Thursday, January 31, 2013

Gold star sociopath?

When people ask me for recommendations of what to read/watch to understand sociopaths better, I tell them, among other things, the film The Woodsman with Kevin Bacon. In it he plays a "recovering" pedophile who struggles with his urges as he tries to form a "normal" romantic attachment with a woman and stumbles upon another predator like himself. Un-acted upon pedaphilia was recently addressed in a Dan Savage column. when I read it, for "pedophile," I substituted "sociopath," for "sexual attraction to children," I substituted ...
Let's say, theoretically, I'm a pedophile.

I'm not stupid or evil, so I'm not gonna DO anything. I'm not even gonna look at porn, because the production of it involves child exploitation. I don't even look at kids in public places.

So what the fuck should I do? Chemical castration? But I haven't DONE anything and I don't plan to. Am I obliged to tell anyone? Good way to lose friends. Can I keep babysitting my friends' kids when they need a hand? After all, if I were into adult women, people wouldn't see anything wrong with leaving me alone with a couple of those.

What the fuck do I do? Live alone and hope Japan starts producing affordable sexbots before I'm too old to care?

You know, theoretically. If I were a pedophile.

Knows It's Wrong

"My heart goes out to people to whom nature has given something as powerful and as distracting as a sex drive and no healthy way to express it," says Dr. James Cantor, a psychologist and the editor in chief of the research journal Sexual Abuse. "Pedophiles are not the only folks in this position, but they are by far the most demonized, regardless of whether they have ever actually caused anyone any kind of harm."

My heart is going out to you, too. As I've written before, we should acknowledge the existence of "good pedophiles," people like you, KIW, who are burdened with a sexual interest in children but who possess the moral sense to resist acting on that interest. It's a lifelong struggle for "good pedophiles," and most manage to succeed without any emotional support—to say nothing of credit—whatsoever.

Unfortunately, science doesn't know much about pedophiles like you, pedophiles who haven't done anything, because the social stigma is so great that most nonoffending pedophiles never seek treatment. And what research has been done, says Cantor, isn't very encouraging if you're looking to free yourself from your attraction to children.

"There is no known way of turning a pedophile into a nonpedophile," says Cantor. "The best we can do is help a person maximize their self-control and to help them build an otherwise happy and productive life."

"It is true that a regular heterosexual man is not going to commit an offense against every woman he finds attractive. However, most women are capable of recognizing when an interaction is just starting to go south and of getting out of the situation. Most children are not. So although there is every reason to believe that there exist cats that can successfully be in charge of the canary, it's not a very good idea for the cat to be the one making that call."

"I wish I had better news," concludes Cantor. "I also wish that more people did good research on this so that one day I could have better news to give."
The money quote for me: "Unfortunately, science doesn't know much about pedophiles like you, pedophiles who haven't done anything, because the social stigma is so great that most nonoffending pedophiles never seek treatment."

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Seeing what you want to see

I studied economics for a time. I was introduced to behavioral economics and how the heuristics that help us deal with day to day problems can also frequently lead us astray. I had understood for a long time that people often self-deceived, but even I was surprised by the depth and breadth of the way we misperceive the world (me included). I learned the lessons of decisionmaking and rationality and tried to become more rational myself. I have since noticed that many of my friends who did fine understanding the concepts but lacked the humility or insight to see an application in their own lives.

My friend I mentioned earlier is a good example. He is so afraid of making a bad decision that he avoids making them until they are made for him. That or he waits until his fear and panic of making the decision cause him to take action, any action at all, but all in a fog of willful ignorance -- pretending that certain facts don't exist or (intentionally?) misrepresenting probabilistic outcomes in his mind. All of this is done in an attempt to shield himself from self-hatred or acknowledging certain basic truths about the world that he would rather ignore. I see this sort of ex post self-justification happen in the comments section of this blog from people who are doomed to repeat past mistakes because they refuse a sense of responsibility about their own destiny.

It's a good example of seeing what you want to see and the harm that can come from it. I actually advise people to not even form a belief if they can -- the temptation to anchor their future assessments or see all new information through the distorted lens of whether or not it confirms that belief is just simply too high.

Even if people get the probability correctly, they often don't understand what that means. It's one thing to say there's a 1% of getting caught stealing a mobile phone, but many people have trouble understanding that means if you steal 100 phones you will statistically get caught once. Instead they act as if anything less than 5% means never going to happen no matter how repeatedly they engage in it. Which is why I liked this recent article in the NY Times about understanding low probability risks. It's worth reading in its entirety, here's a teaser story:


I first became aware of the New Guineans’ attitude toward risk on a trip into a forest when I proposed pitching our tents under a tall and beautiful tree. To my surprise, my New Guinea friends absolutely refused. They explained that the tree was dead and might fall on us.

Yes, I had to agree, it was indeed dead. But I objected that it was so solid that it would be standing for many years. The New Guineans were unswayed, opting instead to sleep in the open without a tent.

I thought that their fears were greatly exaggerated, verging on paranoia. In the following years, though, I came to realize that every night that I camped in a New Guinea forest, I heard a tree falling. And when I did a frequency/risk calculation, I understood their point of view.

Consider: If you’re a New Guinean living in the forest, and if you adopt the bad habit of sleeping under dead trees whose odds of falling on you that particular night are only 1 in 1,000, you’ll be dead within a few years. In fact, my wife was nearly killed by a falling tree last year, and I’ve survived numerous nearly fatal situations in New Guinea.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Lifetime learner

I sometimes post favorite comments (sometimes not, if it is hard to reduce it to a quotable quote), but there were two in particular that I have been thinking about recently. One was from a reader who said that he observes his own behavior in order to interpret his emotions. I found that to be very interesting, and very true of my life too. When I was in secondary school I got very/acutely sick for a while. To me life felt normal, apart from dealing with pain and other physical symptoms of being sick, but after about two weeks my friends all stopped talking to me. I got better, but they still stayed away. I didn't know what to make of it. Since then I have realized that when I am sick or otherwise not feeling well, I can be very mean, short-tempered, even irrational without knowing I am doing it. Now when people start acting offended around me or I otherwise struggle to maintain healthy interpersonal relationships, I often (correctly) assume that I am sick. The same applies for a lot of my other "feelings," particularly negative ones. Frequently I am unaware of them until I find myself engaging in some irrational behavior or another (always my red flag). Only then do I stop what I am doing and take time to reassess what's really going on in my world.

Another commenter (aspie?) remarked on the definition of love, saying that he believed love is basically gratitude. Coming from an aspie, I thought this was hilarious because I don't think any neurotypical would describe love that way. It is, however, exactly the sort of thing that someone would say who has never experienced love the way a neurotypical would. Yes, little aspie, to the sociopath as well love feels a lot like gratitude and loyalty.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Successful and sociopathic

I thought this NY Times op ed, "Successful and Schizophrenic," had some interesting parallels. It tells the story of a law professor who was diagnosed as schizophrenic (I hope I'm doing the math right) in her early 20s. She was basically told that she would be living in a group home for the rest of her life. And she was actually hospitalized multiple times (apparently), but after her last stint at age 28 she was told that maybe she could get a job as a cashier making change part time. Instead she became a law professor and recipient of a MacArthur Foundation genius grant. Is she still schizophrenic?


Although I fought my diagnosis for many years, I came to accept that I have schizophrenia and will be in treatment the rest of my life. Indeed, excellent psychoanalytic treatment and medication have been critical to my success. What I refused to accept was my prognosis.

Conventional psychiatric thinking and its diagnostic categories say that people like me don’t exist. Either I don’t have schizophrenia (please tell that to the delusions crowding my mind), or I couldn’t have accomplished what I have (please tell that to [University of Southern California]’s committee on faculty affairs). But I do, and I have. And I have undertaken research with colleagues at U.S.C. and U.C.L.A. to show that I am not alone. There are others with schizophrenia and such active symptoms as delusions and hallucinations who have significant academic and professional achievements.


There were also really helpful suggestions about how each person came up with coping mechanisms specific to their individual issues:


How had these people with schizophrenia managed to succeed in their studies and at such high-level jobs? We learned that, in addition to medication and therapy, all the participants had developed techniques to keep their schizophrenia at bay. For some, these techniques were cognitive. An educator with a master’s degree said he had learned to face his hallucinations and ask, “What’s the evidence for that? Or is it just a perception problem?” Another participant said, “I hear derogatory voices all the time. ... You just gotta blow them off.”

Part of vigilance about symptoms was “identifying triggers” to “prevent a fuller blown experience of symptoms,” said a participant who works as a coordinator at a nonprofit group. For instance, if being with people in close quarters for too long can set off symptoms, build in some alone time when you travel with friends.

Other techniques that our participants cited included controlling sensory inputs. For some, this meant keeping their living space simple (bare walls, no TV, only quiet music), while for others, it meant distracting music. “I’ll listen to loud music if I don’t want to hear things,” said a participant who is a certified nurse’s assistant. Still others mentioned exercise, a healthy diet, avoiding alcohol and getting enough sleep. A belief in God and prayer also played a role for some.

Sound familiar to anyone? The advice to identify and avoid triggers by explicitly structuring your life to avoid or minimize them? Exercise and diet? Sleep and sensory inputs? Religion (which always what I fall back on when my brain is sick)?

She goes on to talk about how some people pour themselves into a rewarding career. She warns about the conflation of symptoms and diagnosis:


Far too often, the conventional psychiatric approach to mental illness is to see clusters of symptoms that characterize people. Accordingly, many psychiatrists hold the view that treating symptoms with medication is treating mental illness. But this fails to take into account individuals’ strengths and capabilities, leading mental health professionals to underestimate what their patients can hope to achieve in the world.


She mentions that some people with autism managed their symptoms, sometimes to the point of eliminating them. She then closes with these thoughts that could apply equally well to sociopathy:

I don’t want to sound like a Pollyanna about schizophrenia; mental illness imposes real limitations, and it’s important not to romanticize it. We can’t all be Nobel laureates like John Nash of the movie “A Beautiful Mind.” But the seeds of creative thinking may sometimes be found in mental illness, and people underestimate the power of the human brain to adapt and to create. 

An approach that looks for individual strengths, in addition to considering symptoms, could help dispel the pessimism surrounding mental illness. Finding “the wellness within the illness,” as one person with schizophrenia said, should be a therapeutic goal. . . . They should encourage patients to find their own repertory of techniques to manage their symptoms and aim for a quality of life as they define it. 

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Mind sick

I have been mind sick since Tuesday evening. It's not quite the mental equivalent of a Windows blue screen, but it came on as suddenly and without warning just like a blue screen. It feels like I am actually sick with the flu, but that I only have the mental symptoms. Since it's happened, I've tried to stay home as much as possible and feed my mind the equivalent of simple and easily digestible food. Even writing this now is taking much longer than it should.

It typically happens at least once or twice a year. One time after I was very sick with the flu, it lasted off and on for several months, although usually it is gone within a week or two. Every time it happens, I am worried that my mind will be gone forever, that I am gone forever. Other than that, it's not all that unpleasant. I don't feel sad, maybe just a little frustrated sometimes when I'm trying to complete a task and can't marshal the correct mental resources. My emotions can have moments of higher volatility initially, but they usually calm down to base levels lower than average. I can be just as happy and susceptible to pleasure by simple things as I am normally. I think this is why I have never thought it was depression.

I have a strong family history of depression. My mother has been medicated off and on and each of my siblings experience it regularly to varying degrees of severity and length. Just last month I was talking to my brother about it. He is a lot like me, always trying to game the system, so when he gets depressed it's always a little surprising to me to see him so weak. It will come every few months or so for a few days. Random things can trigger it like the end of television series he enjoyed or a period of stress, but it just as often seems to have no trigger. I think he gets really sad, despondent even. The last time this happened I remember thinking, it's odd that I am the only one in the family who is not subject to bouts of depression.

And now I feel like this and for the time I wonder, is this my own version of the family depressive model? Seasonal depression? Why does it come and what makes it come?
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