The Characteristic Neurotic Need: Possessiveness

When we speak of the core neurotic need of the sexual Enneatype 8, it is possessiveness. For this subtype, possession unfolds in two ways: the desire to possess the other and the desire to possess the scene—to dominate not only the relationship but the very space where it takes place. To possess is to make all eyes turn toward oneself.

To achieve this, they often master the art of seduction. Their charm lies in strength, in the way they command attention and magnetize others through sheer vitality. Like a child who must be seen at all costs, they make the spotlight theirs through rebellion, charisma, and defiance—declaring silently:

“Look at me. See how different I am. See how powerful I’ve become.”

Claudio Naranjo writes:

“The strength of the Enneatype 8 is that of a child who reacts aggressively to the father and ends up usurping his place of power.”

For the Sexual 8, that usurpation happens through possessing the father’s power—and with it, authority, dominance, and control.

Their passion for possessiveness doesn’t stop with people; it extends to entire environments. They must be the center of attention wherever they go. To achieve this, they present themselves as fascinating, embodying strength and magnetism. Compared to other

Eights, they are more seductive, more dramatic—like a peacock whose feathers gleam with emotional intensity.

But what does this possession feel like? To possess is to know everything about the other, to penetrate their thoughts and soul until they can be “entered.” It’s as if the Sexual 8 were a vampire of intimacy, feeding on the bond to feel alive. Once they have bitten, once fusion is achieved, they believe it to be eternal—a pact sealed in blood and loyalty, lasting even beyond death.

“I protect you, I take care of you, I make you the center of everything. In return, you give me absolute loyalty.”

This pact is rarely spoken but deeply felt. The partner may not even be aware of it, yet the Sexual 8 lives it as an unbreakable contract. Like the mythic vampire who offers immortality through union, the Eight offers safety and strength—while claiming the other’s loyalty as the price.

“For over 14 years, I was with the same partner. What gave me security was the conviction that I knew what she was thinking. I was sure our bond was so deep that I could feel her thoughts. I felt that I possessed her.” — Leonor

This possessiveness fuels intensity, the emotional fire that both defines and torments the Eight. It compensates for an ancient void—the absence of a parent’s unconditional love. In their mind, if they could not possess their father or mother’s affection, they will now possess their lover’s. What was once longing becomes conquest.

But behind every act of possession hides revenge. Their fixation—“You didn’t love me as I needed; now I’ll find someone who will”—drives them into endless repetition. They test, provoke, dominate, and burn those they most love, perpetuating the very wound they seek to escape.

Those who have worked through this pattern often realize, painfully, how much harm they have caused those they truly loved. They describe themselves as living volcanoes—explosive, passionate, and destructive. Their anger can appear as love, yet when it erupts, it scorches everything it touches.

Their low tolerance for frustration acts as the fuse. When relationships fail to meet their hunger for intensity and fulfillment, confrontation becomes inevitable. The Sexual 8 cannot endure half-measures. They will push their partner to the limit—fighting, seducing, demanding, until they feel alive again. In that fiery emotional climate, they feel at home. They swim in chaos like fish in lava, convinced that somewhere inside the struggle, truth will emerge.

This is the most emotional of all Eight subtypes, the one who burns from within. They live with an inner climate of molten warmth, mistaking emotional heat for love. Intensity becomes their substitute for tenderness, and passion their only proof that they are still alive.

Sex as a Form of Power

A constant theme is the association between sex and power — feeling powerful through open, instinctive, animal sexuality. The other becomes merely prey to be hunted, through which they feel the power that lies at the core of their sexuality.

“I live lust as an unstoppable, irrepressible need — to expel an impulsive fire through sexual energy. It materialises in one of many sexual forms, but really, it’s about my desire to live. There’s a line by Oscar Wilde that says: ‘I burn with the fire of life.’ That’s what sex is for me: power. I remember being at a party with this fire and selecting the person who ‘had to be mine,’ without even considering their point of view, just to calm my craving. I went for her. I ran over her. And then I carried on as if nothing had happened — almost like searching inside myself for the next fire that needed water to be extinguished.” — Jesús Pérez

“When I like a woman, I feel like a lioness stalking her prey, circling slowly until I finally catch her. And sometimes, the hunt ends with a real bite on her neck — my silent way of saying, ‘Now you’re mine.’” — Leonor

Exercising this power often brings pleasure through the humiliation of the other — a kind of sadism that also contains pleasure. Saying something like, “If I humiliate you and you suffer for me and endure it, that means you love me — and there’s love.”

Thus, a neurotic circle is established: the Sexual 8 feels that only through an intense relationship can they truly surrender, show vulnerability — but this surrender is experienced through control, domination, and the humiliation of the other.

“If I show myself vulnerable, it’s only because I trust you, and if I trust you, it’s because I can possess you,” they seem to say.

A “real” relationship is one where they can show both their best and their worst, believing that’s what sustains it. For this subtype, showing love or tenderness is the same as showing tyranny and aggression. If the relationship endures both, it’s proof of its “truth.”

“I dominate you through good sex, breakfast in bed, admiration and worship — but later, I charge interest for it. You have to live up to my expectations, or I’ll make you pay for it. That’s how the possession of the other begins — if I let myself go, I might even use the other person at will.” — Jesús Pérez

The Origin of Possessiveness

Where does this urge to possess come from? Or should we rather say — this confusion between love and possessiveness?

What’s clear is that for Sexual 8s there’s no distinction between the two. From a young age, they confused love with possession because they lived as if loving gave them the right to dominate and own the other.

That’s precisely what they experienced with their caregivers.

In the testimonies gathered from the group, it’s common to feel love as an unstable, confusing bond — with mothers who both loved and humiliated their children, or violent parents who didn’t know how to establish healthy limits.

There are also cases of parents who gave their children privileges they didn’t deserve, making them feel omnipotent in all their desires — even unconsciously placing them in the role of partner, which made them grow up as overly powerful children.

-“There was a twisted, intense warmth — but it was there. I was ‘Daddy’s little girl’ and ‘Mom’s secret hope.’ I became the ‘chocolate girl’: a daughter who deeply loved but also rebelled fiercely, avenging her wounded childhood through every imaginable adolescent excess. I drank, I stole, I lied — but deep down, I was looking for love where danger appeared.” — Galina

A common experience among them is having to grow up too quickly — barely having time to be children, having to defend themselves and survive like lions or lionesses in the jungle of childhood.

They had to take care of themselves too soon, becoming their own authority, scorning tenderness and affection, which they nevertheless longed for inside.

Group testimonies identify possessiveness as a learned pattern from childhood. Children who tried to protect their mothers from their fathers’ violence developed possessive instincts toward their mothers.

This dependency dynamic — with mothers who humiliate their children while also loving them — creates desperate children who cling to their parents like stuffed toys, seeking safety, comfort, and containment.

“I remember when I was sick, I would get into bed with my parents. My father would kick me out, and I thought, ‘My mother won’t let me stay.’ So I’d grab my stuffed animal. That toy became my transference object — I could hold it, possess it, and do whatever I wanted with it.” — Jesús Pérez

“I had a chick once. I’d wash it, feed it, and play with it all day. I’d squeeze it too much, out of love — and one day, I killed it. I was devastated. I loved that chick. I cared for it, but I was so desperate to show affection that I ended up hurting it. At the end, the same thing happened with my girlfriend — I held her, hurt her, and then cried. Maybe that’s what possessiveness is: love that becomes violence.” — Jesús Sallabera

“These stories show how this longing for fusion — instead of staying with mother or father — shifts to an animal or an object, like those stuffed toys these people clung to as children, as substitutes for a safe bond.”

“I think my fusion with my mother broke early. I was an active child, always moving, always wanting contact, and I think she was overwhelmed. I remember asking for more hugs, more contact — and missing them. Now, through possessiveness, I look for that same repair in my relationships.” — Leonor

There’s also the feeling of needing to be stronger than one of the parents to dominate them — to avoid being mistreated in turn.

“I remember my mother killing kittens by smashing them against the floor. I was very little, and I remember telling her to let me save them. She grabbed me instead. I just wanted to dominate her by deceiving her — but I was only two years old.” — Irene

“I remember a neighbour throwing a ball into a nest and killing baby birds. That’s when I thought I had to be stronger — to make sure it never happened again.” — Leonor

“In my case, I can clearly tell which parent I wanted to dominate and which one I wanted to be loved by. My father was the one who hit me; I competed with him. My mother — I wanted her to come pick me up.” — Jesús Pérez

“I rebelled. I drank, I worked illegally, unknowingly joining the mafia. One night, men chased me down — I was terrified. But my mother rescued me. She loved me in her own way, savagely protecting her cubs. That’s how I learned love through danger.” — Galina

Possession and Domination

Possession and domination are constants in the relationships of Sexual 8s, and their roots lie in their early relationships with parents. The child feels that to survive, they must possess and dominate, because love was always mixed with ambivalence and fear. For them, possession and domination are intertwined with love — and also with the people they perceive as dangerous. “If I dominate you and place myself above you, I feel safe,” they say.

Possession and domination achieve their effect by instilling fear — making the other perceive them as dangerous. “It’s showing who’s in charge, proving it, and needing it to be seen,” they recount.

“I’m possessive with my partners because I feel they’re mine, but I also give them freedom. The domination comes from fear — if I feel threatened, I assert my masculinity. I know now that when I possess, I can finally see it — before, I couldn’t.” — Bittor

In possessiveness, there’s also the sensation of having power to give freedom — perhaps behind it lies the longing to be possessed by the mother. To finally belong to her, after never being able to trust her emotionally or rely on her affection.

“I always provoked my mother because I wanted her attention. With my siblings and everyone around, it was the same. I dominated my siblings and people from the neighbourhood, freezing them with my anger. Even with my partner — when she looked at me while I cried, and instead of running away, she stopped and smiled at me. Maybe that’s possessiveness: love through violence.” — Jesús Sallabera

Verbal and physical violence are constants in the biographies of Sexual 8s. The belief that they are “bad” is deeply ingrained, and beneath it lies an endless longing to find unconditional love.

Unconditional Love

This possessiveness is driven by an irrational belief—that the other must accept these lustful individuals “just as we are, with all our light and shadow.” Beneath that conviction lies a desperate longing for what they call unconditional love—a kind of love that endures no matter what they do, how they behave, or how dark they become.

They yearn for someone who will stay, despite everything. The phrase “despite how they are” carries a hidden confession: they know they can be unfaithful, violent, domineering, rude, provocative, or cruel. Yet what they crave most is precisely to be loved without having to change. And that too is a form of possession—the need to be accepted while remaining completely unaltered.

“My relationships were intense, dramatic, often violent. We loved each other, fought, reconciled, broke up, hit each other, cried, and started all over again. Love was a war. That’s what I knew. I confused obsession with passion, drama with love. I had affairs with relatives. The taboo thrilled me. I was looking for something deeper than lust—connection, fusion, something unbreakable. I was unfaithful, not because my partners weren’t enough, but because I couldn’t bear needing someone completely. I always kept a back door open.” — Galina

The longing beneath this chaos is to find someone who can receive all their stored tenderness—someone who can hold them like a parent holds a child, without judgment, without limits. The problem is that such unconditional acceptance exists only between parents and children. When it fails to appear in adult love, the violent and sadistic side of the Eight awakens—the hand that longs to caress also tries to possess.

“I need someone who accepts me exactly as I am—with all my light and all my shadows. In my case, since turning thirty, I’ve been very promiscuous. Before that, I was faithful—but faithful to my word, not to my nature. Deep down, I just want to find someone who can accept my lust, my desire to sleep with others, and still stay.” — Bittor

“I say I don’t judge, but that turns into abuse. It’s like saying: you abuse me, I abuse you—but at least you stay. You don’t leave me alone.” — Irene

This is a childlike longing to be accepted as I am, but it carries a hidden trap: to demand unconditional acceptance is to condemn the other—to say, in essence, “You must love me no matter what it costs you.” The Sexual 8 does not renounce their desires; they expect love to accommodate them. “If you love me, you’ll take everything—my excesses, my rage, my lust.”

Possessiveness here means forcing the other to accept one’s totality—without moderation, without surrender.

As one participant put it:

“We don’t live as if we’ve been accepted. We keep testing people, pushing to see if they’ll still love us afterward. But what ends up happening is that we destroy the relationship instead of building it.”

“If I can get violent and they stay, it means they love me. And that’s a total disaster.” — Irene

This dynamic reveals why those of this subtype often link love and violence. From childhood, they learned that affection coexisted with pain—that the people who loved them also hurt them, and they, as children, had no choice but to stay. Thus, for them, love and aggression became intertwined: “If you stayed when I hurt you, that means you loved me.”

And so, in adulthood, they seek not peace, but the familiar rhythm of pain and reconciliation—the only form of love they’ve ever known.

Indignity

Deep down, there is a profound sense of indignity — a belief, formed in childhood, that they are bad and therefore unworthy of love. Even as adults, they carry this conviction that they don’t deserve to be loved. They often look at themselves through a negative lens. Although these individuals appear very confident and strong, there’s a deep sense of indignity and unworthiness inside them — nourished by childhoods in which they were labelled as “bad,” “problematic,” or “rebellious.”

They seem to tell themselves that the way to recover their dignity is by possessing and dominating the other person — by reclaiming that unconditional love they never received. Hence, their longing to receive love despite feeling unworthy of it.

“To prove love, I try to create conflict, because in conflict I feel good. In day-to-day life, if nothing happens, I feel empty. I need to be hit to feel alive. My mother gave me hostility; I learned to relate from that intensity. I was her saviour, her devil, her god. She saw me as a child — not as useless peace, but as conflict, as pleasure. I can’t stand days when nothing happens.” — Gerard

“At home, my usefulness appears when there’s conflict. That’s when I slam my fist on the table and impose order.” — Bittor

There’s an association between love and conflict that generates a kind of addiction — as if conflict were a drug sought out to feel charge and intensity. It’s an addiction to aggression and violence, where they feel “alive” only through it.

“I like being a mercenary. If we were living in the Middle Ages, we’d be warriors, not talking online about our emotions.” — Gerard

There’s even a kind of mad idea that possession involves the power to decide over someone’s life or death — as if they resonated with that divine power of deciding the fate of those close to them.

Deep down, there’s a great inner disconnection — many layers of numbness, many emotional armors — that make them need that much intensity just to feel anything at all. And within that intensity lies the need to possess.