation 4, by idealizing suffering in their encounters with others, sometimes maintain tumultuous relationships—not out of a desire to suffer, but out of the fear of rupture and loss. They may also believe that if they endure and make an effort, everything will be okay. By doing so, they feel worthy, and others will take notice.