Passion In The Sphere Of Instinct: How Envy Works In The Social Subtype

The Social 4 has a smoother and softer attitude than the Self-Preservation and Sexual 4. He usually has a slim build, with his back slightly hunched forward and his shoulders drawn in, as if trying to make himself smaller. His body expresses a desire to remain unseen and to hide from others. By internalizing his anger, he tends to close his chest forward. The face of an E4 is marked—this is a characteristic of this type—but his gaze is languid, ostentatious, pleading, and sweet. In his interactions with the outside world, he reveals both his tenderness and his suffering, hoping to elicit kindness and compassion from others.

When Claudio invited me to say something about myself during my first SAT, he compared me to Bambi—the Disney character—because of my languid and fearful appearance. This image was a revelation to me. I realized that my body and attitude were deeply connected to my desire to inspire love and gentleness, as a way to avoid punishment or rejection. —Chiara F.

When the social instinct experiences envy, it turns inward, manifesting as self-hatred and self-devaluation. The Social 4 continuously compares himself to others, leading to a persistent sense of inadequacy, particularly in relation to the group he belongs to or aspires to be part of. Like all E4s, he has a tendency to measure himself against others, but he always perceives himself as falling short. This often results in a harsh, punitive, and contemptuous attitude toward himself. His focus is directed outward, constantly observing what he lacks in comparison to others.

During my first month of life, my sister was conceived. I believe this circumstance prematurely disrupted the breastfeeding phase and my bond with my mother, as I sensed that a part of her was no longer mine. Her birth only made things worse. Shortly after she was born, she developed severe pneumonia, which completely consumed my mother's attention and energy. I felt utterly alone and abandoned, as if I no longer mattered.

An image has haunted me throughout my life: I see myself standing on the threshold of the bedroom, neither inside nor outside, motionless, leaning against the doorframe. No one notices me. My mother is entirely focused on my sister, bending over her, as if they were a

single entity. That overwhelming affection—an entire world—excluded me, and the more I watched them, the more I felt my body grow disproportionately, like an inflated rubber puppet, voiceless, a giant that no one saw or heard. I couldn't do anything, not even make a noise for her to notice me—I just became eyes. —Rose C.

The passion of envy manifests differently in the social subtype compared to the other two. Initially, it is very difficult for this type to recognize envy in himself, not only because he sees it as a deplorable and negative emotion, but also because, unlike the Self-Preservation subtype—who tenaciously clings to the feeling of lack—or the sexual subtype—who instinctively pursues what he desires—the social subtype transforms envy into false admiration. The other becomes an ideal, a model to emulate, but always with the conviction that he will never measure up.

This duality extends to his relationships. While he easily idealizes others, he just as easily devalues them. Paradoxically, devaluation occurs precisely when he gets what he desires. The moment he achieves his coveted goal, it loses its charm, its appeal, and its importance—despite previously seeming like his only source of happiness. This mechanism is linked to a neurotic need to maintain a sense of longing for something unattainable. It also stems from his low self-worth, which he projects onto those who show love or admiration toward him. "If he loves someone like me, there must be something wrong with him—otherwise, he would aspire to be someone better," he thinks, though this thought is ambivalently accompanied by a deep longing to be loved unconditionally.

This sense of lack—this endless pursuit of goals that immediately lose meaning once achieved—has also been the driving force behind many of my accomplishments. I have always felt that "it's never enough." With the persistence of my secondary Self-Preservation subtype, I have pursued and achieved many things: I graduated in Educational Sciences, became a teaching assistant, completed a master's degree, and earned a bachelor's in psychology. Yet, I never felt competent enough in my profession. For years, I searched externally for the security I could not find within myself.

Few people know the extent of my efforts because I still feel ashamed to acknowledge my achievements. That ever-present voice of self-devaluation immediately takes over, telling me that with all these qualifications, anyone else would have built a more fulfilling and better-paid career. —Giulia C.

If I look at what I have done, the list is long. I also recognize that I manage to focus and be effective in my work, yet the feeling of "not being enough" remains. I always feel as if I know nothing, and I feed this feeling by staying messy and disorganized—going a little over the top, taking on too much! For example, I always read two, three, or even more books at the same time! It almost amazes me when I receive grateful comments from my patients, who love my work! I mean, the success was theirs. I have great difficulty accepting

recognition and credit. I don't know if it's envy, but when others take credit for their work, I feel disgusted—it seems shameless to me. —Marina P.

When I finished high school, I enrolled in the Faculty of Architecture—a decision that came almost by chance. Since I wanted to combine my aptitude for mathematics and scientific subjects with my desire for humanistic knowledge, it felt like an "everything" for me. I must say I had no major difficulties. I graduated within the curriculum deadlines; everything was planned and easy to follow. Of course, there was also fatigue and moments of bewilderment when I doubted my abilities, especially in the absence of a guiding example. But at the same time, I was able to achieve success through my education.

The real problem came later—the discomfort of carrying out commissions and meeting others’ requests, even though they were paying me. I found myself in crisis during the design phase, in my ideation and creation. Every time, I had the feeling of putting my hands into an empty sack, afraid I wouldn’t find anything inside. The effort became overwhelming, leading to exhaustion. I needed discussion and companionship. I pursued lifelong training in various specialization schools to expand my knowledge and skills in different fields. Through therapy, I wanted to learn more, so I became a counselor—but it was never enough. After all, this was what I felt I did best: filling the void. —Rose C.

The emptiness and the feeling of uselessness are fueled by the constant search for and comparison with new or foreign things and situations ("I have to learn," "I am never enough") instead of appreciating what one has and recognizing one's own worth. The external gaze replaces the internal gaze.

I have always taken on great responsibilities—leading teams, introducing innovative quality programs in educational centers, managing conflicts, and organizing and directing training sessions for hundreds of teachers. The commitment I put in was always beyond my limits, an endless challenge. Despite receiving accolades, success, and many recognitions, my internal state of inadequacy never changed. I still felt like I wasn’t measuring up, haunted by the same unacknowledged suffering that had devastated me in childhood. —Valter M.

Desire and longing, as well as aspiration, are powerful emotions that drive people. The passionate motivation that sustains him is envy and suffering—the pain of not having what he wants and sees in others.

The Social 4 craves love and invests immense energy in being recognized, in belonging, in having a place in the group, in feeling important. Paradoxically, they are often solitary, quiet, and docile. They prefer to hide and avoid being the center of attention, yet they suffer and feel nonexistent if they are ignored. They don’t want to be in the spotlight because it frightens them, and they feel inadequate. At the same time, they desperately want to be

seen—to be discovered in their invisibility. However, when they are seen, they feel deeply flawed, inadequate, or even "dirty," which brings discomfort and shame.

I remember during a SAT course, early in my journey, Claudio asked me to stand up and speak. For a moment, I felt immense embarrassment and couldn't look at the group. He asked me what I was ashamed of, and I told him I felt as if others could see inside me. "What do you see?" Claudio asked again. I was afraid they would see that I was not a nice, meek, and clean person. I felt deeply dirty. —Chiara F.

The Social 4 has a constant need for recognition—not just from their group but also from outsiders. "If they recognize me, I am worthy." They see and define themselves based on how the world perceives them. In the social subtype of envy, there is constant emotional engagement with feelings of lack and the desire to fill a void. They live in an incessant state of believing that only the external world can fulfill them and restore their sense of personal worth. It is as if a part of them is still waiting for the maternal love they lacked in childhood—only the object of their desire has changed, while the idealization of the other remains. They expect something external to bring satisfaction, to fill the emptiness, to finally make them happy.

The Social 4 has little autonomy and, not feeling worthy of directly asking for help, instead expresses their needs through lamentation—never explicitly, but through tears, sweetness, irony, and even by blaming others, especially when they feel angered or disappointed by unmet expectations.

They possess strong emotionality and a pronounced capacity for empathy, yet their emotions arise as reflections of the external world. It is as if their feelings and behaviors cannot be separated from what surrounds them. Empathy becomes the channel through which they allow themselves to experience their emotions more fully, feeding that emotional part that makes them feel alive and less alone.

In their family environment, they learned to behave in ways that would not disturb, irritate, or provoke punishment from their mother. In doing so, they neglected their own needs, never learning to listen to them, express them, or trust that they could be fulfilled—perhaps something they never truly experienced.

I feel a strong predisposition to isolate myself, to avoid groups, especially during moments of celebration and lightheartedness. Fear always takes over when I should be enjoying myself with others. I dread feeling invaded or forced to engage in trivial conversations, to show off, to lose my individuality. All of this leaves me with a sense of self-exclusion, of not measuring up, of ultimately giving up on meeting my true needs. —Valter M.

Even in childhood, the Social 4 harbored the illusion that they could "save" the people around them, even those who hurt and humiliated them. They believed that by saving others—by giving them a chance at redemption—they could also save themselves. They identified so deeply with others that they projected their own need for salvation onto them, as if they wanted to "consume" their loved ones.

The fundamental need to satisfy the "hunger for mother"—and the impossibility of doing so—led the Social 4 child to develop deep-seated anger toward their mother. Yet, they could not allow themselves to express it, as they needed her and depended on her. Instead, they swallowed their rage, internalizing it as a way to maintain the illusion of having her. "Since I can't have you, I will become you—so I can possess you and hate you at the same time."

The Social 4 develops a relationship with themselves that mirrors the one they experienced with their mother. If she spoke to them with contempt, they learned to speak to themselves with contempt. If she was irritated by their laughter and playfulness, they learned to repress those impulses. If she constantly told them, "You do everything wrong, you're useless," they internalized those words, repeating them like a mantra and fully believing them.

Thus, they "incorporate" the "bad mother," carrying her inside them, unable to bear the pain of never having had an ideal, loving mother. Their disappointment and frustration turn inward. Even the hatred they should naturally feel toward her is directed at themselves. It is as if, by swallowing their mother, they can hate her through the self-loathing they now carry within.

I am the first of three children, the eldest, with a brief and fleeting "singularity." In the same year, ten months later, my sister was born. With her birth (or perhaps even during her gestation), I lost my "paradise" and became "the eldest" from the very beginning. I remember a dream I had during therapeutic work:

"I was little, barely a month old. I was lying in my crib, waiting for my parents to return from a party. After a while, they arrived, intoxicated with joy, happy. As soon as they entered, I was certain of my sister’s conception. I felt that my mother could no longer feed me, and suddenly, she became a murderer whom I had to be wary of."

This feeling was so vivid that I spent the entire night curled up next to my roommate’s bed, convinced that someone behind the door was trying to kill me. With the birth of my sister, the brief privilege I had experienced until then disappeared completely. She was demanding, attention-seeking, and arrogant, able to monopolize all the attention, and I felt invisible.

After a while, my brother was born as well. They told me that at first, I was a happy and communicative girl, with a great love for music and dancing, but little by little, I lost that joy. I remember that my siblings played a lot together; there was a strong bond between them. Their self-confidence and enthusiasm for having fun caught my attention—I saw them as pure and innocent. I participated little, felt excluded, and different, as if I had been forgotten. I was like a spectator at the window of family events, waiting for something to change. —Rose C.

The Social 4 has internalized the negative and devaluing gaze of the mother and interpreted it as a lack of love. Because of this, they have convinced themselves that they are what the adult made them feel they were, and their deep wound is that of not being important. With these characteristics and an indistinct fear of the world, of life, of things, and of people, it is clear that the E4 individual finds it very difficult to assert themselves, to experiment, to savor what life offers, and to throw themselves into experiences. Their most spontaneous reaction is to withdraw from the world, shut themselves away, and isolate. Their need for others in order to live is extreme.

As a child, I realized very early on that I had to fend for myself and that I couldn't explicitly ask for help, since there was always someone in the family who had bigger and more important problems—emotional or material—than mine. Thus, I began to underestimate and hide my needs from my mother, eventually hiding them from myself as well, until I could no longer recognize them. The emptiness I felt as a child became an existential void. —Giulia C.

Sometimes, in childhood, they have witnessed the social ascent of a family member and, therefore, fight an inner battle against upward mobility, attempting to expose the neurosis of success and their own emotional abandonment—perhaps due to a father's obsession with achievement, as if trying to be as important as the outside world that so captivated the mother or father.

Other times, we encounter a family weighed down by the shame of failure or guilt, and the child assumes the burden of not feeling worthy of their social environment. This personality is shaped by the need to be seen—a need that self-sabotages due to the fear of not succeeding. It is precisely this self-sabotage that becomes a way to continue aspiring without truly facing limits or real failure. In the same way, the frustration or pain of not succeeding becomes a weapon to express anger toward those who fail to take care of their suffering.

If I achieve social success, if I do something that pleases my mother (a Social E3) and brings her satisfaction, then I refuse to do it. To get revenge, I am ready to destroy myself and self-sabotage. —Giulia C.

When what they experience is very unpleasant or painful, they spend their time waiting for redemption from the "enemy" who causes them so much suffering. They do not leave, they do not run away, they do not save themselves—but instead, they wait, as they always have since childhood, for the other person to notice them, to see their pain, to finally acknowledge them and love them.

The Social 4 grows up with a painful ambivalence: the person who should have loved them, who should have taken care of them, is the one who made them suffer the most, the one who wounded them, and the one from whom they must defend themselves. This ambivalence remains ever-present in the life of the Social 4.

With such ambivalent parental figures, they experience happiness as being tied to others—to the feelings they can inspire in those around them, to their presence, to their closeness—factors that are essential to endure the painful sensation of inner loneliness.

Although the Social 4 has an enormous need for attention, they do not ask for it directly. They wait for it, even though it is their right. They fear being a burden to others and, consequently, losing them. They fear realizing that they are a nuisance and, as a result, can become difficult for others—difficult to understand, difficult to satisfy. They always wait for others’ timing, others’ moments. They believe they are not important enough for someone to spend valuable time on. And so, they interpret this as confirmation that they are not worthy enough.

Unlike the Self-Preservation 4, who gains attention through detachment and persistence in doing things alone, the Social 4 seeks to obtain what they need through complaining, suffering, illness—all aspects that express their lack and might prompt others to come closer and fill their void. It is as if they were pleading:

"Give me, please. Can't you see how I suffer? Can't you see how much it hurts?"

Alongside their feelings of inner fragility and their inability or unwillingness to ask directly, they may also develop a deep shame regarding the effect they have on others. They may feel embarrassed when someone pities them. They may be ashamed of their own vulnerability, of feeling unable to provide for and take care of themselves, and of their dependence on others. They may experience a profound sense of shame when others "see" them and realize how helpless they are.

Sometimes, illness—and its subsequent instrumentalization—revives in the Social 4 the hope of finally receiving the loving gaze they have longed for all their lives. Illness can, for

E4s in general, become a way to gain attention from those they see as important and to feel loved.

I remember that when I found out I had cancer, I thought my mother would finally notice me, that she would acknowledge my existence—that in addition to her youngest son, she would realize she also had a daughter. To awaken, she had to lose the daughter she had never truly seen.

Nothing seemed to faze or concern her. Once, during a trip to Africa, I contracted cerebral malaria. An early diagnosis saved my life. When I got home, I only needed a follow-up exam. I didn’t know how to tell my mother—I was afraid of her reaction, since it was something very serious. Instead, she not only dismissed it but even laughed about it. I remember that, on that occasion, both my ex-husband and I were shocked. —Alichita R.

Illness can serve as an opportunity to break free from impotence and the inability to act, to avoid abandonment, or to keep the other person tethered. It can be a real loophole, a means of avoiding the worst: separation, anger, and emotional distance. Faced with the subject's fragility and state of need, the other person often has no choice but to lay down their weapons or intentions and retrace their steps. At other times, illness becomes a channel for expressing anger, a form of mystified revenge, a punishment that appeals to the feeling of guilt. In some contexts, illness can also serve as a convincing excuse to say "no" to uncomfortable or overly demanding requests. —Alichita R.

I had a very difficult few years emotionally and practically, taking care of a father with dementia. Being the only one of three children who was single and without children, there was a family mandate for me to take care of my father, who was losing his autonomy every day. There was a strong ambivalence; I wanted to take care of him, but at the same time, I struggled with an inner voice that told me I couldn't sacrifice my life in this way (I had already done that for my mother, who had passed away about ten years before, after battling cancer for twenty years).

At one point, my back seized up. For a week, I was in bed, unable to get up, needing injections and painkillers. I think it was my way of saying, "I can't do this anymore." —Giulia C.

When you're given a task, you can give yourself completely. At first, you are assailed by discouragement and panic: "Can I really do this? It's so difficult. Am I up for it? What will people think of me?"

The first thought is to give up, fearing it will be a disaster. An exhausting internal struggle begins, warning others of your lack of capacity, but eventually, the desire to participate, belong, and meet others' expectations prevails. After a series of self-reproaches, you try to

push through and do the best job possible. However, once you've completed the task and checked that it was done well, you downplay any praise. Compliments embarrass you, and you feel like you "stole" them. Before praise, you experience bad faith, never feeling truly satisfied with the result. "You've only done the least part of your duty," or "Oddly enough, this worked out, but it won't help with anything else." You constantly forget repeated successes, continually demolishing and injuring yourself. You fixate on "neutral situations," which you view as failures that never leave you. Your memory effortlessly retains moments of failure while erasing moments of achievement, and you let compliments pass by, always finding a reason to devalue or downplay them.

When I was in college, I remember often getting good grades. But when I got a 'thirty' on my notebook, I wasn't overjoyed. It didn't even seem possible that I had done well. As soon as the teacher turned his back and walked down the stairs, I convinced myself that I had done well because the teacher was in a good mood that day, or the test was easy, or I had asked myself the questions I was most prepared for. In short, at the bottom of the stairs, there was no trace of the intense joy I should have felt. —Alichita R.

From early childhood, the child develops the idea that pleasure is punished or paid for later with pain. The Social 4 child does not allow themselves to enjoy pleasure because they fear the pain that will follow: the pain of discovering that the pleasure wasn't real or that it won't last. They also struggle with the belief that enduring suffering might grant them attention. Thus, they enter into a vicious existential cycle: suffering is the only way to receive what will make them happy, but if they don't suffer, they can't expect to be given what they need.

I distinctly remember the atmosphere in my house when I was a child. There was no room for enjoyment; survival was the primary focus. Entertainment was forbidden, and working on Sundays was even more demanding. We never watched a movie, took a trip, or had a vacation. If I smiled when I looked into my mother's eyes, she would immediately stop me: "Why are you laughing? Don't you know that something terrible could happen tomorrow?" —Valter M.

The angry rejection toward the mother is often directed at food, which, in a sense, becomes the child's unspoken protest. Food, nourishment, the very essence of life, transforms into a real torture for them.

I couldn't eat much; there were very few things I liked, not even pizza! I couldn't force myself to eat certain things, which led to conflicts, as my mother had a sweet tooth. I changed my tastes when I got pregnant. —Marine P.

Eating becomes an obligation. The morsels pile up in the mouth, forming a big "ball" that cannot be swallowed. This often triggers anxiety in the mother, who tries to force the child

to eat, gets angry, and punishes them. What was once a source of pleasure — food being one of life's greatest joys — becomes torment. In the end, it becomes the only weapon left to fight against the mother, to return the hatred felt toward her, and to force her to give some of her time and attention. It's possible to view an eating disorder as a relentless sadistic attack on one's own body. For those suffering from this disorder, the body represents the conflict with the mother, with femininity itself, and with sexuality. The Social 4 often experiences an ambivalent relationship with food, which symbolizes the bond between the self and the internalized mother figure. Through symptoms like anorexia or bulimia, people with this character express their struggle to overcome dependency and become "adults," while still holding onto the illusion of protection provided by the omnipotent primary relationship. The physiological anguish triggered by growth leads to regression, where food — desired, rejected, vomited, idealized — becomes a sign of the conflict between the illusion of self-mastery and pathological dependence.

Often, the issue with food resurfaces in adulthood, especially when a relationship is coming to an end. In such circumstances, the subject may lose almost all appetite and find it difficult to eat. It’s as though, through food, they regress emotionally in a time of intense pain.

Whenever a relationship ended, my hunger disappeared. My emotions filled everything, and I always felt full. The body's needs were crushed and forgotten by the overwhelming emotionality. I felt strong from that emotion, alive, even though my body disappeared. —Chiara F.

Food represented the true relationship between my mother and all the family members: she, the cook, dispensed pleasure and love through her careful preparation of dishes. When I left home, I remember the neurotic obsession with running home to prepare food, as if I were in mortal danger of not being fed. The fridge was always packed, even though I was the only one living in my apartment. —Valter M.

Masochism/Self-Destruction

The Social 4 often carries a profound fear. They fear the unstable, unreliable, and sometimes dangerous environment they still perceive from their childhood. This fear makes them feel defenseless, as though they lack protection or boundaries. They feel as if they are without skin.

In the end, they create situations around them that inevitably lead to pain. Everything repeats as in childhood, where their parents caused more pain than comfort, and even their absence was painful. They feel like a dog chasing its tail.

Social 4 is the subtype where masochism is most pronounced. The paradox is that they harm or inflict physical pain on themselves to alleviate or lessen emotional pain, or sometimes even "seek pleasure" — or rather the feeling of existing, of making contact with themselves. Accustomed to their mother's punishments, they continue to inflict them. "I've let myself down, I'm ashamed of myself!" they say, and an anguish arises that won't let them live until they have punished themselves.

Clearly, the idealized self, having never satisfied the mother, is always too high to reach, so they constantly disappoint themselves, generating psychological suffering or seeking physical pain, often in the form of borderline behaviors between pain and pleasure. In some extreme cases, this self-destructive tendency can even lead to suicide, seen as a final act of revenge on a world that ignored their needs, underestimated their suffering, and failed to acknowledge their talents.

There are people from the Social 4 subtype who have a tendency to consciously injure themselves. For example, some may cut their limbs and watch as the blood flows. This release, akin to bloodletting, frees them from the anguish, the ugliness they carry within, and their guilt: "Here is the 'evil' that comes out of me; now I am free!" Others may indulge in overeating, consuming large quantities and varieties of food without giving the body time to signal satiety. They only stop when it’s too late, when the sensation of fullness turns into nausea and vomiting, leading to intoxication, loss of senses, and physical collapse.

The Blame

The guilt that accompanies them from childhood arises from the feeling of having made a mistake and, therefore, having hurt someone or disappointed their mother’s expectations, seeing themselves as a "mistake." This feeling is tied to their great empathy. In fact, they wouldn’t feel so guilty if they didn’t perceive the emotions they stir in others, and they wouldn’t linger on it if the other person didn’t play such a crucial role in their existence.

Guilt is also tied to the concept of punishment. They expect to be punished and, above all, are convinced that they deserve it and can do nothing to avoid it. They suffer in silence and don't even try to exonerate themselves or explain their actions. It’s as though they have surrendered to the adult, completely defenseless. The feeling of guilt affects their ability to judge and leads them to overestimate the consequences of their actions.

Dependence on the Other

The Social 4 subtype clings to the people they love, living in fear of loss, abandonment, or death. They feel that without these individuals, they themselves will die, convinced that they do not have the necessary resources to succeed in life on their own. They rely on others more than on themselves and value others more than themselves. However, this eventually leads them into an abyss where even others lose their value and meaning—a place of impotence that surrounds both them and the rest of the world.

The real tragedy for them occurs when life forces them to experience loss. It is then that the pain becomes unbearable, as if they are dying. They feel emotional, psychological, and physical pain, as though part of them is missing. They feel devastated and believe they cannot live without their loved one, who had accompanied and protected them in life (more in an idealized fantasy than in reality). Life itself loses meaning. There is emptiness from the loss of the loved one, and there is emptiness from the loss of someone they yearn for but hate for not meeting their expectations. Often, death confronts them not only with their love but also with their repressed hate. However, this could be a great opportunity for growth, as such excruciating pain might lead them to autonomy and the realization that they can survive on their own. They may discover that, not only can they endure without dying, but they can also live fully, make decisions, live for themselves, and dedicate themselves to listening and caring for others. They may realize, when the fundamental bond is broken, what freedom truly means. As long as they remain under the wing of others out of fear, they will never know what it truly means to live.

Personal Reflections

Until I was six years old, of school age, I felt segregated. My world was family and home. My parents worked, and every time they left, I would cry silently between the songs of our nanny and the laughter and games of my brothers, who were always united and complicit. For me, it was abandonment every time. But even more dramatic was the fear that they would die. I controlled them when they fought, believing they could hurt each other, and I acted as a witness. I remember looking with a mix of terror and compassion at a boy in my class who had lost his mother. I obsessed over how he could survive, keeping him at a distance and distancing myself from the discomfort his situation caused me. I imagined him in a dark and cold house with nothing, praying to all the gods, hoping that it would never happen to me, because the idea was unbearable. — Rose C

As a child, I was deeply distressed by the thought that my mother might die. She, who had lost her own mother at the age of two, often repeated to me: "I too, like my mother, will die when I turn thirty-two." I felt terror inside me and prayed with all my heart to the Lord,

asking him to let me die instead of her because I could not survive the pain of losing her. — Walter M

Fear of Abandonment

The fear of abandonment affects many areas of the Social 4’s life, taking away their freedom and spontaneity. Unable to express their own point of view for fear of being punished or abandoned, when faced with a difference of opinion, they tend to adopt the role of the victim. This justifies their acceptance of options that are not their own. They avoid conflict but still blame others: "You must think for me, even if I don’t." They try to resolve their sense of inadequacy by making others feel inadequate and guilty. What they cannot do for themselves, they project onto others. They know how to defend others, even feeling an impulse to protect those who are subjected to what they consider unfair. However, when they find themselves in similar situations, they don’t even consider that they are affected personally. Deep down, they don't feel they deserve to be defended, nor do they feel strong enough to sustain their own reasons.

The typical sensitivity of the Social 4 and their empathy for the pain of others is the mechanism by which they unconsciously deal with their own wounds. They tend to withdraw, not feeling strong enough to defend themselves or trusting that anyone will truly protect them. They cannot perceive anger as healthy vital energy, which prevents them from living spontaneously, following their instincts, or diving into the flow of life. They rarely allow themselves to take advantage of situations or derive pleasure from them. Expressing anger means confronting repressed hate and acknowledging their own "destructiveness."

The Social 4 unconsciously chooses to preserve their "inner emptiness" as it is. They don’t know how to be alone with their emptiness, which feels suffocating and destructive. "If mom didn’t love me, why should I love myself?" They cannot access adult resources. This happens because they never gave up on the attention they lacked as children and continue living with the expectation that, sooner or later, it will be offered to them—perhaps by a prince who will rescue them. Just as they did with their mother in childhood, blaming themselves for not being loved and believing they were the cause of their abandonment, as adults they often prefer to run away with the enemy. In other words, they may accept being devalued or mistreated, as long as they don’t lose the other. Fantasy helps sustain this illusion, offering hope that, eventually, things will change and the other will recognize their worth and love them. Sustained by these thoughts, they can endure frustrating relationships for years.