The Catalyst Within

I ended therapy for the time being.  The sessions as of late were incredibly one-sided, with my drive to change problematic behaviors nearing zero.  Therapy is only effective if the person receiving therapy is open to change.  Right now, I’m struggling to make it from day to day, dealing with the unforgiving assault of organic and environmental depression.  I could change things.  I could find activities and mantras that would help ease the pain that I live with currently.  I could reduce my chain smoking and disdain for my health.  I could change many things.  However, I do not wish to at this time.  I suppose on some level, chaos and a slow death is working for me, and until I come around, there is simply no point in wasting my therapist’s time or that of my own.  All of this parallels the decision psychopaths have to make regarding their behaviors.  If there is no desire to rein in one’s destructive behaviors, then no amount of coaching or analysis showing the benefits of such will resonate.  A psychopath has free will, of course, but she must choose wisely when it comes to using that free will.  She can choose to be a force of destruction, leaving lives – including her own – in the wake, or she can channel her energy into adapting to the mold that society requires.  Ultimately, this decision lies solely with her.

My life is cyclical.  Three years ago, when I was first confronted with a confirmation of psychopathy, I lashed out.  I sought to “prove” the confirmation and to honor myself in the most obnoxious way possible.  Never mind that I had honored myself for the nearly thirty years preceding such a confirmation, all I could care about was honing my skills to the maximum.  I would eventually mellow out – in no small part due to therapy – and return to a restrained state, but now I find that I am as receptive to change presently as I was three years ago – namely, not very receptive at all.  These days I may not be out to ruin the lives of others, but I am certainly on a path to ruining my own.  My interpersonal relationships are as unstable as they have ever been.  The level of self-care that I engage in is minimal.  I am trying to harden myself beyond the galvanized plate that I already wear.  The difference now is that I am not under the guidance of a therapist and I am floundering about in my own chaotic way.

There are facets of life in which restraint must be shown.  A person must seek to behave properly when surrounded by society, and he must seek the same when he is not.  I may be mostly prosocial toward others in the present, but my unwillingness to be prosocial toward myself will undoubtedly cause my skeleton to crack.  There are no silver bullets that will return me to a healthier path, just as there are no magic words that will cause the psychopath to realize the danger of her unhinged ways.  There has to be a catalyst within.  I’ve lost mine – if I ever had it to begin with – and now I drift dangerously alone toward uncharted seas.  I suppose that one day I will reach back out to my therapist, but that time does not seem that it will come soon.  I don’t believe in “rock bottom” as a mechanism for change – as it is terribly cliche – but I suppose there will be some external force, as a result of my inaction, that returns me to her care.  Change only comes to those that want it; right now I do not want it.

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