Chapter 8. The Relationship Model “Infanta”

The eternal child: A trap with no way out.

1. NAME AND MEANING

Transcription and Etymology: The name of the model comes from the title “Infanta,” which in fourteenth-century Spain was given to all of the king’s children except the direct heir to the throne. But in its deeper, etymological sense, going back to the Latin word Infans, it means “child” or “one who cannot speak.” In modern aviation, for instance, the related term “infant” is used for children under two, who don’t occupy their own seat and fly on a parent’s lap, entirely dependent on them.

If you follow the logic of psychoanalysis, this is a fixation at an early stage of development. In our methodology, the “Infanta” is a relationship model in which an adult person, despite their age and outward independence, retains a childlike way of thinking. This is the archetype of someone who, in relationships, demands that their needs be met and that they be looked after in a “parent-child” style, shifting responsibility for their own life onto another person’s shoulders.

The roots of the image go back to family dynamics. In our methodology, the “Infanta” means placing safety and care above independence and growing up. It is a model in which a person consciously or unconsciously gives up the right to make mistakes, preferring to be controlled but protected.

2. SLOGAN AND BELIEFS

People in the “Infanta” state of mind often broadcast thoughts that betray their hidden need to be taken care of. Here are three core beliefs typical of this model, sounding like mantras in their inner dialogue:

“Everyone absolutely must have someone to lean on.” (The belief that independence is impossible, or deadly dangerous.)

“I can do anything—it’s not my fault anyway.” (Shifting responsibility for mistakes onto circumstances, fate, or other people.)

“Decide for me, I don’t know what’s best.” (Refusing to make decisions even in everyday matters, searching for an external impulse to act.)

3. INFORMATION BLOCK: HISTORY, LITERATURE, AND PSYCHOLOGY

“I can’t choose for myself.” Past a certain age, every adult should be capable of making decisions on their own. This is the axiom of maturity. And yet there are people who struggle with it even when choosing what to wear. They absolutely need someone to tell them which color to go with, because they rely on an external impulse for any action. Without a command from the outside, their engine of will stalls.

What cognitive distortions show up in the minds of those with immature thinking? Every time they need someone else’s help, such people cannot make decisions that matter for their own lives, explaining this away with all sorts of excuses and never leaving the victim position. They constantly need an adviser who will point the way, even in the most ordinary matters.

The main problem of infantilism is symbiotic relationships. The source of such relationships lies in childhood. Anxious parents, meddling in their child’s every affair, get in the way of the child’s choices and control their every step. They constantly frighten them with possible mistakes and criticize. As a result, an attitude takes root in the child’s mind: “I can’t manage,” which gradually leads to a lack of self-confidence. As a result, the part of the Ego responsible for professional skills and independence lags behind in its development.

Infantilism is a psychological state that shows itself in a refusal to make decisions, a refusal to take responsibility, and an unwillingness to achieve necessary results, in which a person demonstrates a childlike pattern of behavior. It is a state in which a person places themselves in a position of dependence on others. With this kind of thinking, a person can hold any role, but they will clear every step they take with their “guardian.” They may frequently change their position, following, of course, special instructions from the outside.

The term “infantilism” in psychology goes back to the same Latin root (infans, “child”) as the title of the medieval Spanish princes. Who is an infante? At the beginning of the fourteenth century, in the Spanish kingdoms, only the direct heirs to the throne were called princes; the other children received the title of infante. Translated, infante means “infant.”

Various theorists cite the child’s pattern of behavior as an example. For example, in Eric Berne’s Transactional Analysis, the crossing of Ego states (Child, Parent, Adult) is analyzed with certain results. Unlike Ego states, the “Infanta” model, once it has become fixed in the mind as a cognitive distortion, will manifest as a complex for a lifetime, in any situation. Regardless of roles and situations, the Infanta will rely on the choices of others. Even a person of high intelligence, a talented artist or writer, can suffer from the Infanta complex. They may achieve success in their work, but in some other sphere they will seek sublimation, constantly trying to test themselves in different places.

How does infantilism develop? Having been under their parents’ care their whole lives, they need parental advice in every matter and act the way their parents want. When they come of age, the choice of a job, starting a family—all of this comes down to emotionally attached parents or to other people in the parental role. In the working world, they depend on the opinions of colleagues, agreeing with their every thought. They need advice even on the smallest daily matters: whether to go on break, whether to attend an event, what to wear, when to come back. Such people are often called “easily influenced.”

You can openly observe the surrender of one’s own will and choice in many spheres of life. In family life, the “Infantas,” known as “mama’s boys” or “daddy’s girls,” run into a whole set of difficulties. Under the label of “living by their parents’ word,” they go through countless conflicts. And this attachment doesn’t have to be between mother and child. If an Infanta builds a family with someone prone to overprotection and control, sooner or later they will fall into emotional or material dependence on their spouse. Two Infantas will never get along under one roof. To resolve their internal family disputes, third parties will inevitably step in. Even at their own wedding, they will act on the opinions of the people around them. If those around them say “yes” to the question “should you start a family with this person?” they will summon their strength and answer “yes.” But if family life doesn’t turn out the way they hoped, they will blame not their own unlucky choice but the advice of others. The main problem of people who refuse to take responsibility on themselves is that it’s hard for them to analyze a problem situation objectively. Because the Infanta is still a child: they bear no responsibility for their actions, and so they never take responsibility on themselves. They look for the causes of their problems not in themselves but in others. As a result, the Infanta is always dissatisfied and complains about everyone.

They oscillate between a feeling of admiration and one of regret. Regret is their life story. From the very start, they make decisions not on the basis of their own needs, but according to the subjective opinions of others, or for the sake of pleasing someone.

You will often meet people who, out of fear of making a mistake, cannot take responsibility on themselves. But that doesn’t mean everyone who acts this way is building the “Infanta” model. To show the difference, here is a small example: if a person suffers from uncertainty in any given situation and explains it as a fear of making a mistake, that’s simply a problem being lived through in the moment. In this case, if alternative paths and choices are open to the person, an explanation is given, and sooner or later the problem will find its solution. But when it comes to the “Infanta” model, what is expected is not people’s opinions, but a direct directive toward a solution, taken as an expected need.

People who build relationships on the “Infanta” model can, of course, be wonderful parents or good professionals, but they never grow into interesting, vivid personalities. Suppose, for example, a young Infanta marries a successful businessman. She will always listen to him and act the way he wants. To satisfy her husband, she will never go against his word and will run every single step by him. The authoritarian male image asserts itself through the Infanta, which is why he will spot his victim from afar. An “obedient” wife can be a perfect choice for such a needy man. From this angle, it’s a very successful match. For the Infanta, too, starting a family with someone resembling a decisive Father is a big win. But no matter how much she satisfies her husband, as a woman she will be boring to talk to and spend time with; she will wear him out. In that case, the man, gradually growing bored with his wife, will start spending more time with his friends. Because with no shared interests or desires between them, a deep spiritual chasm can open up. The “Child” and the “Adult” will find no activity that interests them both, because their interests are simply different.

But boring as this may be, children are usually not abandoned, and so it’s hard to abandon an Infanta, too. The Infanta is always inclined to be under someone’s care. Even if the spouse cheats, even if he stays out having fun with friends until morning, the Infanta in this relationship model will not give him up. No matter how severe the conflicts, no one leaves the Infanta. With the thought “What would he do without me? I feel sorry for him, I can’t leave him,” they always entangle themselves in these drawn-out relationships. It’s as if, through these thoughts, they are voicing their own fears on behalf of the other side. In their world, the Infanta, trying to seem weak and helpless, wants to awaken compassion in everyone. Those around them are forced to treat them like a child, and, when necessary, to scold them. The Infanta, in turn, can take offense and sulk at every word. And yet the “sulky child’s heart” will never be able to build a relationship with someone weaker than itself. It absolutely needs someone who knows how to give orders. For example, faced with the ordinary question “What should I wear?” the answer “I don’t know” can spark a new fight. Two children cannot stay together on their own; there must be someone to take them under their wing. Stuck in the position of the victim for life, the Infanta will feel helpless in any relationship.

People who have emotionally separated from a parent either too early or too late cannot break the emotional bond. Many of them may fall into the “Infanta” model. Here we must note one thing for sure: emotional bonds do not depend on whether the person lives with the parent or apart from them. It can happen that a person lives in another country, apart from the parent, and yet ends up dependent on the parent’s moods from a distance. In many cases, this problem leads not to improvement but to conflict in the relationship with the parent. At some point, rebellious behavior, the separation itself, can create a serious problem in the relationship between parent and child. But the childlike way of thinking will keep showing up in their relationships. And if such people land in suitable conditions, they will develop the “Infanta” model.

At the same time, an Infanta can create long-lasting relationships even without love; these relationships will be built on responsibility. Because a person who agrees to a relationship with them must have an excessive sense of responsibility to accept such behavior without growing resentful. The other side, in this case, is often a carrier of the “Cinderella” model.

In this case, even if the sexual relationship is unsatisfying, unlike other models, the couple does not break up and can stay together for a long time, because the foundation is the emotional bond of a parent-and-child relationship. Since the Infanta’s bond with the caretaker is not based on sexual desire, different people can take on this role: a parent, a sister, a brother, a grandmother, a grandfather, a neighbor, or a colleague. Each of them, at different periods of life, can replace the others by taking the Infanta under their wing. Subconsciously, the Infanta complains about their caretaker in front of strangers, as a form of insurance, and, watching their emotional reactions, decides whether they could become a caretaker in the future.

Since the “Infanta” model is rooted in the primitive level of the personality, it is the most widespread relationship model of all. The “Infanta” model is the only model that, as it develops, can transform into every other relationship model, but no other relationship model can scale back down and return to being an Infanta. Once a child has grown up, they do not shrink back.

But how can an “Infanta” grow? If one day the Infanta realizes that all their discontent and complaints trace back to themselves, they will go through a deep depression. This is precisely why psychological defense mechanisms block the acceptance of that thought. People with this mindset usually don’t even turn to professionals. For example, if a water pipe bursts at home, the Infanta doesn’t call a plumber; they go to the person who looks after them to solve the problem. Naturally, because of their difficulties with communication, they won’t reach out to a psychologist themselves either; they wait for a “Parent” to solve the problem for them. This way of thinking keeps the “Infanta” model fixed as the foundation of their lifestyle for a long time.

The depressive phase: in what situations does the Infanta experience a severe depression?

When the caretaker (anyone in the role of the Parent) dies suddenly.

When the caretaker abruptly abandons the Infanta at the demand of another beloved.

When the caretaker, because of health problems, can no longer give care, and needs care themselves.

When the caretaker demands excessive care in return for the care they give, or when there is sexual abuse or cruelty.

In such situations, depending on whether the Infanta experiences depression or anger, and on where and in what they see a way out, they make a defining decision. It is this decision that reflects a shift in moral values. For example, they repeat a question in their mind over and over: “What is the most important thing in life?” Since the need for gratification is maximal and professional skills are minimal, in most cases this decision takes an aggressive shape, and they come to consider any need more important, and worth satisfying. If they decide that material need is the most important value, they think “If I have money, I have everything,” and automatically build the “Lilith” model in their imagination. If they lost a caretaker over sexual desire, they think “People will do anything for sexual desire,” and bring the “Mistress” model to life in their thinking. Even if they have an unusual talent in this area, they will build relationships with future lovers on the “Courtesan” model.

In some cases, an Infanta going through a deep depression, if they turn their “drama” into a public story and manage to put their “tragedy” on the agenda of social media and the press, can gather a crowd of followers and fans around themselves, presenting themselves as “a victim of injustice,” and can learn to satisfy their needs by receiving material help and gifts from many people. If they keep up this venture, then, without bringing society any benefit and without possessing any talent, they will become one of society’s well-known figures and, using their fame, will be able to tap into various streams of income. In these cases, they are no longer an Infanta: they are building relationships on the “Geisha” model. In exactly the same way, if an Infanta suffering from material and moral dependence gathers around themselves other people who have fallen into the same situation and tries to solve the problems of this social stratum together, they will be able to formalize their work in the future as a non-governmental organization. Even after that, they may decide to dedicate their life to helping people with the same problem. In that case, they are no longer an Infanta: they are a “Teresa.”

However, in most cases, the Infanta, emerging from the depressive phase through change, goes on building relationships with people on the closer-to-home “Beggar” model.

At this stage of their life, if they turn to a specialist, they will be able to analyze their thinking and relationship models with the help of psychotherapy. In the course of psychotherapy, if they manage to realize that they leaned on other people every single time a problem came up, they will get a chance to escape this relationship trap. They will see clearly that even when there was someone in their previous relationships who could make decisions for them, they immediately tried to surrender their will to that person. If the “Infanta” realizes this, they will want to let go of such classic psychological complexes.

Once he finds answers to the questions “Who am I? What am I hiding? Which feelings am I running from? What am I afraid to show? Which of my qualities were my parents never supposed to know?” he will understand that his silence originally stemmed from a fear of punishment. It is at this very moment that a new way of thinking begins to take shape. Now, paying more attention to his own feelings, he will start doing the opposite: trying to open up. In real life, he will speak aloud the things he was once ashamed of, try saying “no” when he doesn’t want something, and see the changes in his new behavior that come with these new thoughts. If someone laughs during a conversation, he will be able to handle the situation as it comes, instead of arguing or taking offense. He will begin to enjoy this pattern of behavior, and escaping his dependent position in society will give him true freedom of thought. He will act not out of compulsion, but out of desire.

After this stage, we can observe the Infanta taking on responsibility, seeing the changes in his life and the difference in his behavior. Growing as a person, he may decide to spend his life not with someone who will make decisions for him and satisfy his needs, but with someone to his liking. Healthy, mutual, loving relationships will then take center stage on his agenda.

4. 5 FAMOUS FIGURES (ARCHETYPES OF THE MODEL)

Historical and cultural figures whose behavior matched the “Infanta” model: the inability to make decisions, the search for a caretaker, a childlike stance in adulthood.

Ilya Oblomov (literary archetype, I. Goncharov).

The hero of the novel Oblomov, a nobleman who cannot get off his couch and take the reins of his own life into his hands.

How the model shows up: A classic example of infantilism. He delegates everything to his servant Zakhar, dreams of an ideal, but takes no steps toward it. His life is a waiting game—for someone else (Stolz, Olga) to come along and arrange his happiness for him. He fears responsibility and change, preferring safe stagnation.

Tsar Nicholas II (Russia, 19th–20th centuries).

The last Emperor of All Russia, whose reign was marked by indecisiveness and the influence of his inner circle.

How the model shows up: A historical example of a man at the summit of power who was often unable to make independent political decisions, relying instead on the advice of his ministers, his wife, or Rasputin. His diaries and letters reveal a kind man, but one unprepared to bear the burden of single-handedly answering for the fate of his country—a man searching for support outside himself.

Peter Pan (literary archetype, J. Barrie).

The boy who refused to grow up and flew away to Neverland.

How the model shows up: A symbolic archetype of the Infanta. He lives in a world of games, where no one has to answer for consequences. He needs “mothers” (Wendy) to look after him, tell him stories, and mend his clothes, but he himself is not ready for a relationship between equal adults.

Britney Spears (USA, 21st century), the period of conservatorship.

A pop star who lived for more than a decade under the legal conservatorship of her father.

How the model shows up: Despite worldwide success and money, she was deprived of the right to make decisions about her own life, finances, and even health. This demonstrates how an outwardly successful person can remain in the Infanta position if, inwardly, they delegate the right to their own life to another person (even through a legal structure).

Forrest Gump (literary/cinematic archetype, W. Groom).

A simple man who drifts along the current of life, following the advice of his mother and his friends.

How the model shows up: Although his story is told as a positive one, from the standpoint of the relationship model he never forms goals of his own. His successes are the result of following instructions (“Run, Forrest, run”) and of luck, not of conscious choice and strategy. He remains an “eternal child” in a world of adult decisions.

5. EXITING THE MODEL (DEPRESSIVE AND AGGRESSIVE)

A person may be confronted with the loss of the caretaker, or with rebellion.

When the caretaking structure collapses (the death, the departure, the illness of the caretaker), a crisis sets in.

The depressive exit: The person realizes: “I can’t live on my own.” The Infanta falls into panic, feels utterly helpless. He may start hunting for a new caretaker at any price, even the price of humiliation (sliding into the Beggar model). Or, if he has some resources, he may monetize his helplessness, gathering support around his own “tragedy” (moving into the Geisha or Teresa model, if he starts helping others like himself).

The aggressive exit: The person is angry at the caretaker for abandoning them. “Why didn’t you take care of me?!” The Infanta may begin demanding attention aggressively, manipulating the other person’s guilt. Depending on which value they pick for survival, they may move into the Lilith model (money as safety), the Mistress model (sex as safety) or the Courtesan model (charm as a tool). If they recognize the problem and start therapy, the path to growing up and moving on to the Phoenix becomes possible.

6. MARIA’S STORY. THE PATH OF “INFANTA”

A month had passed since Maria rented a cheap apartment on the edge of the city. The keys dragged at her coat pocket like lead. Living for herself proved harder than mopping floors: at the foundation every morning had been mapped out by other people’s needs, and now she woke and couldn’t see why she should get up. What remained of the salon was a pair of beautiful hands and a debt to the landlady for the second month. She had no savings, having given everything away, and there was nobody to tell her where to go or how to pay.

The phone rang twice, and both times the screen said “Edgar.” She looked at the name until it went dark.

She met Leon at a bank, where she was trying to find out why her payment wouldn’t go through. He stood behind her for a while, listening, then nudged her aside with his shoulder, said three short sentences to the girl at the window, and the payment went through. He was about ten years older, big, loud, one of those men waiters bring the check to without asking who’s paying.

“You’re completely helpless,” he said out on the street, with more pleasure than reproach.

Two weeks later he had dropped every formality with her and was walking around her room, touching her things:

“Here’s how it’s going to be. I’ll decide where we live. I’ll decide what you do.”

Maria exhaled. It was like coming in from the frost to a well-heated house: no more counting, no more choosing, no more fear of getting it wrong. The next day she moved her bag over to his place.

For three months she lived behind him as behind a wall. Leon chose the restaurants, the movies, the place for their vacation; he chose her clothes. “Blue would look good on you,” he said, and she bought blue, though she had never worn it. Nina, whom she had only just started calling again, he disliked from the first mention. “You shouldn’t see that friend. She’s jealous of you,” he said, and Maria stopped answering her calls, hardly noticing the loss.

This life had one more sweetness, one she would never have told anyone about: whatever happened, it was never her fault. He got her a job as a receptionist at a friend’s clinic, she overslept the first day, and that evening said with a pout, “Well, you didn’t wake me up.” He laughed and called the friend himself. She lost her passport, and he had it replaced through people he knew. Her voice had become higher than before; she could hear that little voice herself, and she even liked it.

That is how the Infanta model shows itself: a person hands another the right to decide, and in return receives the peace of a child for whom the grown-ups have already decided everything.

One evening Leon was pacing the room and thinking aloud about how they would spend the winter. The clinic, in his view, should be swapped for something more respectable, the vacation taken in February, and by spring it would be time to think about a child. In mid-sentence he stopped, looked at her sitting with her feet tucked up in the armchair, and asked, the way you ask a child which jam she wants:

“And what do you want?”

He wasn’t waiting for an answer and had already turned to the window. And Maria opened her mouth and couldn’t say a thing. She honestly searched herself for a single “I want” and found none. Blue or red, sea or mountains, a child or no child: in the place where people have desire, she was flat and empty, like a swept floor.

She had never been so scared, not even in Omar’s dark living room.

“I’m almost thirty-six, and I don’t know what I want for dinner. If he leaves tomorrow, all that’s left of me is a blue dress.”

“I don’t know,” she said aloud.

“There, you see,” Leon said good-naturedly. “You’re strange today. Never mind, we’ll decide.”

She looked at her hands on the armrests. Not so long ago they had been shaking over a payment slip at the bank, and now they lay calm and manicured, as if they weren’t hers.

“I’m going out to dinner,” she said, and surprised herself.

“Where do you think you’re going? I made a reservation for nine o’clock.”

“I don’t know where. By myself.”

He decided it was a whim and waved her off. She called the taxi herself, gave the first street that came to mind, and walked into the first café with its lights on. The waitress put a menu in front of her, and Maria sat over it for twenty minutes. She read the names and waited for something to stir inside, and inside, Leon’s voice kept prompting: have the fish, it’s good for you. At last she ordered crepes with sweetened condensed milk, which she had loved at ten, ate half, and paid herself, counting the change.

The crepes were so-so. But she had picked them herself.

When she got back, Leon was asleep, sprawled across the whole bed. She sat on the edge and looked at him for a long time. He wasn’t a cruel man. He needed a woman who didn’t know what she wanted, and she had spent three months looking for someone who would know for her. Nobody had deceived anybody. It was just that beside him all she could do was shrink.

She found a place in three days, in secret, from a flyer on a lamppost: a room with a kitchen above a bakery, cheap, with a window onto the courtyard. The same bakery needed a counter clerk. These were the first two things in a long time that she had done without asking anyone, and the whole time fear gnawed at the pit of her stomach.

On the fourth morning Leon woke up and saw a suitcase by the door.

“Where are you going? Up to your tricks again?”

Maria was zipping it shut and didn’t answer.

“You won’t manage on your own,” he said, sitting up in bed. He wasn’t angry; he truly didn’t understand. “You can’t even get a payment through at the bank.”

“Maybe not. But I want to try.”

It was brisk outside. In her pocket lay a key, light, with a cardboard tag on which the landlady had written the apartment number in ballpoint. Maria walked to the bus stop, and she was afraid, but for the first time in many years the fear was her own, handed to no one for safekeeping.