Tell me doctor (part 1)

From a reader:


I was born close to twenty-five years ago to a nice, inexperienced, young couple. I am told I was an average baby, behaviorally speaking. Except, before I was six months of age, I was diagnosed with a congenital cardiovascular condition. This placed me on the operating table in a nothing less than immediate timing. (Hereby why I suspect any attachment disorder and aspd just about equally.) My mother tends to repeat the tale of the aftermath, which obviously made an impression on her. How as they visited me, while in intensive care, my infant self, awake, turned away from them and did not give into any gestures of affection.

In my early years, I noticed, and this from personal memory, that I had no real connection to my parents. Or anyone, for that matter. Sure, they were my parents but, I was still in some separate, parallel existence. Needless to say, I never spoke of this perception to them, or anyone else. In fact, this poor excuse of a letter might be the first time I let anyone on my little dark "secret". I don't mind it though. If anything, it's like lazily tossing a pillow.

As a child, I saw the people around me, especially and most specifically adults, play make-believe in a continuum, inescapable game. I saw it all as hypocritical and obnoxious nonsense. Then, the predicted reactions came along, "Why should I play along?" et cetera. By the time I was in kindergarten, I'd already decided to keep the peace. To play along. With my immediate group, at least. My family.

Family. There goes an interesting concept on its own.

Unknown to her, I've never had a relationship with my mother. If anyone were to ask her, I'm sure she'd say the exact opposite. Which is fine by me. It keeps the peace, as said. With my father, it was a whole different story. If I could ever call anyone a "friend", for whatever I might consider a friend to be, if I was ever "close" to anyone at all, it was him.

Somehow, and this I can't explain, I think he saw me for what I was. Whatever that may be. Therefore, and because he was my father and acted the role to the letter, I could be myself with him. There would be no overreaction. No questioning. Regardless of what I did, this without passing judgement simply because of our ties, he accepted me. I'm not sure if he understood me, thoroughly, though there was a certain willingness for that too, but there was acceptance. In addition to this objectiveness from his part. I could sense it, at arm's length, now and then. Not overly abrasive nor cold. Simply, objective.

That distant relationship was the best thing I could possibly ask for, if I had ask for anything at all. Though I knew, somehow, it was abnormal. Which, again, was fine with me.

One thing that has recently made wonder about this father and offspring companionship is the memory of those odd bits from my already unorthodox childhood. I remember being cruel to some of our house pets. In both occasions, my father was present.

I cannot say what made me do it, nor why didn't he just stop me, or applied some sort of punishment for my behavior. He did not. He didn't stop me from shoving toilet paper down that puppy's throat, or from beating my 'favorite' cat while in bed. Both actions were spontaneous. I never planned on being cruel. I never even thought about doing anything of the sort. But I did it. Out of nowhere came those two-inch, discorporated fists of mine. And I say Discorporated due to the lack of proper wording to what happened. 

Without trying to sound textbook, I can sincerely tell you that I felt nothing. That is precisely why I remember things clearly. Maybe too clear for my taste. 

My father did not say "stop" or "this is wrong". He simply watched and, before things escalated, with some twisted humor (I took it as such anyway), he'd say something like, "Poor cat." Then, I'd stop and try to figure out why was the cat "poor"? It wasn't necessarily a question but, my job was to understand why he'd say something like that. Why should I feel bad for the cat? I saw it as a lesson. I couldn't say if that's what he attempted to do, I never asked, but that's what I got from it.

Hello kitty

A reader referred this blog to me from another self proclaimed sociopath. It has a few interesting entries. As always, I can’t be completely sure whether someone else is or is not a sociopath. This entry in particular however, humorously displays the thought processes of the lazier sociopath pretty well:

Here..kitty kitty

There's a cat stuck in the cellar. I wonder how many days it will last. I hear it every night mewing away. At first I thought it was a woman moaning or crying but no it was just a cat. I know the correct thing to do would be to tell the owner and have them do something but I owe rent and it's really too much of a hassle. I am the only one who can hear it, in time the noise will fade and when the smell kicks in, I'll let them know. For now though I just have to grin and bear the nuisance of having a dying cat in the cellar.

Sociopaths in the news

I was never a cat lover, either.

When police asked Weinman what tools would be needed to commit the cat killings, he responded, "I don't know, but I'm sure they are very well hidden," the documents state. When asked how the cats could have been captured, he responded, "They have to be either tranquilized or poisoned."

But Weinman's lawyer said none of the evidence directly connects his client to the crimes.

"It's really important to note that there's not one single witness in there that says Tyler Weinman touched a cat," said the attorney, David Macey.

Prosecutor Elijah Levitt said the affidavit "speaks for itself."

In one interview with police, the teenager reportedly became excited when he described a "tearing sound" when skin is ripped from a cat's body during dissections, according to the documents. But a high school teacher told investigators that no such noise occurs when cats that are dissected in a classroom setting because of the way the bodies are prepared.

After consulting with staff doctors in the Miami-Dade Police Department's psychological services section, detectives concluded that Weinman fit the profile of a sociopath.

Macey called it "junk science," and said it will be proven false.