Meet the parents of a psychopath

Since I’ve just spent the week in the company of my parents, and had the intention to write about them anyway, what better time than right now?

My father was one of these.

They primarily came to move some of my belongings home to England (I won’t be here for much longer) but out of that they gained a vacation in France with their beloved son. On top of that, further gains for me were: free accommodation in a pleasant rural setting and free food and alcohol for a week including several restaurant meals, which are unspeakably good round these parts.

As I write, they are still in the country but are driving up to the coast to catch the ferry. They left about 3 hours before the time of writing, and although I spent about 20 minutes mourning their departure, I no longer miss them. Instead, I’m looking ahead to the next month or so and the plans I have.

Anyway, my parents. I still have two of them, though at nearly 60 years old they’re getting on a bit. My mother is a geographer, loves gardening, books and I struggle to think of a third thing. She’s a pushover. My father is a former guard of the Queen, war veteran, and retired police officer. He’s also an alcoholic, a PTSD sufferer and has a very nasty temper. I have a mixed relationship with my dad; we can go from joking to fighting to cold silence in the space of an afternoon. The relationship between my mother and I is much more stable and as a consequence is closer, though I lie to and manipulate both of them equally.

Because I don’t miss them for long when they’re not around, I don’t keep in touch as often as they’d like, in fact one of my favourite games is to set a specific time to call or skype and then not show up, subsequently ignoring all texts, phone calls and emails for weeks until they think I’ve died or am in trouble.

My mother likes these.

 

In general, however, it pays to keep them on my side:

  • Parents are the biggest supporters you’ll ever get and perhaps the only people you can rely on to be selfless most of the time.
  • They do all sorts of useful favours and jobs and expect little or nothing in return. And they can’t replace me! A psychopath’s dream…
  • They teach life lessons. From my mum, I have learned patience, co-operation, negotiation and temper control. Thanks to her, I will (probably) never go to prison. From my dad, I have learned manipulation, persuasion, cooking and all sorts of interesting tips for criminal activity, as well as physical and psychological torture. Thanks to him, I will (probably) be successful in life.
  • They give me money, almost without question. And the Bank of Dad doesn’t recall its debts.
  • Despite everything, I do love them. Not in the same way as you love your parents and certainly not in the way they love me. While my dad would “walk over hot coals” and mum would “do anything” for me, I would, to quote myself like a true narcissist, “greatly inconvenience myself to save my mother’s life”. That probably doesn’t sound like much, but it’s more than I would do for anyone else. What is love anyway?

P.S. While I was finishing this off, I got a quick phone call to say my folks have arrived at the ferry port. It was good-natured and polite. I lied at least twice in the 2 minutes we were talking. 

How would you feel if you had a psychopath for a son? How would you mould and guide him? Would he make you proud of his success or ashamed of his crimes? Leave a comment and share your thoughts.

 

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