Psychopathic Self-Destruction – Our Eyes and the Beaks of Crows

A far too familiar noun in my dreams is the wood chipper.  Being run through it, running others through it; these dreams are those that I am less thrilled to have (not that I have many pleasant dreams).  Several times a month, it comes back to haunt me with its familiar one-note song and bloody imagery.  I don’t exactly know what it symbolizes, but I suspect that ‘total destruction’ is on top of the list of possible interpretations.  As always, I walk a fine line between ruining myself, ruining others, and assimilating as the gentle, good-natured, gentrified psychopath that I am supposed to be on this earth.  The forces are always at an uneasy truth and I have my bumps, but ultimately I’ve done a pretty good job at staying out of jail and in the good graces of society.

However, I bring this up because a haunting realization has come upon me as of late.  I used to write to champion those like me; those ASPD and/or psychopathic individuals that somehow make life work.  Over the years, however, I have come to realize that I am nearly alone on this front.  Who then am I actually talking to?  Why do I continue?  I’m not saying I’m going anywhere, but the blood, sweat, and tears that I put in seem forced the longer I remain as ‘pg’.

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This is a continuation of the previous post.  The crux of my dilemma in last night’s post was that I was unsure whether one’s natural state can be augmented.  If psychopaths are animalistic, can they evolve to be human?  Restated, does one’s past dictate one’s future?  Or, because of our modicum of free will, are we given the opportunity to have a future that diverges from our past?  I spoke with many readers and read comments from many more as the concept seemed quite polarizing.  However, I think I’ve answered my question.  Because we have free will, however limited that may be, we have the opportunity to break free of whatever alignment we are born with or become.  It may not be easy; it may require contortions, but we have that opportunity as humans.

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Therapy fucked me up tonight.  I’m starting to lose sight of the narrative I’ve constructed over the past few years.  Now, challenging any narrative for validity is always a good thing, but I feel especially troubled given how correct I thought my narrative was.  I used to believe that everyone born from a human mother’s womb was human, but now I’m not so sure.  “We try to learn to be people, but at the end of the day we are still animals,” I said dejectedly to my therapist.  She did not refute my statement.

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Less Empathy by Those in Power, Please

I recently wrote a lengthy piece for Trigger Warning regarding the pitfalls of empathy in regard to political thought.  The upshot of that musing is that empathy polarizes the political landscape not between those with and those without empathy but between those who focus their empathy on different targets.  Those without empathy, in theory, should be immune to the zeitgeists of the political landscape, having no one to empathize with except themselves.  An obvious follow-up question would be: is it better or worse to have those with empathy in power versus those without?

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So many seek to inflict mortal damage rather than understand another’s point of view.  It starts with one person who has cast their humanity aside.  Then, one by one, others join in as a means of engaging in “holy” vengeance.  In the end, the flames of the executioner’s pyre are fanned and splash onto those that lit the fuel.  It spirals into chaos as those attacking the original victim begin to assault one another as a means of determining purity.  It is a bloody mess with heatseeking missiles that are drawn to all.

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The Demon’s Dance

I watch my marionettes dance in front of my eyes.  They will do what I want them to do and they will do it without realizing that they are under my spell.  There is no such thing as mind control, but the psychopath’s manipulative tricks come close.  The reasons why vary.  Who wouldn’t want to play the puppet master and see the way the limbs move and the feet swing?  Who wouldn’t want to see the lips move in rhythm with the words in one’s head?  The end justifies itself.  I would say that I manipulate because I am bored – and that may be true at times – but ultimately is not the demon’s dance set to the haunting melody that I make reason enough?

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Psychopaths and Friendship Revisited

I’m trying out the idea of friendship again.  I’ve long said that I have acquaintances, not friends, but that leads to a rather unsatisfying life.  I maintain that there is a “bubble” between the psychopath and those she interacts with.  She can be seen and may speak, but she may not touch those around her in the same manner that neurotypicals are accustomed to doing.  That is, a certain level of emotional intimacy is simply off limits to the psychopath.  Given that the world thinks of friendships as being rooted in emotional bonds, this leaves the psychopath without the vocabulary to describe her own interpersonal relationships.  The words and music of those friendships that NTs form are simply lost.

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Laid Bare

Recently, I thought that the professional relationship between my therapist and I was on the brink.

We may know the story of “Grizzly Man,” a man, Timothy Treadwell, that took care of wild Grizzlies in the wilds of Alaska.  He took care of many grizzlies for many years but was eventually eaten whole by those he took care of.  The reader may surmise where I am going with this.

My therapist confided that she has tried to ship me out on several occasions but could never find anyone willing to work with a psychopath.  Neither part of that revelation surprises me.  Saddens me, but does not surprise me.  I’ve been preoccupied with my position on the spectrum of morality and it was my therapist that tipped off the answer – one that neither of us were especially prepared to accept.

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I grow tired of everyone trying to justify my condition.  “Oh it must have been due to abuse; it’s okay to act this way as a result.”  “Obviously your genetics are flawed and you can’t control that, it’s okay.”  I’ve heard countless other pathetic excuses as well.  Some of these are used by those that want to fake ASPD and/or psychopathy for some reason and some of them are from those that wish to white knight my condition.  Everyone needs to cut out their tongues and these words.  I am a demon.  I am created in God’s image and it is my choice as to whether I will live or die by this condition.  The choices I make determine my humanity, not the warbling of the social justice movements seeking to make saints out of the condemned.

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