Psychopaths have weak identities in general.  Our only constant is change.  We are chameleons and we wear the personalities of those around us.  I believe that the constant shapeshifting that we engage in leaves us with a very weak sense of identity.  We can state facts about our being but we cannot articulate who the underlying person actually is.  Our identities are like candle flames, dancing in the wind and ever-changing in color and shape.

The other night I spent a long time chatting with a reader of this blog.  They were as perplexed as I when it comes to my difficulty articulating my identity.  No, identity is not merely the recitation of facts.  It is something deeper and it eludes me in full.  They recommended that my identity is simply that of constant change.  My identity is a lack of stable identity.  My identity is ever-changing – and that, in and of itself, is identity.

I like to think of my identity as lying out of sight.  All I can do is – through trial, error, and observation – seek to identify where it lies.  Yes, I can recite many facts – that I am left-handed, pizza is a comfort food, and that I prefer soccer to football – but there is more to identity than that.  What that is, I may never know.  This is what fascinates me regarding the readers’ recommendation.  Rather than homing in – but never finding – on the interval that I believe holds my identity, I can embrace the fact that it is not fixed to begin with.  I can embrace the psychopath’s inherent fluidity as defining something which should essentially be fixed.

Every time I stare into the proverbial mirror, I see no reflection.  I see that which surrounds me but never myself.  Maybe that reader is right and that I merely am looking in the wrong places.  Instead of looking for my reflection in the mirror, I should be looking at the snapshots that surround my life on a daily basis.  One day I am cruel; another I am introspective.  One day I benevolent, and another day I am parasitic.  I should embrace the haze that my identity “is” rather than searching for a clear picture in a hall full of mirrors.  Just as the candle flame, I should embrace the winds that blow me around and celebrate the changes in color and shape that my being takes.  I will never find a fixed identity, but within the chaos inside, there is someone – even if she dances to the tune of her own decree.