Monday, October 11, 2010

Another (female) sociopath story

I like these stories from readers because I think they round out the picture of what a successful sociopath looks like. Plus they suggest, as some have alleged, that if m.e. and everyone else here like me aren't sociopaths, we do at least seem to be part of a discrete and identifiable subclass of something that is unusual enough amongst the general population to cause consternation in some and hatred in others. From a reader:
I happened along your blog by chance, I was actually searching for something completely mundane when I found it. (I can't remember what now) I didn't send you this email to confirm weather or not I am a sociopath. In fact, these labels mean nothing to me. I know what I am capable of. I know this is who I am and is an integral facet of my personality. However, this is only a single facet of my personality; it does not equal the whole of me.
Early in your blog you expressed a want to reach out to others like you; so this is me saying hi. Well I suppose I should start off by saying this; I'm a female and I can't say if I am a sociopath or not since I have never officially been diagnosed by a psychologist and I don't think my college psy1 professor counts even if she was a doctor. (she was always giving me the look) If I'm not then perhaps I'm simply an extremely cold bitch with a little bit of evil thrown in for a little extra spice.
Are sociopaths made? My childhood was spent in a middle to upper class neighborhood and my parents divorced when I was very young. I was a delinquent child but was rarely caught. My mother has socio/psychopathic tendencies. You see I never had to go out of my way to kill or torture the neighborhood animals because my mother would have me help her kill them. Her most casual method was by antifreeze; but generally she would put them in a plastic bag and shove them in the freezer while they were still alive. I was always the assistant in these small murders. Usually this is where people go, "Oh my god!" and blame her for my behavior. Looking back, I don't blame her. I think blaming her would be like blaming the parent for a gay child. Shit just happens.
In my early teens I was the odd girl out. It wasn't until I realized that certain behavior was unacceptable that I massed friends. When I 'came out of my shell', I was quite popular. This period is when I discovered I was a compulsive liar. Usually I lied for more attention or to get free stuff. I learned to manipulate everyone around me to my advantage. I even orchestrated the break up of a couple of relationships.
As a young adult I've come to a greater understanding of my powers of manipulation. College was easy because I could write most of my quirks off as 'too much partying'. During this time I also found myself to be completely lacking in grief. I don't know how to feel morose but have learned to mimic well enough. I only feel remorse if I fail at something, but not because I did something wrong. I usually know the difference between right and wrong and simply disregard the concept of wrong if it suits my purposes. This doesn't mean that I don't have bout's of altruism or go out of my way to completely ruin someones life. I only exert the effort to ruin if it will benefit me, as I am the only one that matters.
As an adult, I still find occasionally find myself on a learning curve. There are still new behaviors to learn. It doesn't happen often but I still get the 'your not right' look sometimes. This usually means that I missed something that should have been easily picked up on. In generally I keep a lose set of friends around that I have been known to drop on a whim. I don't usually keep them around if I don't need them. That said, I do have a couple of fellow socio/psychopath friends thatI remain close with. We seem to understand each other I suppose.
Murder is a topic that is broached on your blog a bit; the very thought puts a nasty taste in my mouth. Don't miss understand me here. I feel nothing for the death of another. I have my own hangups about cleanliness though. People are gross (blood borne diseases), yuk. That said, unless there is a legitimate life-or-death reason it seems pretty pointless to me. Unless you truly aspire to go to jail and marry Bubba/Bertha. Seriously, I have my 'violent' urges. They happen more frequently than I would like; but I have also learned how to constructively channel those negative energies. Anyone who is stupid enough to give into those baser instincts deserves what they get. Like curling up with Bubba/Bertha on a single cot in lock down.
Once my ex-girlfriend, with a scared look in her eye asked me, "Are you a sociopath?". I looked at her honestly for the first time and told her, "Probably." She at least attempted to understand what it was to be a void. I told her that I do experience joy, anger, lust, disappointment but they are extremely fleeting and only experienced in direct correlation to 'me'. As in MY joy, MY anger etc. I can not actually recall these emotions although I know I have had them. I can't remember what it felt like to feel that joy or sadness, only that it happened. I do know that certain activities or achievements will bring these feelings back to me. However, I do not feel at a loss without them. In fact, I truly do believe I am a 'happy' person.
I am bisexual, however I prefer women. I have been in my longest relationship for about a year and eight months now with a woman who is also 'feelings-deficient'. I don't know if I feel love so much as obsession and devotion. When I am in a relationship I adapt to what they want and expect, while at the same time manipulating and lying to suit my needs. However, much like your business analogy if I'm not getting a return on my investment I leave.
Anyway, thanks for the blog. It's been fun to go back and read the old posts. And it's always interesting to interact with others like myself. It's nice to take off the masks every once in a while and breathe.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Doppelgängers and favorites

A reader asked me about my sense of sometimes having a doppelgänger . I think at least some of these points apply equally to people that a sociopath chooses as a "favorite," i.e. someone that they play with and protect rather than play with and destroy.

Doppelgängers are a weird sensation. They can feel good or they can feel bad, I can want to absorb them into the rest of my identity, or I can want to kill them. They always feel like a part of me, though. I think the best way to describe how I feel around them is that I "recognize" them. I see something of me in them. And not just the me that most people know, but the hidden me that very few know.

I think that this is the thing about doppelgängers that provokes the strongest reaction in me, that I see my hidden self in them. It makes me a little nervous, like I have been found out. I wonder -- if I can see the real them, can they see the real me? And if their identify is so obvious to me, I wonder if my identity is obvious to others as well:
They say that you can never truly see yourself; not in mirrors, or photos, or windows, or water. All you see is a flat reflection. You go through life with only an idea of how other people see you in the three dimensions, always one step removed from every true angle. Unless you’re (un)-lucky enough to have a twin.
Typically there is just one thing I have in common with these people. Perhaps a similar reaction to a certain stimulus. Maybe they also data-mine incessantly to make predictions about other's behavior. Maybe they also are completely ambivalent about some outrageous political issue. Whatever it is, it is something that I consider unique enough to me that I am pleasantly surprised to discover it in someone else.

The raging narcissist in me is very charmed by our similarities, but the wary recluse in me thinks they are a dangerous liability. The result is that all of our interactions have a ticking time bomb urgency and intensity about them.

Although it is true that these people are objectively interesting in some ways, usually I discover to my disappointment that they are still largely unoriginal. Once I realize that they're not who I hoped they would be, I get over my obsession immediately. But it's all very exciting at first.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Emotional contagion

This is an interesting, but old, audio news piece about how fear spreads among crowds and leads to stampedes, etc. "Human beings are hardwired to respond to fear of others." "Fearful body language primes humans to flee."

Interestingly, another article suggested that bad decisions may also be contagious.

As a side note, being in a crowded nightclub when a fire breaks out (story from the audio link), or any similar mob type situation is the reason why I experience anxiety in crowded spaces.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Being socio and black

I am very interested in a sociopath's sense of identity (or lack of identity, as is more frequently the case). I don't really identify with my own gender, race, ethnicity, place of origin, which is why I'm so interested in hearing from the male vs. female socio perspective, socios from different countries and backgrounds, etc. I asked one of our readers to talk about how he identifies with his own readily identifiable identity markers, and it's both interesting and banal at the same time, perhaps most interesting in its banality.
I thought I would write you something about what it feels like to be black and conscienceless. I thought it would be a longish email too. Funny thing is, there is nothing to tell really. Nothing that you don't already get. Sure, there is the black culture, of which I am part by virtue of the color of my skin. I did grow up in what is euphemistically referred to as an “urban center”. I saw a couple of dead people in front of my house growing up, drug deals gone down next door to me, etc. But I am as detached from my racial identity as I am from every other identity marker.

I have a penis and I know how to use it. But I don’t feel like a man per se. I am 35, but I don’t feel like a card carrying member of Generation X. I am a natural born American citizen, yet I do not feel any emotional investment in this country. I like the capitalism and I find the Founding Fathers interesting in their mix of pragmatism and idealism, but otherwise, I would no more die for this country than I would for anything else. I am detached from all of it.

That isn’t to say I don’t enjoy some things about black culture because I do. I grew up on soul food and when done well, it is delicious. Unhealthy, but delicious. I appreciate soulful singing. Not many other groups can pull that kind of singing off. That sort of thing. But had I grown up in the Civil Rights era, for instance, I would have been more interested in how I might use that movement to advance my own agenda rather than how I can help the race as a whole, know what I mean? Sure you do!

I will say this. I do have a deep aversion to police. I hate them. Kind of. But I don’t know if that stems from some kind of racial consciousness or from my own inborn anti-sociality. Or both.
We should get Hare to add to his PCL-R "intense hatred and distrust of the police and other pseudo-enforcement related individuals."

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Blood lust 2

An update from the same reader as this previous post on blood lust:
Thought I'd give you a small update on myself.

I was at a party, a thing I do every month so people don't think I'm a complete shut-in. During this party I commented on a guys shirt, he had a tag hanging out, so I tried a joke and asked if he put his shirt backside-out.
Apparently this was how the shirt was supposed to look. So, a couple of minutes later, this girl walks up to me. She's pissed cause she thought I was making fun of the guy, apparently she was his ex-girlfriend and still had feelings for him, and she was drunk, so she was angry at me.
I tried explaining to her that I wasn't making fun of her. And out of nowhere, she punches me in the cheek. The second I got my eyes on her I, kinda snapped. My arm just kinda wrapped around her throat without my brain telling it to do it. And me and her, and a bystander kinda froze for some seconds. My brain was saying "this is a bad idea. A lot of crap is gonna happen if you dont let go". But I did not let go. I felt my insides going into some kond of euphoria. I wanted to choke her.

But, I let go. Of course the other people on the party found out about this and I was asked to leave.

Two days later I thought about this. This was the closest to happiness(I guess?) that I've been.
Never have I felt my heart beat like that.

So, I went to Oslo (the capital of Norway). Went to some bars, looking for some drunk people.
I found one guy. This obnoxious lowlife. And I picked a fight. Wasn't hard to do.

We were standing in an alley, fighting, I had been drinking so it was a fair fight. In the end, I lost the fight. But, during the fight. I felt somewhat more alive than ever. I wanted to make him bleed, I wanted TO bleed. Every punch I gave and took, I got more and more sober. My mind was buzzing, my body was getting feeling more and more like they were a single person. I felt good, for the first time in a long time, I felt home.

No loneliness, no pit, no more was I an outsider. I felt good.
This was my first real fight. I doubt it will be the last.

The days after that, I've felt good. My spirit is lifted, it seems my burden is less to bear.
Maybe I'm the only one that will feel like that after a fight. (People get the wrong idea from watch the TV-show Dexter ..)

Now, what I'm trying to say is. I have bloodlust. I know there are alot of sociopaths out there, but not many of us have bloodlust.
But, if you have it. Don't let it go out on the wrong people. I'm going to do my best and take it out on the ones that deserve it.
-H
This idea of there being a "wrong person" to take your blood lust out on is interesting to me. I presume the main drive of blood lust is only physical violence towards another human being, i.e. inflicting some sort of physical harm. The fact that it might "hurt" the other human being, either psychically, financially, or emotionally, is merely an unintentional, and perhaps even an unfortunate consequence of acting upon the blood lust -- it's not necessarily the primary aim. Does this seem right, blood lusters?
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