Monday, April 14, 2014

Enough about religion

A reader asks about my religious faith:

Good evening ME,

Thank you for an interesting blog.

Lately you have been writing quite a bit about your religion. I am curious , do you REALLY believe in any of your religion? One of the basic traits of sociopaths is, according to Hare and others, “free from delusions” and I dare say that anyone who is not delusional cannot believe in any religion since they by definition require you to believe something that clearly cannot be true (mostly because there never is any real evidence at all, just books and pastors but also because if you look at any religion with a clear mind it is quite obvious that people believe it because others have told them to believe it in combination with that reality(there is no heaven etc. ) is unbearable for empaths).

I am not saying there cannot be grains of truths and/or wisdom in any religion but the basic tenets cannot an are not true. Do you see this?

Yeah, I realize that a lot of people don't understand, or don't like, or don't like reading about how I relate to religion. And I'm sorry if it seemed like I over-posted about it before. I don't mean to inundate readers with anything they'd rather not hear about. I started posting more about religion when the book came out because I was no longer as worried about hiding certain aspects of myself from being used to identify me. Before that, I intentionally kept most of what I posted generic, both for the identity purposes and so people who shared those traits could project their own experiences onto what I wrote to be able to relate better. After doing that for several years, I thought that it might be interesting to change it up by giving people a more fleshed out portrayal of someone who has been diagnosed with this disorder. I know some of you didn't like that change, just like someone of you didn't like any of the other changes that I've made or things that I've done in the public eye. But I don't really know what I'm doing or have a master plan. I just try things out and sometimes they work ok and sometimes they are disasters.

But yeah, after the book came out I started talking more about things I had been quiet about before: being female, more about being in my particular profession, and more about some of my other specific formative life experiences.  Because I do feel like a lot of the way I think and present to the world is influenced by these things: growing up in a big, smart, (a little trashy) Mormon family; being female; studying and practicing law; being American and a Californian; being a classically-trained musician; etc. I don't think those things necessarily have much or anything to do with sociopathy, but they do have something to do with the sorts of choices I make in how I live my life. And I realize that a lot of people (most?) are not interested in me as a person, and I realize a lot of you believe that I am a narcissist for various reasons (maybe even narcissistic personality disorder? which I definitely show signs of), including that I talk about myself a lot (and use the word I and me a lot and seem delusional, or as my friend puts it, like a megalomaniac). But thanks everyone for your feedback and I hope to do better. But also sometimes I wrote posts more for niche audiences (or at least hope to), because although I understand that not everyone is interested in certain topics or certain aspects about me, I think others are? Maybe other Mormons, other musicians, other INTJs, or other people who have been diagnosed as having Asperger's (as my most recent therapist suggested, funnily enough). And often I just use this blog as sort of a journaling project to write about the things that are on my mind, not knowing whether they will appeal to outside audience or not. So feel free to skip the posts you find boring or inapplicable, and hopefully we'll pick up with something more to your liking in a later post.

But here is what I replied to this reader:

This is an interesting question. First, I think that everyone suffers from delusions because we cannot correctly perceive or understand reality. So when they say free from delusions, I think they are largely making the distinction that sociopaths do not suffer from psychosis. There may also be a small distinction between other personality disorders like narcissism, which seem to be a little more out of touch with reality than sociopathy manages to be?

In response to religion being delusional, we are always being delusional in some unknown way. We used to believe that homosexuality was unnatural and a mental illness. We used to bleed people. We used to think the world was flat. I do not flatter myself that I would have been immune to any of those delusions had I lived in those times and with that knowledge. I'm aware that the things we don't know vastly exceed the things we do know. So believing, perhaps delusionally, in religion is not a problem for me.

If anything, it has helped me to manage having a personality disorder. For instance, although I don't really feel like I am any particular person or have a strong sense of self, my religion teaches me that I am, I have a soul, and so does everyone else, and our main job in life is to become more perfectly who we were meant to become and to help others to do the same. My religion teaches me that just because I have done bad things does not mean that I am a bad person who is incapable of ever changing or doing good things (or my dad, or anyone else who has hurt me in the past). My religion teaches me that my brain and other physical defects can distort how I see the world, who I believe myself to be, and how I act in a way that is not really "me", and I can do things to minimize those effects and (eventually) become free from those. My religion also teaches me rules of morality are not determined by consensus and that I shouldn't worry about the judgment of other people so much as the judgment of a more perfect arbiter, so I try to focus on the big stuff, like achieving enlightenment, and not necessarily on the small bad stuff that currently happens to be most controversial in the world. My religion teaches me that although I can change, I have been given certain gifts that are essential to humanity, that no one is trash or sans value, and that all of us have a specific role to fulfill as part of the body of Christ. I'm sure some or all of this sounds ridiculous, but the net effects of believing it are good for me, and so I (like everyone else in this world?) maintain certain beliefs that are good for me that may otherwise seem entirely specious.


Sorry for all of the recycled posts. I'm on vacation.

Also, this Brene Brown video on returning to religion as a researcher.


Sunday, April 13, 2014

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Road rage

A funny thing happened to me while I was travelling. I had gotten a car and was having a few problems with local drivers. I had grown up and learned to drive in a place where everyone quickly becomes an expertly efficient driver, or faces very stiff social sanctions, including possibly death. This place had no such rule of the jungle. Everyone, including their cars, was fat and bloated from years of complacency.

I got stuck out on the road during their rush hour, which seemed odd given the size of this place. There was something about their driving that suggested that they were not used to traffic, that maybe it had sprouted up only in the past 5 to 10 years and not everyone had learned to adapt. I was headed south on a broad, multiple lane boulevard and came upon a backed-up the intersection of another large boulevard with highway entrances. I waited in line for two lights, passing the time reading comments from the blog on my smart phone. During the green light that should have allowed me to cross, someone cut into my lane, slowing me down enough to keep me from proceeding through the intersection. I didn’t really mind. I had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and I was entertaining myself with my music and reading material.

Cross traffic took their turn, but quickly became backed up in the intersection. Cars just kept coming even though there was no way for them to clear the intersection in time. When the light turned green for me again, there was a car completely blocking not just my lane, but the lane next to me. I wondered at the driver's stupidity and waited for social sanctions in the form of honking, yelling, and fist shaking, but they never came. Was that my role as the driver closest to her, best informed as to the problem? I let out a few beeps in quick succession, heard a longer one from a few cars back in response, but nothing else. But when I looked at her, I didn’t feel like doing anything more. Both hands were on the wheel at 10 and 2, fists clenched to the point of whiteness. She purposefully avoided eye contact, staring ahead as if realizing she was about to endure the worst 1 minute of her day. She was so rigidly focused on enduring her fate that she didn’t even attempt to move one lane over, which if maneuvered correctly could free up at least one lane of traffic. I felt badly for her.

We waited that light out, staring at her. When she finally cleared the intersection and cross traffic picked up again, I was determined not to let the same situation happen again. I creeped further into the intersection myself, rolled down the window and gave various gestures and commands meant to dissuade others from enter the intersection unless they could safely clear it. When the light turned green, I sped off, taking back roads the rest of the way.

I had a small crisis of identity. Had I just empathized with that woman? Was I finally tapping into that piece of humanity that I lacked? Looking at her, clearly in a state of nervous discomfort, I myself felt nauseated and uncomfortable. Was that me mirroring her own emotions, or was that the heat, the humidity, and my food not agreeing with me? Twenty minutes later I determined affirmatively that it was the food, but for those twenty minutes I had a very Grinch moment of wondering whether my heart was growing three sizes. It wasn't at all unpleasant.

Moral of the story is that road rage kills, kids.

UPDATE: Interestingly, since this post was initially published, research has shown that sociopaths actually can feel empathy in certain situations when their attention is drawn to the task of trying to imagine what it might be like to be that person.  

Friday, April 11, 2014

Music soothes the savage beast

I am a classically trained musician and I really do love music, but I don't think it is the same way that most people love music. I read music blogs sometimes to find new music and most of the time it's just people describing how the music feels to them, as if that is the main purpose of music. Music can feel like certain things to me too. Of course it is more like sensing the adrenaline kicking in as part of a fight or flight response to drums and bass, or feeling dopamine flood my brain to self-soothe for sad music. But mostly when I listen to music, I listen to the structure, the same way you might read an essay for the form, ignoring the substance. I never think that a song is "good" just because it makes me feel something. Music is manipulative by nature, it can provoke certain emotions, but so is a telenovela. People don't judge the quality of television or film based on how much it makes them laugh or cry, do they? Don't they resent the blatant attempts at manipulation? Why is music any different?

I was reading this music blog, and was surprised at the author's reaction to this video:

He says:
i’ve never posted just a video before. and i already featured this track on the blog a long time ago. but i saw this today and it kind of blew my mind. it’s all one take (the first take, actually), and nothing out of the ordinary happens until about 1:36 in, at which point something extraordinary happens. (do yourself a favor tho and don’t skip ahead.) at that point, the fourth wall breaks, the shiny veneer crumbles, and you get a glimpse of an actual artist caught up in a true moment of connection with her craft. kind of incredible, actually. and it hit me in such a way that i’ve decided be naive enough to believe that it is what it purports to be — a genuine moment of unstaged, unaffected emotion. it was certainly compelling enough to be real, so i’m allowing myself to embrace it as such. -d
Really guy? "Connection with her craft"? "Genuine moment of unstaged, unaffected emotion?" I cant help but think that people like this want to be manipulated. They're the same ones that believe (against all evidence to the contrary) in romantic love. If I see this attitude in someone I want to target, I will manipulate them until they truly weep. Do you think they mind me doing that? Or is that their masochistic goal?

I guess I don't understand people.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

The older I get, the more my obsession with efficiency and decisionmaking provokes me to behave in quirky ways, giving me every appearance of suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder (emphasis on compulsion).

Every month or two I make a small trek to a warehouse store. At the store I buy the same approximately 20 items in various quantities (small amounts of hummus, large amounts of palm hearts). I eat these items in a particular order, prioritizing the fresh fruits and vegetables in order of their spoilage, shifting then to baked goods that have a slightly longer shelf life, and finally to canned and frozen foods until I am able to make another trip to start the cycle over again.

My approach to shopping at the warehouse store is a ritualistic self-indulgence of the extremes of my desire to control. Because I am never sure what fresh fruits and vegetables will be available, I start there (what I am able to acquire in fresh fruits may alter slightly my choices in the frozen foods section, and finally in the dry and canned goods section). Even though I have a list and even though I buy nearly identical items at each trip, I still spend approximately 2-3 minutes with each item, even more for produce. I look at the quality, looking for flaws, looking at spoilage dates, comparing the item I selected with other identical items to determine slight variations. I do this carefully and methodically, trying to remain focused as my body suffers through the artificial chill of the produce section’s walk-in refrigerator. I then do the same for each other type of food, frozen foods, dry and canned goods, as well as any paper goods. I walk fastidiously through each aisle, paranoid that I will neglect some forgotten need and have to go without for another month or two.

As I stand in line to pay for my purchases, I sometimes smile at the odd picture the bizarre array of foods makes, each one of them a carefully chosen trade-off between convenience and nutrition, taste and perishability, versatility and diversity. Are people more likely to believe that I am throwing a theme party (assorted beverages and ethnic foods) or that I have Asperger’s (16 jars of palm hearts)?

But after years of this self-indulgence I can’t go to a normal grocer’s anymore; at least I can’t go and feel satisfied about the experience. My datamining mind chokes on the sheer amount of data involved for choosing each item: the unknowns (taste, quality, perishability, nutrition, price, etc.) multiplied by the number of options. People say “a whole aisle of bread,” like it is a good thing, but to me it is horror.

The last time I went to a grocery store was a whim—I needed to kill time waiting for an appointment so I thought I would buy rye bread because I love it and my warehouse store does not stock it. When I walked into the bread aisle, I was aghast. There were 8 different types of rye bread. I looked at each one, comparing the descriptions of taste, comparing the color and feel, comparing the nutritional information and the ingredients list. After 20 minutes and about to become paralyzed with indecision, I picked one loaf of each—all 8 different types of rye bread. (I am still eating rye bread from that trip, the loaves suffering serious freezer burn.)

And that is why I like to shop at the warehouse store. There are not 100 different types of bread, there are 5. There are not 20 different types of yogurt, there are three. There are only two types of bacon, regular and turkey, and only one type of egg whites in tetrapak. Going to the warehouse store is a satisfying experience in which I am quite certain that I can make the best possible choices given my options. Given my love/hate relationship with food and my particular dietary needs, I avoid going to a large grocery store for the same reasons I avoid going to a used car lot .

UPDATE: Interestingly, James Fallon said that he was at one point diagnosed with both an anxiety disorder and OCD
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