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.
Continuing a theme that has been on my mind extensively as of late, I find that the energy I give into my interpersonal relationships is often minimal. There are exceptions, usually when an element of lust or other “new interpersonal relationship” energy is involved, but those exceptions tend to die over time leaving my indifferent shell as the only constant in such relationships. My therapist has noted this and we had an extensive conversation recently regarding this energy differential. She seemed puzzled as to why I, a creature who is happiest when interacting with others, would give so little energy. Wouldn’t my bitching and moaning about a lack of meaningful interactions dissipate if I were simply to invest energy in those interpersonal relationships that I do have or could have? Undoubtedly, the answer to this question is ‘yes,’ but she is missing a point that I hold dear. I believe that I will only give my all in an interpersonal relationship in which I feel both sufficiently stimulated, entertained, and valued. I’ve had plenty of interpersonal relationships in which I can recognize value, but I have never felt stimulated nor entertained for more than a fleeting moment. To reference a tired quote from the series Hannibal, “(they) just aren’t that interesting.”
I’m trying very hard to rein in my spending these days and for the most part I’ve succeeded – even if only because my credit cards are maxed out. I’ll be moving soon and I need every penny I’ve got to find a new residence, make initial purchases, and secure utilities. I find that restraining my outwardly antisocial behavior is easy: society would punish me greatly for slips on that front. Restraining my inwardly antisocial behavior is much more difficult, however. When I am the only one that suffers from such behavior and I’m the only one that can place judgement – of which there is none – how can I ensure that I’m not destroying myself as I live my life?
I see so many antisocials that run amok on a daily basis searching for their next fix. It seems that all too often, antisocial individuals are hellbent on creating chaos and do not consider the consequences should they refuse to target their amorality. Yes, the ability to do harm and to otherwise ignore the boundaries that society sets can be satisfying – and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t fall to such temptation more often than I’d like – but eventually this unbounded joyride results in collision. The universe usually whispers before it shouts, but few of us, it seems, heed such warnings until they are deafening.