Acknowledging yourself

I got a lot of emails from people with sociopathic tendencies or other personality disorders asking me what to do about re-connecting with their sense of self. I kind of don't know how I did it, because it was mainly my therapist guiding me through it? But I thought that this article -- How to Become Yourself -- described it in a generally accurate way, particularly re the uncertainty and time and energy required:

Becoming yourself is hard. In theory it’s easy. You do it by looking very closely at the person that you’ve been, digging out bad behaviors by the root and by letting go of anything that holds you back. It’s hard because the You of Before will make a fuss, it won’t give itself up easy. It has gotten used to not doing the good and terrifying things that make life extraordinary. It wants to stay put, it wants to stay shadowed and safe and out of sight. Even once you’ve decided that you want to be different, want to be braver and more yourself, it doesn’t happen at once.

You take the first few steps and think you’ll just keep going like that until it’s done and you’re changed and everything’s better and you feel whole. But it’s not like that. You take a step, you pause. You agonize, try to go back the way you came–find the road blocked, find in some cases it’s gone completely and ahead is something you can’t yet contemplate going towards. You hang stricken in empty space, between states, between the way you’ve been and the way you’re going to be. Between almost-happy-but-not-quite-happy and beyond, to somewhere great, somewhere where it’s not necessary to ask Is this it? Is this all there is?

It’s like in werewolf movies, one self is not big enough to hold the other, more monstrous self. In your case it’s not a monster, but a bigger and more lethal you that comes bursting out of its old way of being. Don’t be afraid of this. It’s okay to be lethal in the ways you fight for your life. Be lethal in your demands for joy, respect, progress. Step out of what is used up and useless, be lethal and unmoved in your certainty that there is peace ahead. But how to get there?
***
By slowing down
We end up in so many shitty situations by not thinking things through, by not recognizing the pull of our own toxic behaviors or the tell-tale signs that someone is bad news and won’t to leave us better than when they found us. Take a minute. Follow the map back. In the past you did this, then this, then this, and ended up here, without anything. Nod like you’ve discovered something, even if you’re just as confused. Decide in the future to buy a new map, and mark with an X places where you are celebrated. Where you’re safe and happy and strong. These are the places most worth visiting. Go to them as often as possible.

By learning to be by yourself and for yourself
It seemed clear growing up that the only way to experience love was to surrender to it. Put up your hands and step off the edge. Be consumed, or else you’re not doing it right. Be captured, or else what’s the point? Be eaten whole by it. Two life changing heartbreaks down the line and I’m starting to think it isn’t true. Because good love’s not a dinosaur. It’s an exchange of light, it’s two people doing right by one another again and again and again until the last time they speak. That’s what I think anyway and I’ve seen at least two cartoons on the subject.
***
By being better
You cannot be a better, gentler you until you start doing better, gentler things. I don’t mean you have to brush a unicorn’s hair or tuck a snake into bed. But you do have to tread more lightly through your life. You have to make calm and brave decisions about what you would like to happen and you have to take the appropriate actions to make those things most likely. Life is a choose-your-own-adventure. Will I be something? Answer yes. Will I end up where I’m supposed to be? Answer yes again, with as much conviction as you can manage. Will I be happy? Answer yes for the last time, as loudly as possible. But it’s haaaaaard. I know. But not forever. It will be easier. Eventually you’ll forget the way it was–the old ache of it; your heart quiet in its bed, your dreams dragging behind you like a tattered parachute. It will be good. You will be good.

I am aware that most people have either done this or have put off doing this for all sorts of reasons, so I am not sure who the target audience for this post is. But for those of you who have put it off but are still considering doing it, maybe just a quick endorsement from me that it's difficult and it's uncomfortable and even painful to own certain parts of yourself, and things often get uglier and more sideways before they get any better. But it is a really stable, safe, happy, and powerful place to be. There's a sort of confidence in knowing that you're living a life of integrity that is even more powerful and secure than the confidence the sociopath manifests in not caring about anything. (See also Montaigne on this subject) So it's worth it, in my opinion. Although if you do try it, I think it's best to be super committed to it, otherwise you might end up in a worse off position. 

How identity changes behavior (part 1)

I thought this conversation with a reader was a good illustration of what effects a sense of identity (or lack of) has on behavior. From a reader:

Thank you for your excellent blog and lovely book. I started reading the blog a few months ago and finished your book a few weeks ago.

Though I've never been diagnosed with any form of disorder I recognise myself in what you're writing. I've always known that I was different but until I started reading your blog I didn't realise how I'm different.

The first time I actually realised the extent of my odd-ness I was 16. There was this girl who went to the same class as me, we were friends growing up and we lived in the same street. When she was 13-14 or so she turned a bit wild and we weren't really friends after that. I just found her nasty and disgusting. When she was 16 she one night took a drug overdose and died and the next day in school we were told about it. I remember everyone being upset and crying except me. The only thing I though about it was that she had done the world a favour - after all she would probably have grown up living on benefits having loads of babies just like her mum and the rest of her family had turned out, so actually it saved us all the inconvenience of having to pay for it via our tax. And I couldn't understand why nobody else though of it like that - I really didn't understand why people seemed upset and kept crying. Later in the evening when my mum got home she asked me about it - and me at that stage not having realised how inappropriate those thoughts were in the eyes of most people - I said it straight out, exactly what I felt. I have never seen my mum reacting that way, although she of course knew I didn't really respond emotionally as most people (such as laughing at the movie Schindlers List aged 13 which made my teacher a bit nervous) she probably had not realised just how cold I actually am. My mum's face went pale and she didn't know what to say, she just stood frozen for a few minutes and then walked away and we have never discussed it again. And that was the moment I realised how different I am different from most people and I started censoring myself more.

Something I've been wondering about is your being Mormon. I've always been very interested in religion - quite randomly since my family is not religious at all. And I've always wished I was religious. I did my degree in Sociology of Religion and did very well - I was offered doing a PhD but after spending 5 years wearing the mask I had to get away and put on a new mask, so I moved abroad instead and now I live in London having a successful job. I therefore know more than most people about the LDS church and I kind of get what you mean that it is quite a sociopathic religion. I wish I could commit to a religion, I would probably choose Christianity (a desperate hope that even a cold hearted sociopath like me would be shown some mercy on the day of judgement?). And even though I can on an intellectual/philosophical level accept that there is a God - I simply can't motivate myself to follow it. Any attempts I have made to believe in God or practise a religion fails as I eventually loose interest in it. I guess it's because I struggle with long-term goals, I just can't motivate myself to do it when I don't see any result after a few weeks/month. I read your blog about how to break goals down to smaller pieces and I found it very useful. Do you think it's possible to do the same with religious goals? And in that case how? Because ultimately the rewards for religions is something beyond here and now, and even beyond this life. Would be very keen to know your thoughts.

My response: Interesting question. I have the added benefit of religion being pushed upon me by my family and little religious community, so that does make it easier. Maybe it would be best to start with what you believe. I know that is often hard for us to dig into, but I think that we (like everyone else) have beliefs that we aren't really aware of. Take for instance, some little thing that annoys you. Do this right after it happens. Mark a piece of paper with four columns. In the first, describe the situation. In the second, write the most irrational thought that you had as a result of this situation (e.g., this person doesn't deserve to live or I'm the best). Identify whether this belief seems to be related your conception of your own identity, your role in life (or your beliefs about the purpose of life), or your sense of individuality (not typical with sociopaths). In the third column, write down any personal conclusions, e.g. the other thoughts you had that weren't irrational. In the last, write down your reactions for these three categories: emotional, physical, mental, if any. Don't do this more than a couple of times per week. I think you will discover some beliefs that you didn't realize you had.  

Soft sociopathic traits

A lot emails that I receive from people describing their sociopathic traits strike me as being not quite placeable (nothing inconsistent with the diagnosis, but nothing really suggesting it either). This one seems to share a remarkable number of the "soft" sociopathic traits -- not quite in any textbook or diagnostic criterion, they are still traits that show up remarkably frequently in the sociopaths I have come to know. These soft traits include things like sexual fluidity, the particular instrumental way that charm is used, the obliviousness to certain things and hyper awareness at others.  From a reader:

As I’m sure since the subsequent publication of your book you receive these types of emails and attempts at correspondence daily, I will attempt to make this little stab at conversation short and sweet. Just a footnote here, I have no desire to exploit you and this is not an attempt to parallel our experiences. I suppose I am contacting you to relay some experiences of mine and perhaps receive some feedback.

My friend recently proposed the term, “sociopath” to me in passing conversation. I laughed off his name calling because I reasoned with myself: I grew up in a loving, stable environment, I have always had friends and significant others and I’ve always been keenly aware of my significance to them. I am not some brooding psychopath. I will admit here that I was unaware of the difference between “psycho” and “socio” and incorrectly found them mutually exclusive. However, the term “sociopath” sizzled in my brain for quite some time and I decided to delve into studying this alleged “disorder” and try to either self-diagnose or abandon the subject completely if it wasn't applicable to me. I reevaluated nearly every memory I can tap into and here’s just a sample of the conclusions I've come to:

By the age of 18, I had been arrested for assault, theft, and possession of criminal tools, vandalism, and a negligible complicity charge. At the various times of these altercations, I always was able to weasel my way out of the worst possible consequences. In my family’s eyes, I was a merely a victim of circumstance of hanging around the “wrong crowd” or being “scared, anxious” to be going away to college. At the time I think I believed those explanations myself. I have been in several altercations and what I refer to as “battles” with my family members often resulting in periods of estrangement with them.

Each one of my relationships throughout high school and my young adult life ended with a bang. The first ended in me cheating and spreading a rumor that my boyfriend had essentially taken advantage of me sexually. The second ended in cheating on my part as well and in a fiery battle with her parents that ended in a restraining order against me. The third was almost identical to the second. During these relationships, I would always befriend my significant other’s circle of friends and more often than not they all ended up liking me more than my girlfriend/boyfriend. I never felt particularly attached to my boyfriends or girlfriends, I always felt like, “well, I’m young, I don’t have to care about them or take these relationships seriously.” I have always identified as a bisexual. I like the differences between sexes and have never been able to adequately identify with one or the other. I am sexually fluid. This has always stirred confusion with those who have been in relationships with me and I've often heard they feel threatened by everyone around me, male or female.

Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I was considered above average. I was and still am an avid reader and consider myself to be fluent in many musical instruments. I excelled in every activity I tried, guitar, drums, English, horseback riding, swimming, and softball. Music became somewhat of an obsession for me and I have become integrated in an underground community of musicians. I won several awards in academics and was able to attain a generous scholarship to a school I couldn’t otherwise afford. My family is exceedingly proud of me and I have always known I was the “favorite” to my various grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

I began waitressing at a small diner at the age of 16. I charmed my way into the hearts of many customers who still contact me after transferring to a different store several hours away. I consider myself to be the ideal employee, by befriending upper management and kissing a little ass I am mostly free to do as I please without consequence. However, I have managed to get approximately 5 people fired and dozens written up.  

You’re probably wondering why I failed to pick up on these things earlier or even realize how “abnormal” I am. The only explanation I can come up with is that maybe that’s just how the emotional and physical world naturally occurs in my mind. My “normal” is just maybe a variance on the society’s perceived notion of normalcy. I could go on forever but again, I am lazy. I realized rather quickly how much I assume the role of “sociopath” by textbook definition and although I have statistically come into contact with many sociopaths, you are the only one I have found to be formally diagnosed and have a way to contact.

Identity

A sociopath-leaning reader asked, "How are you able to determine your true self? Your true interests, your true you and not just a collection of identities you've worn?" My answer:

Good question. I guess I don't really expect there to be some underlying true me. I am partly my experiences. I am even more so my thoughts. I see my identity as being more a formula, less the numbers that get plugged in, and especially not the result of the formula. I am the way I perceive the world, the way I choose what I decide. Does that work for you? I know it's nice to think that you are someone or something definable. I call this the Harry Potter syndrome, people who want more than anything else to have some strange white bearded old man show up to their door and say -- don't worry, there's a reason why you are different, it's because you're a wizard, and not only are you a wizard, but you're a celebrity. Don't we all wish that we had that sort of defining purpose to our life. But we don't, I'm afraid. And those people that aren't like us are largely just amalgamations themselves. Or maybe you believe this: "People often say that this or that person has not yet found himself. But the self is not something one finds, it is something one creates." Thomas Szasz

Reader's response:

I appreciate your well-reasoned response. Your example of the Harry Potter syndrome is right-on. I have always been unable to really grasp the Western culture, and especially American culture, desperate need to be succinctly defined, for their need to be truly unique, and their love of the ostentatious. For a while I thought my problem with the "masks" was that I never felt like their was a significant purpose and I have never been able to believe in a god or the other supernatural, though I did play the religious role quite well when I was a wee one.

Fictional sociopaths: Tom Ripley

A reader sent me a movie clip with this description:

Also, here’s another video that I always resonated with. It’s John Malkovich’s portrayal of Tom Ripley in Ripley’s Game. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen that movie, but it’s nicely done. You could say Ripley’s game boils down to manipulating what had been a relatively innocent man into committing murder. In fact, the scene starts right after they’ve killed several mobsters on a train. They got off the train and are in a station restroom (the relevant part starts at 3:40 and ends at about 5:10). “The one thing I know is we are constantly being born.” Very true indeed, truer than most people realize.


[Ripley has just helped Jonathan kill three mobsters]

Jonathan Trevanny: [crying] I know I should thank you, because I wouldn't be alive now if you hadn't helped me.... but I can't. I can't say thank you. I don't know anything about you. Who are you?

Tom Ripley: I'm a creation. A gifted improviser. I lack your conscience and, when I was young, that troubled me. It no longer does. I don't worry about being caught because I don't think anyone is watching. The world is not a poorer place because those people are dead — it's not. It's one less car on the road, a little less noise and menace. You were brave today. You'll go home and put some money away for your family. That's all.

Jonathan Trevanny: If you "lack my conscience," then why did you help me on the train?

Tom Ripley: [smiles] I don't know, but it doesn't surprise me. If there's one thing I know, it's that we're constantly being born.

Jonathan Trevanny: But why me? Why did you pick me?

Tom Ripley: Partly because you could. Partly because you insulted me. But mostly because that's the game. [checks watch] We need to catch this flight. Shall we?

John Malcovich's are some of the most convincing portrayals of a sociopath I've seen.

Parent to a sociopath (part 2)

While I was watching We Need to Talk About Kevin, I thought several times about Andrew Solomon's book Far From the Tree, in which he writes about outlier children (i.e. children who are quite different from their parents, e.g. deafness, dwarfism, disability, genius, criminality, etc.). He discusses the difficulties that such children present to their parents, who have hoped to see their own unfulfilled promise attained vicariously through the lives of their children, and the great disappointment that can accompany the realization that their child is not who they imagined he would be (via Brain Pickings):

In the subconscious fantasies that make conception look so alluring, it is often ourselves that we would like to see live forever, not someone with a personality of his own. Having anticipated the onward march of our selfish genes, many of us are unprepared for children who present unfamiliar needs. Parenthood abruptly catapults us into a permanent relationship with a stranger, and the more alien the stranger, the stronger the whiff of negativity. We depend on the guarantee in our children’s faces that we will not die. Children whose defining quality annihilates that fantasy of immortality are a particular insult; we must love them for themselves, and not for the best of ourselves in them, and that is a great deal harder to do. Loving our own children is an exercise for the imagination. … [But] our children are not us: they carry throwback genes and recessive traits and are subject right from the start to environmental stimuli beyond our control. 

The most directly applicable We Need to Talk About Kevin quote:

Having exceptional children exaggerates parental tendencies; those who would be bad parents become awful parents, but those who would be good parents often become extraordinary.

Solomon also looks at the unique struggles of children who are born to parents that do not share the same defining traits. He first identifies the distinction between vertical identities, those we inherit from our parents like ethnicity or religion, and horizontal identities:

Often, however, someone has an inherent or acquired trait that is foreign to his or her parents and must therefore acquire identity from a peer group. This is a horizontal identity. Such horizontal identities may reflect recessive genes, random mutations, prenatal influences, or values and preferences that a child does not share with his progenitors. Being gay is a horizontal identity; most gay kids are born to straight parents, and while their sexuality is not determined by their peers, they learn gay identity by observing and participating in a subculture outside the family. Physical disability tends to be horizontal, as does genius. Psychopathy, too, is often horizontal; most criminals are not raised by mobsters and must invent their own treachery. So are conditions such as autism and intellectual disability.

(A quick note, I think the reference to psychopaths is hilariously demonizing, especially given Solomon's great care to withhold normative judgments of "bad" or "good" for the other outlier characteristics he discusses. To illustrate, imagine if he had used a similar negatively slanted statement for gay horizontal identity "most kids are born to straight parents, so must invent their own perversion.")

Solomon, who actually is gay with straight parents (but apparently feels that he did not invent his own perversion, unlike sociopaths), came up with his theory on vertical and horizontal identity when he noticed that he shared common identity issues with deaf children of hearing parents:

I had been startled to note my common ground with the Deaf, and now I was identifying with a dwarf; I wondered who else was out there waiting to join our gladsome throng. I thought that if gayness, an identity, could grow out of homosexuality, an illness, and Deafness, an identity, could grow out of deafness, an illness, and if dwarfism as an identity could emerge from an apparent disability, then there must be many other categories in this awkward interstitial territory. It was a radicalizing insight. Having always imagined myself in a fairly slim minority, I suddenly saw that I was in a vast company. Difference unites us. While each of these experiences can isolate those who are affected, together they compose an aggregate of millions whose struggles connect them profoundly. The exceptional is ubiquitous; to be entirely typical is the rare and lonely state.

I have noticed (and mention in the book) that there has been a lot of push back on labeling people, particularly the pathologizing of more than half the population. How could it possibly be that fewer people in the population are normal than abnormal?! But which seems more plausible -- that we are all cookie cutter neurologically the same? Or that we are all on a bell curve of myriad different human traits, our particular blend making us both completely unique (we actually are neurologically all special snowflakes, it turns out) and yet share identifiable traits in common across the entire swath of humanity. And that's a good thing. Charles Darwin remarked on the great variety of the human species:

As the great botanist Bichat long ago said, if everyone were cast in the same mould, there would be no such thing as beauty. If all our women were to become as beautiful as the Venus de’ Medici, we should for a time be charmed; but we should soon wish for variety; and as soon as we had obtained variety, we should wish to see certain characteristics in our women a little exaggerated beyond the then existing common standard.

Despite the many advantages of diversity, many families (and society) tend to treat horizontal identities as disorders that we would hope to eventually eliminate from the species:

In modern America, it is sometimes hard to be Asian or Jewish or female, yet no one suggests that Asians, Jews, or women would be foolish not to become white Christian men if they could. Many vertical identities make people uncomfortable, and yet we do not attempt to homogenize them. The disadvantages of being gay are arguably no greater than those of such vertical identities, but most parents have long sought to turn their gay children straight. … Labeling a child’s mind as diseased — whether with autism, intellectual disabilities, or transgenderism — may reflect the discomfort that mind gives parents more than any discomfort it causes their child.

(Is Solomon correct here? I think there are actually a lot of people who think that white Christian men are superior to other races/genders/religions, gay people are an abomination, autistic and disabled people are a drain to scarce social resources (same for sociopaths), etc. And perhaps their beliefs are not wrong, or at least it would depend on what measuring stick and set of values you use to judge.)

But I don't think it's the labels that are harmful, necessarily. Indeed, labels can be a boon to all outsiders forming their own horizontal identities. Rather, the problem seems to be the xenophobic system of enforcing social norms that encourages expressions of repulsion and shaming at what is too foreign to be relatable, whether it is feelings of disgust regarding gay people (especially gay people who do not feel the need to hide or tone down their "gayness"), the practices of other cultures (especially things that our own western culture has outgrown, like arranged marriages and modest clothing for women), or the backwards beliefs of religious "cults" (whereas our own religious beliefs are seen as perfectly plausible and normal).

Finally, Solomon describes what eventually happens to the mother in We Need to Talk About Kevin (and a hopeful statement for all parents of sociopathic children):

To look deep into your child’s eyes and see in him both yourself and something utterly strange, and then to develop a zealous attachment to every aspect of him, is to achieve parenthood’s self-regarding, yet unselfish, abandon. It is astonishing how often such mutuality has been realized — how frequently parents who had supposed that they couldn’t care for an exceptional child discover that they can. The parental predisposition to love prevails in the most harrowing of circumstances. There is more imagination in the world than one might think.

Self-reference

Via exp.lore.com:

"In the end… We are self-perceiving, self-creating, locked-in mirages. We are miracles of self-reference."



Based on the ideas in Douglas Hofstadter’s 1979 classic Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid.

You are what you eat

I am very impressionable. I am so impressionable that the self that I call mine seems to be no more than a hodgepodge collection of everything I have thought, everything i have experienced, everyone I have been around. I used to be very reckless in my youth with what I did, what I chose, what I thought. I wanted to try everything and everyone, wanted to know what else was out there in the world. Everything I did changed me, though, for better or for worse. I didn't realize it at the time, and didn't really realize the extent of it until relatively recently. That thought has made me more circumspect.

I feel like this must be true of non sociopaths as well, but maybe to a lesser extent. Maybe they just don't acknowledge the inherent fluidity of the self? It's interesting to me to think that my body is made up of everything that I have eaten. There is literally nothing about my body that I haven't ingested at one time or another -- not my brain, not my heart, not my lungs, not my eyes or teeth... it's weird thinking that I am made up of cheeseburgers.

People want to know why sociopaths have a hard time letting go sometimes. Some of it may be the thrill of the hunt, the sting of defeat, or vindictiveness. I think for me it is mainly because everyone that has ever been close to me has become a part of me. Like that Paul Young song, every time they go away, they literally take a piece of me with them.

Pigeonhole diagnosis

Some people wonder why I want to be out at all -- if I am successfully passing and living a fulfilling life, why not just keep doing that? Part of me likes the fun and intrigue involved in my attempts to pass and the ability to hide in plain sight. Part of me is also resentful of the mental energy required for that task. I wonder what my life and brain would look like if I didn't feel compelled to mask certain things and constantly be putting on a show. If I've managed a certain level of success from without the system, what might I be able to accomplish within?

I was reading this Wired article by David Dobbs, author of the well-known article in the Atlantic comparing children to either Orchids or Dandelions (which are sociopath children? the answer may surprise you). In this article he discusses how our society treats those with mental illnesses, specifically schizophrenia:


A large  World Health Organization study, for instance, found that “Whereas 40 percent of schizophrenics in industrialized nations were judged over time to be ‘severely impaired,’ only 24 percent of patients in the poorer countries ended up similarly disabled.’ Their symptoms also differed, in the texture, intensity, and subject matter to their hallucinations or paranoia, for instance. And most crucially, in many cases their mental states did not disrupt their connections to family and society.

Watters, curious about all this, went to Zanzibar to see how all this worked. He learned that there, schizophrenia was seen partly as an especially intense inhabitation of spirits — bad mojo of the sort everyone had, as it were. This led people to see psychotic episodes  less as complete breaks from reality than a passing phenomena, somewhat as we might view, say, a friend or coworker’s intermittent memory lapses.

For instance, in one household Watters came to know well, a woman with schizophrenia, Kimwana,

was allowed to drift back and forth from illness to relative health without much monitoring or comment by the rest of the family. Periods of troubled behavior were not greeted with expressions of concern or alarm, and neither were times of wellness celebrated. As such, Kimwana felt little pressure to self-identify as someone with a permanent mental illness.

This was rooted partly in the idea of spirit possession already mentioned, and partly to an accepting fatalism in the brand of Sunni that the family practiced. Allah, they believed, would not burden any one person with more than she could carry. So they carried on, in acceptance rather than panic. As a result, this delusional, hallucinating, sometimes disoriented young woman passed into and out of her more disoriented mental states while still keeping her basic place in family, village, and work life, rather than being cast aside. Almost certainly as a result, she did not feel alienated, and her hallucinations did not include the sort of out-to-get-me kind that mark paranoid schizophrenics in the West.

This, writes Watters in enormous understatement, “stood in contrast with the diagnosis of schizophrenia as [used] in the West. There the diagnosis carries the assumption of a chronic condition, one that often comes to define a person.”


Of course I'm not stupid about wanting to out myself completely and without proper care. Dobbs goes on to describe the complete ostracizing of a Western schizophrenic from her friends and academic community upon her diagnosis. But I do wonder what effects struggling to conform to a particular societal standard of superficial normality has had on me. Perhaps I wonder so much because my family actually is really supportive, like the family of the woman Kimwana. I often credit their support for how I turned out, particularly their religious beliefs that I would not be burdened with more than I could carry. And so my sociopathy does not define me. I wonder if society were equally supportive, what a difference that might make?

Sociopaths = flexible sense of self, redux

Finally someone in the psychological community explicitly writes about the sociopath's elastic sense of self:

“In fact, most sociopathy involves an individual’s not having significantly developed, across the board, a general capacity to identify with things in the world. It is not just that he is lacking a strongly identified moral identity, he is likely lacking a strongly identified self identity almost altogether… His life is largely about a narcissistic satisfaction of desires, not an expression of autonomous valuated personal projects. It should be no surprise that the sociopath typically feels no qualms of lost integrity when he violates some generally accepted moral dictum. The issue here for him isn’t really specifically about a lack of internal response to some failed morality on his part. Rather, it’s about general self identity integrity just not being a question for him. If a person has no strong sense of self in general, then of course he will probably have no strong sense of lost integrity when he violates life projects which for the rest of us would be central parts of our self identities. In a nutshell, it’s not that the sociopath lacks moral integrity specifically; he lacks general self identity integrity, of which moral identity integrity is only a possible part. So a lack of, say, a moral conscience, isn’t really the central problem for the sociopath. What’s more at the heart of things is his lack of moral identification, along with the lack of any other significant life identifications.”

As I said before, many psychologists understand the “what” but not the “how.” The psychologist who wrote this, however, gets it just about right.

Modernity and self

A reader sent some of her thoughts and selections from her dissertation on modernity that I found to be interesting, particularly with regard to the modern conception of self.  I edited them, so I apologize if they have lost something in the process:

About the writer Katherine Mansfield: "She was like a lantern with many windows - not octagonal, but centagonal. Each friend had his or her window and Katherine gave generously, gave all to each one, of her light, through that window. That was why so many people thought they were, not just one of her friends, but her only friend. She did not give the lantern (Me, the writer of this post, as Katherine herself, believe there was no such unifying lantern) and no one could touch the flame - and if anything came too close she would withdraw or close the leaves".

Extract from the modernist Katherine Mansfield's "The Dove's House": The main character, about his little son: "a queer thing is I can´t connect him with my wife and myself - I've never accepted him as ours. Each time when I come into the hall and see the preambulator I catch myself thinking: H'm, someone has brought a baby!" And later on: "if the impermanent selves of my wife and me are happy - tant mieux pour nous (...) But I don´t know, I don´t know. And it may be that it's something entirely individual in me -this sensation (yes, it is even a sensation) of how extraordinarily shell-like we are as we are - little creatures, peering out of the sentry-box at the gate, ogling through our glass case at the entry, wan little servants, who never can say for certain, even, if the master is out or in (...)".

Katherine Mansfield herself: "Coleridge on Hamlet. "He plays that subtle trick of pretending to act when he is very near being what he acts"... So do we all begin by acting and the nearer we are to what we would be the more perfect our desguise. Finally here comes the moment when we are no longer acting; it may even catch us by surprise. We may look in amazement at our no longer borrowed plumage. The two have merged; that which we put on has joined that which was; acting has become action. The soul has accepted this livery for its own after a time of trying on and approving (...) And the Hamlet is lonely. The solitary person always acts". 

And then you've got the anthropologist René Girard, who bases his whole theory on the idea that Humanity desperately NEEDS identity, and has an innate fear of indiferentiation (aka lack of a well differenced personal identity), giving totally crazy examples like the fear of twins in many cultures. People saw them as a subconscious menace to DIFFERENCE, and so a personification of chaos (they apparently used to sacrifice them). Chaos leading to violence. So lack of identity, or indifference, leads to  violence in human societies. A socio with no identity is a potential danger. A normal person with no identity is a potential danger. The problem is that we do find trouble in defending the SELF nowadays. Hard work if you really have some sincere insight. Tell it to Nietzche and all the others forerunners of the unexisting reliable self. 

Simone Weil also said: "I see the world as if I were not in it." this type of distance supreme and contemplation, which is in the antipodes of indifference, perhaps looking at the infinite and original world and man's purity and of which we have grown wary? This is an effort to free the world from the opaqueness of our presence, of that barrier between the object and a clean, truthful eye.

And then you've got that in modern writers:
From Katherine Mansfield:

"... a self which is continuous and permanent; which... thrusts a scaled bud through years of darkness until, one day, the light discovers it and shakes the flower free and - we are alive-  we are flowering for our moment upon the earth. This is the moment which, after all, we live for - the moment of direct feeling when we are most ourself and least personal". 

I could go on and on... We are playing on the league of the great thinkers of last century as well as our own. I'm sick of it. I wish I had been born an uber-empath in some hidden village of France five hundred years ago. A cow to milk, a husband to love and an early dead. 

Or I wish I was a little less pretty: less power, less thrill for life, a boring, early, happy marriage, and (fingers crossed) and EARLY DEAD. 

About me? (part 2)

I responded:

This is very interesting.  I also never fill these sections out (or the offline equivalent) if I can help it.  Sometimes I'll put one or two things there, just to not seem like a total creeper.  I try to avoid any personal information.  Part of it is intentional -- less is more when the purpose of those types of sites is for people interested in you to stalk you, when really I want them to have to go to the source to get what they're really looking for.

I'm actually going through a period of particular ambiguity in my personality.  When I'm actively engaged in something, it's easy to sort of define myself with whatever I'm doing (like defining myself as a diver).  It helps me to function to be able to think of myself in a particular role -- I'm so-and-so's plus-one, I'm in charge of this Acme project, I'm X's mentor, or whatever.  Thinking that way helps me to focus on the performance.  Have you ever seen a television show in which one of the actors seems to have forgotten he's on screen?  And drops character?  I've been caught doing that a few times.

Even when people are naturally attracted to "me," i.e. I have not intentionally targeted with a version of me tailor made to them, it's hard to know what exactly that means.  Is it my strength?  My humor?  My solicitousness?  Unflagging support?  If I don't know what it is they like about me, I don't know what to keep doing.  It can be very disconcerting.  I feel like I'm being interviewed for a job and I'm not really sure what all the job entails.

At times like these I feel like an engine with the clutch disengaged.  I am nothing, but potentially anything.  Like a discus, I could be sent me off in any direction, but ultimately it doesn't feel like it matters where I go or where I came from.  I guess this is freedom.  It also makes me a total anti-consumer.  I don't feel at all defined by my belongings or my socio economic status.  It's nice to run in the rat race only whenever I feel like it, not because my successes/money define me.  But I also can't really force myself to do things I don't want to do.

Here's a BPD blogger (and SW reader) describing a similar thing for borderline personality disorder.