Graduating to every other week therapy

I've never been to summer camp. The closest I got to the experience was sixth grade camp, when as an 11 year old I went up to the mountains (snow! cold!) with all of my classmates for a week. I still have so many vivid memories of it. Everything I know about recognizing constellations I learned there, camp songs, a love/hate relationship to the hot dog, making snow survival shelters (we surely would have died if actually required to live in ours) and what seemed to be the startling amount of trust and freedom I enjoyed in leaving my family and any real responsible adult supervision and running amok in the mountains with a 15 to 1 ratio of camp counselors (barely more than children themselves) to children, and with knives and other sharp tools. Even though it was just a week, I came back from camp a changed person. Not to say that the person I was before was bad or even that I needed to change in that particular way in order to mature. Nor to say that the person I changed into was any less me than the person before. It's hard to describe the sensation, but whatever it was I was ok with it because for whatever reason I still recognized the person I became.

I recently graduated from every week therapy to every other week therapy. The change was precipitated by me reaching and maintaining a certain level of awareness and understanding about myself, other people, and the world. I feel the difference, but I also don't feel that different. I recognize who I am. I just feel more proficient, like if I had always been only a music sight reader and then finally learned how to play by ear, or vice versa. And naturally I understand the world in a more fuller and richer way, simply because now I engage with it in more ways than I did previously. Everyone has a blindspot. That was always my special talent to know growing up. Now I know better my own.

The most interesting development has been my more nuanced view of self. How is it that I am the same person I was as a too-aggressive child, a manipulative teenager, a scheming young adult, a risk-taking 30 something, and now someone who has graduated to every other week therapy. But even odder to realize is that during the periods that I was "truest" to "myself", those were when I was most engaged and satisfied by life, no matter my financial situation or family situation or anything else that may have been weighing me down in the world at large. It turned out it wasn't the fact that I was born/made a sociopath that caused most of my problems. It was actually my ill-informed adaptations to the world that I had picked up along the way that made my heart shrink and blacken. Some of you will understand what I mean and I apologize for not being able to explain better, but it was the societal emphasis and rewards based almost solely on appearances, end results, and bottom lines that created all of the wrong incentives -- versus a focus on the process over the outcome and learning through making mistakes = ok and understanding that society will (and must) adapt to you sometimes, it can't always be you adapting to it, and how to know when is when and what is what. Self-awareness about my sociopathic tendencies didn't make me better, it made me worse as I came to internalize how unpalatable that was in society. That's when my behavior became so aggressive, passive, hollow, desperate, and impotent. That's when I started wearing masks basically all of the time. Sayonara to my sense of self. I may have hurt others a little less but it was accomplished by hurting myself much more. Because I could always fit square pegs into round holes, even if it got a little ugly and I got dirty doing it. And it felt like that was the solution -- that was what was being asked of me as part of my faustian deal to make things go down easier for me, to avoid having to deal with any negativity or fall out based on anyone's disapproval.

But now I wonder, what to say to everyone? How do I respond to people who email me? How can I communicate this adequately to others so that they won't make the same mistake -- won't wait until there are decades of barnacles of garbage encrusting them, until they finally cease being recognizable to themselves, before they realize that who they are is not a problem that needs fixing. I want my little relatives to know this, you all, anyone who also will wonder about the meaning of the lyrics to Landslide or wonder what does it feel like to keep living (and most paradoxically keep changing) after you feel like you've finally discovered who you really are. To know how to resonate with this life, both so maddeningly static and so dynamic. And to learn what one must never, never sacrifice, even just to get by, even if it seems like that is what is being required of you to do. 

Auteur

A friend recently called me an auteur. She meant that I seem to do things my own particular way, "you are so essentially you. You have such an M.E. signature. You leave an M.E. wake." It's interesting to think about it in those terms, it made me curious about the definition and origin of the word auteur, "an artist whose style and practice are distinctive." Literally meaning "author," it originated as a way to distinguish certain filmmakers whose unique style and artistic vision pervades their films, despite the many other participants in the process. Those filmmakers are the "author" of their films in ways that most filmmakers simply are not, due to lack of control or influence.

I wondered, if I am an auteur of my life, than what is my distinctive signature? I don't feel particularly definite, particularly rigid, or concrete in my beliefs or personality characteristics. My friend is right in that I do happen to have a set of preferences, though, and my choices always reflect those preferences. Although some of those preferences line up with decisions that others based on morality, I wouldn't say that it is a moral code anymore than you could say that Woody Allen's films are uniquely his due to his particular moral code, although it certainly would have some influence.

I don't know how I acquired my value system. I imagine that every aspect of it was once a choice, although it has been so long since I made those choices that I have long since forgotten how or why they were made, or even the very fact of a choice being made in most cases. I guess I just chose to be the way I am because I preferred it over all other options, at least at the time. There's nothing objectively hierarchical about my choices, no inherent judgment as to the choices of others. It's just what happened to happen due to a confluence of events (and genetics).

Recently I was flying over wooded areas demarcated by winding rivers. I wondered at the lack of logic that informed the flow of these rivers. Some of their path was obvious, avoid a hill here, follow a low land there, but some of it was absolutely random. I wondered at the initial water drop that moved in one particular direction over another, making a bend in the river. Maybe a little pebble forced it one way instead of the other, maybe even something as transient as the foot of an animal. The moment before was a universe of possibilities in which the water could have gone any number of directions. After, the cohesiveness of water molecules combined with the ease of repetition meant that every other water molecule would follow suit, self-reinforcing ad infinitum until the universe of possibilities added up to exactly one result.

We talk a lot here about what certain things must mean about a person. If you look at the end product without analyzing the process, you might be tempted to infer any number of different "truths" about a person, project any number of generalizations based on your own experiences, despite how paltry they are when compared to the universe of possibilities. The truth is that human behavior so often defies definition and explanation that any attempt to take such a pursuit seriously seems ill-fated and ignorant. I have been realizing lately that this futility in achieving real understanding applies equally (if not more so) to attempts at acquiring self-knowledge.

In other words, the more I learn about myself, the more I realize how little I know about everything.

Dealing with mental illness

I really enjoyed this interview between schizophrenic and author Eleanor Longden and author of The Psychopath Test: A Journey Through the Madness Industry Jon Ronson, which is worth reading in its entirety. She talks about how the first voice in her head was just narrating what she happened to be doing, and in some ways she found it calming:

[W]hat research suggests is that voice-hearing (and other unusual experiences, including so-called delusional beliefs) are surprisingly common in the general population. This recognition has led to the popularity of 'continuum models' of mental health, which suggests different traits and experiences are all part of human variation – not strictly categorical in terms of "us and them", "sane and insane", "normal and abnormal". However, I do think life events play a vital role in determining who becomes distressed and overwhelmed and who doesn't. This might include experiences of abuse, trauma, inequality, powerlessness and so on, but it can also include the immediate reactions of the people around you. If you don't have people who will accommodate your experiences, support you, and help you make sense of what's happening, then you're probably much more likely to struggle.

And she wasn't supported or accommodated, instead her friend flipped out, followed by her psychiatrist, until she was institutionalized and the voices got much worse.

[My psychiatrist] really made me feel like a walking inventory of symptoms. This forensic-like scrutiny grew to feel very frightening and de-stabilizing, and was basically sending the message that the only relevant thing about me was my deficits. Not my strengths, not my abilities or resources, just my Bad Brain. I was eventually admitted to hospital (voluntarily), and the impact of that was disastrous because it sealed my perception of myself from someone who was confused, unhappy and frightened into someone with an uncontrollable, carnivorous mental illness. Eventually, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. The voices (which by this time had multiplied and become much more aggressive) were witheringly contemptuous about this: "You can't even SPELL schizophrenia," one of them said, "So what the hell are you going to do about having it?!"

How did she find her way back?

I don't think there was a single, defining turning point, more an accumulation and fusion of positive changes. Primarily, I was very fortunate to have people who never gave up on me – relationships that really honoured my resilience, my worth and humanity, and my capacity to heal. I used to say that these people saved me, but what I now know is that they did something even more important: they empowered me to save myself. My mum, for example, had an unconditional belief that I was going to come back to her and was willing to wait for me for as long as it took. I also met an amazing psychiatrist, who absolutely didn't subscribe to the idea of me as 'schizophrenic' – or any other label for that matter. "Don't tell me what other people have told you about yourself," he would say, "Tell me about you." 

This led her to a period of profound self-acceptance:

For the first time, I had an opportunity to try and see my voices as meaningful – messages and metaphors about emotional problems in my life – and in turn begin to relate to them more peacefully and productively. I began to understand the voices (as well as my other experiences, like self-injury, anxiety, and paranoid beliefs) in a more compassionate way. Not as symptoms, rather as adaptations and survival strategies: sane reactions to insane circumstances. The voices took the place of overwhelming pain and gave words to it – memories of sexual trauma and abuse, rage, shame, loss, guilt and low self-worth. Probably the most important insight was when I realised that the most menacing, aggressive voices actually represented the parts of me that had been hurt the most – and as such, it was these voices that needed to be shown the greatest compassion and care. Which of course ultimately represented learning to show compassion, love, and acceptance towards myself.
***
But primarily it was when I stopped attacking and arguing with them, and began to try and understand them, and relate to them more peacefully. It was about putting an end to the internal civil war I mentioned earlier, because each of them was part of a whole – me! I would thank them for drawing my attention to conflicts I needed to deal with. I remember one very powerful moment, several years down the line, when I said something like, "You represent awful things that have happened to me, and have carried all the memories and emotion because I couldn't bear to acknowledge them myself. All I've done in return is criticize and attack you. It must have been really hard to be so vilified and misunderstood." There was an immensely long pause before one of them finally responded: "Yes. Thank you."

I found myself relating a lot to this last part -- part of learning to deal with any mental issues is a self-acceptance of yourself, your strengths, and your weaknesses. We all have what Carl Jung called the Shadow, parts of our personality that we would rather not acknowledge about ourselves. But in order for us to become whole, self-actualized human beings, we must not only acknowledge these aspects, but embrace them (see The Tools: 5 Tools to Help You Find Courage, Creativity, and Willpower--and Inspire You to Live Life in Forward Motion for some help on how).

Like most people, I used to ignore my shadow +90% of the time and the other part of the time I became the monster I was afraid I truly was. When I finally cared enough to get better, I knew I couldn't keep doing this, flipping back and forth between the projected-ideal-me and the indulging-every-bad-impulse me. The truth was that both those versions of myself were a distortion, and until I could acknowledge and accept the real me, any changes that I made would be superficial and not-lasting. I saw this same transition in the last season of Dexter, where he finally acknowledges that the "dark passenger" he always blamed for his killing impulse was really just a part of him that he had long ago alienated, and later personified as an external entity. People want me to feel shame for who I am, I can tell. But I'm not going to, because it would make me a much worse person (see also Ted Bundy).

Nobody chooses to be who they are. We make choices and we can define ourselves by our choices if we choose, but there will always be people defining us by other things, including things that we didn't ask for and cannot help. We can't do anything about that either. We just do the best we can and that has to be good enough. As Longden said:

I last heard voices yesterday. They were repeating something I'd read on the internet. The comment was: "I'm going to spoil the ending for you. The ending is – everything's going to be great!"

The hard way

I've realized recently that I go through cycles of liking to do things the easy way or the hard way. I almost quit music in secondary school (I wasn't particularly talented), but I ended up majoring in it at university because it was the most challenging thing that I could be doing at the time and I enjoyed the thought of turning a weakness into a strength. I eventually tired of the struggle so when I left music I chose law because I did well on the law school admission test, so I figured I was well suited for it. At that point in my life, I didn't want to bother with my weaknesses, only capitalize on my strengths. Since then I've alternated between focusing on either my weakness or strengths, maybe every few years or so.

Most understand the appeal of the easy way, but doing things the hard way has its own value (and Thoreau?). The Swedes understand this. Although most Swedes have access to some sort of cottage or summer home, many of these homes intentionally do not have indoor plumbing, an attempt to be closer to nature. I spent some time there with a friend and she much preferred cooking up a porridge on the side of the road with a camp stove, or a soup on the deck of a ferry, to anything remotely more convenient. Even though my visit was on the tail end of summer in the chilly Arctic Circle, she insisted that part of the experience of any trip was to sleep outside whenever possible. We would go days without using a normal toilet, much less shower. I was sometimes tempted to put my foot down and insist that we take advantage of modern amenities and conveniences for a change, but I didn't. And even though I have been on much more comfortable and more exotic trips, this one has remained my favorite I think largely because it required struggle. It required me to be resourceful and more actively engaged in every moment of the trip, whereas waking up in crisp hotel sheets and stumbling down the hall to a buffet breakfast required no thought at all. The former meant living every minute and the latter invited passivity and complacency, it's own sort of (worse) struggle.

When I first started writing the blog, it was in an effort to understand why my life seemed to self-destruct every few years. I thought maybe finding the reason why might keep it from happening again, but I seem to like to struggle. There's something rewarding about doing things the hard way, at least for now. And as artist Chuck Close said:

Get yourself in trouble. If you get yourself in trouble, you don’t have the answers. And if you don’t have the answers, your solution will more likely be personal because no one else’s solutions will seem appropriate. You’ll have to come up with your own. It's always wrong before it's right.” 

Sociopath quote: self-knowledge

The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for.

-- Oscar Wilde

A personal SW journey

From a reader:


With the retro posts I've been looking back at some of my old posts and comments in the sociopathworld archives.  I've been baffled by some of my posts, and many have brought me to the point of laughing out  loud. Ah, so young, so naive. I can't help but muse to how my mind worked when I first came to sociopathworld and the stubbornness with which I persisted. And today I realized, I remind myself of so many people who come in here now. Misguided, misinformed, or holding onto presumptions. I was younger, admittedly, which I use as an excuse to myself for what silly ideas I held, but it made me think of the benefits of staying at sociopathworld.

When I arrived at this place, like many people on here I was questing for my identity, sifting among labels, and identifying with every ailment. I'd call myself a sociopath. Then I deviated from that and just sort of accepted I wasn't sure what I was, and I didn't care. I was battered around like so many mice in a cat's paws, but I was delusional and resilient, and able to see the value in the many perspectives in this place. I'm still wandering around in search of answers, feeling something like a lost child, as if I never grow. And yet when I see the progress I have made in my understandings and my beliefs, I feel I have grown more than I would've imagined possible on first coming to sociopathworld.  I look back and see how much I have changed in what I know and understand by the damage I have taken and persisted through. It's as if I've gotten to the top of a path and looked down at the hill I've climbed, and I feel suddenly shocked I've made it so high and far. The coldness of this place has helped me to move past so many silly ideals I was clinging to. "Good triumphs over evil, in all things! The system works for you, and is there to protect you... and mainly, it works! God will protect you! Martyrs are good people! Drug dealers are bad!" It's like a dream the rest of the world lives in that one day you just wake up from.  So many beliefs have been shattered, not just by this place, admittedly, but this place has really helped me to understand and move past these beliefs. I've come to see the world more realistically, and grown past the childish values instilled in me by an idealistic world. I can see so clearly my faults, and the things I must move past. Ideas I would never have dreamed were a hindrance I now see as a weight, tainting my perspective, and blinding my actions. 

Though it seems daunting, and extremely harsh upon first entering sociopathworld, the value of the honesty you will receive at this place is something you will not be able to get from anywhere else in the world. The lies you will here in response to the questions you ask will weigh your decisions, and though you will be blissful, you will be ignorant. And if that is a price you are willing to pay, than leave when the people here tell you what you don't want to hear. "He's cheating on you", or "he doesn't care about you" or "you're not a sociopath" or any other number of typical answers to typical questions. Wanting to believe the fairy tales you've been told your whole life doesn't make them any truer. But lingering among the wolves will show you how to use your talons in the harsh world outside. 

Buddhism = healing from a sociopath

More on Buddhism, this time a reader recommends Buddhism as a way to come to terms with a broken relationship with a sociopath:


Well, ME, two and half years post end of sociopathic relationship, I am finally coming to terms with it all.

I'm writing to you because maybe you'll post this and give some guidance to those recovering from a relationship with a sociopath.

Really, Buddhism is the way to go post-recovery.  You need to get control of your thoughts and yourself.  There is no other way.

Buddhism will teach you to let go of all of the anger, resentment, shock, and surprise at their treatment of you.  Meditation will teach you to stop the negative thought spirals implanted by them (and carried on by you, of course).  You must do this with focused effort.  

Buddhism will teach you to view the sociopath as a teacher, and to be grateful for them.  If this relationship is used correctly, it will make you a wiser, more compassionate, and give you a greater sense of your own agency.  It will make you take care of yourself like you never have before.

So, yes, sociopaths do a service, ME.  They are true predators - they cull the weak from the herd, and make those who escape grow stronger.  In recovery you have to ask - which one do you want to be?