This comment is particularly interesting. The comparison between depression and psychopathic impulsivity seems particularly apt when we consider the numbness that the psychopath lives through in life. This “numbness” is often referred to as psychopathic boredom or the psychopath’s need for stimulation. Nothing satisfies, so the psychopath turns to more and more extreme measures in order to feel anything satisfying regarding life. Some snuff themselves in this fashion, and many others end up in jail seeking a short-lived high. When neurotypicals speak of ‘boredom,’ they mean that they’d rather be doing something other than that which they are engaged in at that moment. When a psychopath speaks of ‘boredom,’ he means that he is numb and seeking anything that will release him from that state, knowing full and well that the odds are against him in finding such a panacea.
Come crawling to me when your impulsivity surrenders you to the deepest depths of financial, legal, or interpersonal hell. I’m sick and tired of individuals assessing themselves in the absence of clear and conclusive evidence of psychopathy. It takes far more than a few poor and rash decisions here and there to reach the heights of psychopathic impulsivity. Let’s talk about a complete disregard for your life. Let’s talk about a complete disregard for the lives of others. If your actions aren’t off the cuff to the point where lives are potentially ruined, you probably do not meet the criteria for psychopathic impulsivity. I’ve discussed numerous times my patterns of risky and impulsive alcohol and substance abuse as well as my excessive and consistent spending that has left me more than underwater. Sexual promiscuity also ties in as people like me tend to find any and all hookups with little concern to anything but the moment. Simply put, your definition of impulsivity and mine probably differ to a great degree.
Heavily bandaged, shrapnel in my side, the shell calls me again. The shell. The self. The shell. The self. Where does one end and the other begin? The barbed-wire baton is passed back and forth quicker than the eye can see. No reflection. All reflections. Introspection. Contradiction. Why cannot I maintain who I am?
When I mucked up my heart with drug use, the complications dictated that I take heart medicine for the rest of my days. When my rampant jams due to a then-unnamed mental disorder threatened my life and my freedom, I turned to therapy for the long haul. My life is complicated. For that, I am grateful. If I was a simpler creature without the (slight) impulse control that I possess, my life could be much different – if I were still alive to this point. I am not a caricature. I refuse to embrace the caricatures that so many associate with psychopathy and ASPD. I realize that a non-trivial number are, however, and they are truly lost. Not I.
I’m twitching like a cockroach in its death throes. Every time that I think I make progress, I take two steps back. Impulsivity will eventually ruin me, but not today. Maybe I’ll be a parasite to a host that fights back. Maybe my lack of foresight and goals will catch up with me. It’s quite possible that I’ll put off the wrong person with my supreme megalomania. There are so many facets of this condition that could eventually burn me. I’m a small child, putting my hand on the stove – over and over again – not caring if it is hot or not. My outwardly antisocial behavior may be on the way out, but the secondary traits of the condition may prove more fatal, even if I do not end up in a jail cell. However, that day is not today.