Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Defining my disorder

This was an interesting NY Times op-ed ("Defining My Dyslexia") of someone's firsthand account of dealing with dyslexia and coming to see it as having both helped and hurt him in his life. I thought there were some interesting parallels:

Last month, at the Emily Hall Tremaine Foundation Conference on Dyslexia and Talent, I watched several neurobiologists present evidence that the dyslexic brain, which processes information in a unique way, may impart particular strengths. Studies using cognitive testing and functional M.R.I.’s have demonstrated exceptional three-dimensional and spatial reasoning among dyslexic individuals, which may account for the many successful dyslexic engineers. Similar studies have shown increased creativity and big-picture thinking (or “gist-detection”) in dyslexics, which correlates with the surprising number of dyslexic entrepreneurs, novelists and filmmakers.

The conference’s organizers made a strong case that the successes of the attending dyslexic luminaries — who ranged from a Pulitzer-winning poet to a MacArthur grant-winning paleontologist to an entrepreneur who pays a dozen times my student loans in taxes every year — had been achieved “not despite, but because of dyslexia.”

It was an exciting idea. However, I worried that the argument might be taken too far. Some of the attendees opposed the idea that dyslexia is a diagnosis at all, arguing that to label it as such is to pathologize a normal variation of human intellect. One presenter asked the audience to repeat “Dyslexia is not a disability.”

On what role people with a disorder should have in helping to define that diagnosis:

At the heart of the conference was the assumption that a group of advocates could alter the definition of dyslexia and what it means to be dyslexic. That’s a bigger idea than it might seem. Ask yourself, “What role should those affected by a diagnosis have in defining that diagnosis?” Recently I posed this question to several doctors and therapists. With minor qualifications, each answered “none.” I wasn’t surprised. Traditionally, a diagnosis is something devised by distant experts and imposed on the patient. But I believe we must change our understanding of what role we should play in defining our own diagnoses.

Before I went to medical school, I thought a diagnosis was synonymous with a fact; criteria were met, or not. Sometimes this is so. Diabetes, for example, can be determined with a few laboratory tests. But other diagnoses, particularly those involving the mind, are more nebulous. Symptoms are contradictory, test results equivocal. Moreover, the definition of almost any diagnosis changes as science and society evolve.

Diagnostics might have more in common with law than science. Legislatures of disease exist in expert panels, practice guidelines and consensus papers. Some laws are unimpeachable, while others may be inaccurate or prejudiced. The same is true in medicine; consider the antiquated diagnosis of hysteria in women. Those affected by unjust diagnoses — like those affected by unjust laws — should protest and help redefine them.

I like that part, particularly "Diagnostics might have more in common with law than science. Some laws are unimpeachable, while others. . . inaccurate or prejudiced". He mentions as an example the role that people with autism have had in helping to change the common understanding of what that disorder means, particularly outside of clinical settings in which most disorders are studied. Once people started coming forward in droves as having autism, it helped spawn the neurodiversity movement and got people to challenge their false assumptions.

Some people might balk at  efforts to redefine disorders (particularly one as nefarious sounding as sociopathy) as not being all bad or even having positive effects on both the life of people with the disorder and the world around them. I don't see why, though. Wouldn't you want to think that people (even sociopaths) are not all bad? That they have special skills that could benefit society? That they might also have rewarding lives? I guess I just don't ever see the long term wisdom in further marginalizing already fringe  groups.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Book responses (part 7)

From a reader:

I just started reading your book. It's got me envious of sociopaths. Your description of yourself and others of your ruthless ilk (that I've read so far) has me thinking you may actually be the healthiest and happiest -- or at least the least unhappy -- people around. As one who is subject to a host of conventional guilts and cares, I imagine a world where sociopathy is the norm and everyone is blithely, uncaringly, and honestly self-seeking, and I can only sigh at the vision. Perhaps the Golden Rule, that most pragmatic interpretation of self-interest, would actually be the guiding moral principle in that world.

Another reader:

I "managed" to get a copy of your book. Thank You. If you had chosen not to reveal yourself in such a manner, I may have never figured out what's so....."wrong"( I would call it right) with me. Many years have been spent trying to diagnose me, but seeing i wont be truthful to them, my motivation, as well as some incriminating experiences,I fail to see how they could diagnose me right. Your book opened my eyes. Like staring at myself, if things had gone differently. I am a disempathetic sociopath .If you were curious to know why i took time out of my day to thank you. In all honesty... I'm bored (people here cant keep up, intellectually).

Another reader:

Hey, you were on TV! That was one of the most pathetic performances I have ever seen. You're trying too hard, as narcissists typically do. A loser, maybe, but definitely not a sociopath like you claim. The best thing to do would be to shut down the blog and leave with your dignity, while you still have some respect. - Chet

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Book responses (part 6)

From a reader:

I read your book (blew through it really) and it was interesting to say the least. Specifically when I find something written down by someone else that I had always felt. For example, you said "I feel I have no particular sexual identity. Even the term bisexual is misleading as it implies some sort of preference. I think equal opportunity is a more apt label in that I see no reason to discriminate."

I have said this to a friend of mine (almost verbatim) when trying to explain why I dislike sexual labels.

Sometimes, it becomes utterly exhausting to keep us this image of someone who gives a damn. Let it slip just a little and I have to deal with "What's wrong with you?" from all sides. It's comforting to realize that there are other people that think the way I do, though they may also have to keep everything under a tight guard. 

I would love to be able to explain why I liked the book so much, but I haven't figured out a way to do that and not out myself (without flat out lying about why I read it). So my goodreads review is kind of empty, but I wanted to offer at least this much feedback.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Book responses (part 5)

From a "sympathetic neurotypical" reader:


Reading your book "Confessions of a Sociopath" has been a watershed experience for me. It confirms my hopeful suspicion that far from being evil, sociopaths are just different.  

Because you don't know me and likely don't get fired up because a self identified empath spews some version of "You're good enough, smart enough, and people like you" I will cut to the chase. 

I would like to meet you and converse with you at length, and not just for kicks. I am a writer who is fascinated by this topic and how the so called "dark triad" traits interact within the context of conservative/fundamentalist variations of religion.   

I have a theory: Sociopaths may well be society's salvation because they are the ultimate bullshit detectors. I am the granddaughter of a prominent evangelical leader who was the ultimate "cult of personality" figure. He was a supreme narcissist and all of us struggle someone with the sort of "drama of the gifted child" legacy that comes with being a "prop" in the grand myth surrounding the demigod of a Christian patriarchal family. Though I've ben divorced since 2008, I "escaped" this upbringing by marrying the scion of another Christian patriarchy at the age of 20. Suffice it to say I have learned quite a bit about the "complicated" morality of neurotypicals who consider themselves to be morally above reproach.

My entire life has been steeped in the judgments of good and evil that a family culture like this perpetuate, and I have known since I was about 10 that there was something "off" in a different way (different than sociopathic, I mean) about my clan. Specifically - the tendency to scapegoat anyone that questions the moral authority of the system." Questions from observers produce an annihilating rage and motivation to exterminate the one asking the questions after the veneers of patronizing "compassion for the unsaved" get stripped off. 

Why do I think you might want to talk to me? Because I have an intimate knowledge of the sort of individuals who want to exterminate "you and your kind." 

I am including a link to a column I wrote last year about the importance of not stigmatizing children who are put in the antisocial category (via MRI or by clinical diagnosis) to help you understand that I think our thinking on this topic is very compatible. 

But perhaps the most significant reason I want to advocate for the better understanding of sociopathic traits is the fact I am pretty sure someone dear to me is one. And I'll be damned if I let anyone scapegoat her. 

While the callous/unemotional side of your described experience does not ring a bell for me, I very much identify with your sensation seeking personality and your Machiavellian way of operating. It's interesting that you link the stronger connection between the right and left hemispheres with both sociopathy and ADD because I have a screaming case of the latter, which I consider to be an asset, not a disability, which is probably why I have no problem with your dispassionate way of viewing the world. 

Friday, May 24, 2013

Book responses (part 4)

From a reader:

I have been following your blog for a while and I've found it fascinating, so naturally when I heard about your book I jumped at a change for a larger glimpse into your life. I preordered it as soon as I heard about it, and when it arrived on my kindle yesterday I spent the whole day lost in the rabbit hole I found myself in. Much of your book resonated very strongly with me, especially your description of ruining people and how often the potential for ruin is enough. I have always implicitly felt this but could never put a name to it. I always considered it a propensity to quit before the end, but when you consider the appreciation of potential as an end in itself, the subsequent ruination is just "busy work" and not worth my time. This is actually a great relief to me, because while I can tolerate moral ambiguity in myself, I absolutely cannot tolerate a weak mind that cannot follow through its projects to their end.

Although it is most likely too early to tell, I consider myself a sociopath, or at least highly sociopathic. As a child, I never really fit into social situations, neither with adults nor children. I always felt the
greatest contempt for what I viewed as adults trying to manipulate me with a sourceless moral code that I did not believe in. It shocked me when they expressed surprise that I would need a justification for morality. With children, I was exceedingly awkward, a trait that I mainly attribute to an upbringing by East Asian parents, but may also have been because I simply didn't care about the frivolities that others did and never made an attempt to pretend otherwise. However, that upbringing also protected me, as the cultural mandate on conformity effectively masked my deviant thoughts and behavior. However, occasionally my utilitarian value set still shone through, like when I kicked one of my best friends in the ribs to make him stop yelling at recess. Afterward, deciding on a whim that honesty was a value I should always observe, I freely admitted to having done so, absolutely enraging my teacher for my apparent stoicism and lack of regret. I suppose I should have shown more contrition, but the truth is I simply didn't care that my friend was injured. I got what I wanted, and there was no permanent damage done. Was I supposed to care further on such trivial, temporary effects?

Although you discussed a lack of emotional affect in mainly humorous terms (people taking your deadpanned threats as jokes), I have found a very practical use for it, pathological lying, A combination of Asian distaste for outward displays of emotion and my sociopathic inability to express emotion has given me the highly useful ability to lie in practically any situation, even to my closest friends, a skill that I hone and treasure. It's pathetically easy to lie to strangers who don't know anything about you and are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but lying to someone who intimately knows your mannerisms is absolutely beautiful. I have actually ruined someone's inherent trust in people; after talking to me for a few months she can no longer take peoples' statements at face value and always wonders if they are lying, even if said person has never had a history of lying. I'm not sure how an empath would react to something like that, but I personally find it hilarious.

Speaking of empaths, I have never had an "Ann" in my life. No empath has ever healed me or shown me how redeemable empaths are. Instead, I only have people who stubbornly refuse to acknowledge my inherent differences and strive to evoke in me the emotions that they believe me to have. My inability to feel emotions alien to me is only interpreted as further reason that I need this “therapy,” until I am completely overwhelmed and I disengage entirely. I have never met an empath I can deal with, and the people I identify with closest all share sociopathic traits with me. Often, interaction with me has brought those traits to the surface. I'm sure a normal person would watch in horror as I “corrupt” people, but I only feel pride in having so much influence, not just in peoples' actions, but their very philosophies on life.

Unlike you, I have no religious code whatsoever, and my ethics can easily be described as questionable. My morals are based entirely on my aesthetic sense, but, given the nature of my aesthetics, it keeps me out of trouble anyway. What I find most beautiful is predatory grace, which requires, to put it simply, perception and ability. My aesthetics drive me to eschew denial and constantly strive to improve in all areas, which ironically gives me a relatively normal sociopathic life. It also gives me a relatively normal life by empath standards, as evidence of actions is usually ugly, giving me incentive to always cover my tracts. Violence, likewise, if used because I have lost control of the situation and can only resort to brute strength, is disgustingly ugly. Is this a strange code to live by? Clearly it is strange for empaths, but I have gotten the impression that my lifestyle is strange for sociopaths as well. Am I truly deviant or am I just calling the same motivations by a different name? I personally think my aesthetic sense is just a different name for the inborn instincts that everybody has (the will to live, which requires one to improve as to not get eviscerated), but given the reactions I have gotten from sharing my views, I may really be different.

Reading the reviews of your book on Amazon, I was surprised at the number of reviews that criticized the excessive length of the book. I was entirely engrossed from start to finish, but that may be because I responded personally to the material in a way that an empath simply wouldn't. In any case, you specifically described the book as a memoir, not an academic work, something that these reviews seem to have overlooked. I did notice that you left out any accounts of interactions with other sociopaths, even though you vaguely referenced them. Given how thoroughly you accounted your interactions, the story seems one sided. I would love to hear those, but even without those anecdotes, your book elucidated many concepts that I felt but couldn't put to words, and that deserves gratitude, as well as respect.
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