Yesterday I visited a friend that I have not seen in several months. We had the usual small talk and then moved on to other topics. In my current age of solitude, it was pleasant to interact with someone that I actually respect.
The conversation turned toward our endeavors as of late. She remarked about major life changes that she had chosen as well as other anecdotes that I can no longer remember. She and I were very close when we lived together as roommates a while back and she knows of my sordid past. Out of curiosity, she asked what foolishness I have engaged in as of late.
I’m sorry, I really don’t have any stories right now. Things have been fairly quiet. New job, solitude, and side projects take up my time.
I never learn. Just when I think that I’ve conquered Borderline tendencies of splitting – that is, elevation and devaluation of others to a magnitude not justified – my proclivities manifest in full force and destroy everything around me. While extreme elevation is not realistic or healthy, the devaluation (and the interactions with my psychopathy that make such devaluation especially cruel) that I impart is devastating. I send those around me to the guillotine and then wonder why my kingdom has only one citizen.
I’ve been dealing these cycles of destruction to others for all of my life. Whether it was the person in high school that rejected my advances but was a friend until I tore them down mercilessly or, more recently, my greatest advocate and champion that I attacked, I always lose those closest to me when I submit to Borderline rage. The pattern is well established by now. They either wrong, or I perceive them as wronging, me, I explode, and then I ask for forgiveness – promising that such a reaction on my end will never happen again. Of course it does. It is automatic, unconscious, and brutal.
Shortly before I was married, during my final year of university studies, my betrothed and I lived with several other people in a house adjacent to the university we studied at. The university town was a small one in the middle of the great plains of the Midwest and there was nothing but cornfield or forest in the area around the town. One day, my ex nearly hit a dog while driving on one of the innumerable country roads in the area. Feeling extreme empathy for this lost animal – he had determined that the dog was collared and, thus, presumably lost – he pulled over, put the dog in the car, and brought it back to our house in order to contact the owner. I was less than pleased.
When he arrived home with the animal, I unleashed a verbally abusive torrent at him. How dare he bring home an animal without the consent of others living in the house? Was he unable to think? Why risk the ire and damage the respect we had from those we lived with over the inconsequential dog that he picked up?
Out of the many traits that define psychopathy, the “strongest” for me is my parasitism. Whether it is stretching the rules with obligations, showing up late and leaving early, or taking resources from those that won’t do anything (but maybe complain), I always seek actions that lead to maximum reward without anything but minimal effort on my part.
Without directly justifying my actions, I wish to present the case as merely being logical. If someone is going to let you mooch off of them, taking either their energy or a physical resource, then why wouldn’t you? In many instances, their thoughts directed toward you won’t even change out of failed notions of loyalty, as is the case when I misrepresent financial need to my close family (even though I make more than all of them combined). It is as if there is a sign that says “free money” in front of them; why wouldn’t I take them up on their “generous” offer?
Earlier today, I was driving down a busy city street when the following all-too-usual and ill-advised scenario played out. Traffic was backed up in the lane that I was in and the car behind me left a gap so that someone could make a left turn. However, the lane (going the same direction as mine) to the right of me was clear and traffic was moving smoothly there. Needless to say, someone attempts a left turn given that gap that I mentioned and gets T-boned by a car heading down the lane to the right of me. Debris flew everywhere and it briefly looked like my truck would become part of the accident. It did not and I went on my way, without my heart quickening even ever so slightly.
I’ve decided to open up the reach of my writing. Word of mouth among antisocials is nearly non-existent, so my writings face a unique challenge in terms of organic growth. For many, placing themselves out there in such a naked way would be terrifying. Many who suffer from mental illness would be petrified to put their experiences out there in a way in which anyone can fuel the flames. However, just with the car accident that I was nearly part of, I feel no fear. Maybe this dance is simply a tired one; six years ago I faced a similar period of risk and reward when I came out as transgender to friends and family. I know the steps and the tempo now, but I also wonder to which extent my psychopathy dulls my senses. Everything is tired, yet everything may yet be new. Only by plunging headfirst into the waters, will I find out.
I did not wake up one day and decide to become a callous being that possesses neither conscience nor empathy. My genetics and upbringing certainly dictated that for me. I had no free will regarding the existence of my condition, but I have all of the free will world in the world when it comes to acting the part. Psychopaths need not be bloodthirsty lunatics. Intelligence and introspection may go a long way in controlling our primal urges, but, nevertheless, we all possess free will when it comes to deciding whether to act in an antisocial fashion.
Yes, the temptations of blackmail, manipulation, and subterfuge are always present in my life. If there is a goal in mind or an object to be had, my mind will scope out all available options in order to attain that which I want. Before I started therapy and, specifically, before diagnosis I may have not had the insight in order to avoid acting on my antisocial thoughts and impulses, but I realize now that I can’t act out like a two-year old at all times. Isn’t that the best that can be hoped for by society? Anything more seems … unfair.
Earlier this evening, a grandmother figure in my life passed away. When I was younger, my mother and father would often take my brother and I to visit her. She was always kind and welcoming and was extremely sharp for her elder age. This relative is one of the few that I do not have anything ill to say about.
The news broke while I was in therapy; I received a text message from my brother letting me know that the relative had died a few hours earlier. As a result, my therapist was able to see my raw, unmasked reaction. What she saw was a picture of pure indifference.
Journalists like to claim that there are two sides to every story. With many subjects, this is simply not the case as one side is often considered as supporting the taboo and unmentionable aspects of the human condition. Whether it is one’s love for hook suspension, heavy BDSM, or – in my case – the possession of psychopathic personality traits, many are often silenced due to the subject matter that is important to them.
Discourse is exceptionally important and no voice should be made mute. I am not arguing that every viewpoint has merit nor that anything but logic should be applied when evaluating such views. What I am arguing, is that the mere topic at hand is not enough to warrant silencing another. Many things that are taboo are quite logical under the surface. Most things considered taboo are taboo because few will let the subject have its name uttered.
Those who are ASPD and/or psychopathic tend to be regarded as monsters by society. Movies portray everyone with these afflictions as being rapists and murderers. Headlines in newspapers paint fantastic pictures of destruction. Should society be wary of the antisocial? Yes, I believe that is only fair. However, we must not lose sight of the fact that the ASPD-spectrum of disorders is a reflection of the human condition, not an alien and monstrous one.
Many who have been recently diagnosed with – or have come to the conclusion that they are – ASPD and/or psychopathy often think of themselves as being monsters in a world of humanity. These people often miss the same point that I described in the first paragraph. The wiring of the brain and one’s proclivities may be different due to genetics and/or abuse, but the fact is still the same. These individuals are still human.
Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of when I had electroshock to tame severe chemical depression that had crippled me for much of my life. The treatment option was as extreme as the depression that it combatted. Click the link in the opening sentence if you wish to read more about that facet of my life.
I spent yesterday in thoughtful reflection, attempting to put in perspective the whirlwind of events that have occurred in the past year. Depression free at the conclusion of electroshock, I nearly quit psychotherapy. Had I quit, though, I would have never stumbled upon great insights into my personality. No, I never expected that the conversations my psychotherapist and I would have could possibly lead to discussions regarding ASPD and psychopathy, but they did. I am a better person as a result, being armed with knowledge regarding my inner workings and how to stay in the right when it comes to the law and society. My reflections from yesterday were a reminder, most importantly, that there is always further introspection to be had and knowledge to gain.