Tagged: parenting Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

  • James 15:50 on April 4, 2017 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: arguments, coming out, , , , , parenting, , , , , , step aside Mr Shakespeare, true story   

    Fessin' up 

    Pleased to meet you.

    Scene I: Friday evening, kitchen table

    JAMES’S FATHER (eyes narrowed): So, once again we find ourselves in this situation. For the fourth time, you’ve been lying to us.

    JAMES (in his head): Four times that you know of. (aloud) I don’t think it’s really been four times. What were the others?

    JAMES’S MOTHER outlines each of the three previous occasions. JAMES argues that at none of those times was he lying, and that this is a different situation. He wins 1 of 3 rounds.

    JAMES’S FATHER (exasperated): Three times, four times, what’s the fucking difference?! What matters is for the nth time, you have deliberately deceived us over months, and I don’t know why.

    JAMES: Neither do I.

    JAMES’S FATHER: No, that’s not going to fly anymore. You must know why you lie.

    JAMES (breathless) : It’s just an impulse. I don’t know why I do it. I can’t stop myself.

    JAMES’S FATHER: Don’t give us all this “it’s just an impulse” bullshit. You made a choice to lie each time you spoke to us and you did it comfortably.

    JAMES (internally admiring his father’s shrewdness): No! I didn’t do it on purpose-

    JAMES’S FATHER (cutting James off): You knowingly and comfortably lied to us over months. You deliberately hurt us.

    JAMES (truthfully): I did not lie to hurt you. (in head) I lied to benefit me. You didn’t come into the equation.

    JAMES’S FATHER (shouting): You lied knowing you would hurt us. You deliberately hurt us.

    JAMES (shouting back): NO! I didn’t lie to hurt you! I mean, I knew the consequences if you found out, but you weren’t supposed to find out.

    JAMES’S MOTHER: You may not have set out to hurt us, but that’s the result.

    JAMES (flatly): Yes.

    JAMES’S FATHER: So come on, why did you do it? I want an explanation.

    JAMES (long silence): I don’t know what to say. (another long silence) I have nothing to say.

    JAMES’S FATHER: Do you know right from wrong?

    JAMES (quickly) Yes. (pause) I mean I think I do. Who knows at this point? I don’t know. I feel bad for hurting you, if that’s the same thing.

    JAMES’S FATHER: Then why did you lie

    JAMES shrugs, but says nothing. After a whole minute:

    JAMES’S FATHER: Well I’m not going to sit here while you say nothing. If that’s the best explanation you can give, I guess we’ll have to take it. But I don’t know how we can trust you ever again, knowing how easily and convincingly you lie. We want to trust you, but there’ll always be a niggling doubt in the back of our minds. I want to believe you.

    JAMES (deciding now is not the time to make an ‘X Files’ joke): Yes, okay.

    JAMES’S MOTHER bursts into tears and runs from the room. JAMES looks at his father impassively.

    JAMES’S FATHER: You should go after your mother.

    JAMES: I don’t know what to say.

    JAMES’S FATHER (shouting again): How about telling her you’re sorry you hurt her?

    Exeunt

    Scene II: Monday lunchtime. JAMES’S MOTHER’S garden, where she has been chatting to her son and sitting on a bench

    JAMES’S MOTHER: I know you won’t like this, but I have to ask anyway. All those times you were telling me how useless [person] was and how she was so disorganised and feckless, that was all made up, wasn’t it?

    JAMES: Yeah, it was.

    JAMES’S MOTHER (gobsmacked): You had me stressed out and really hating that woman for putting you through so much, but it was all just fabricated.

    JAMES (half-smile): Well I was just describing myself, wasn’t I? I was the disorganised one, so I was just using her as a scapegoat.

    They sit in silence for a few moments. Then, JAMES’S MOTHER asks why JAMES told a lie a certain way, when he had told similar lies in a consistent, but different way.

    JAMES’S MOTHER: Why didn’t you just follow the same pattern?

    JAMES (genuinely stumped): Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe for variety? But it was back in December, so I’m really not sure. Interesting question.

    JAMES’S MOTHER (still disgruntled, but with a note of pride): You put a lot of detail into your lies, don’t you? A lot of unnecessary stuff, but you get really committed to the story, I’ll give you that.

    JAMES: Um, thanks, Mum.

    They smile at each other genuinely

     
    • nowve666 18:41 on April 4, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      “Pleased to meet you.” Where you been? I can show you incredible things.
      They sit in silence for a few moments. Then, JAMES’S MOTHER asks why JAMES told a lie a certain way, when he had told similar lies in a consistent, but different way.

      JAMES’S MOTHER: Why didn’t you just follow the same pattern?”
      Criminal versatility?

      Like

      • James 05:45 on April 5, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        Nvm, I found it.

        Like

        • nowve666 09:28 on April 5, 2017 Permalink | Reply

          I just copied it, selecting the text and Ctrl-C. The text of your blog has italics in it which I guess you put there by selecting the Italic icon in the editor or by just doing Ctrl-I.

          Like

    • nowve666 21:14 on April 4, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      Hey! Do your parents know you’re a psychopath?

      Like

    • Amaterasu Solar 23:09 on April 4, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      Interestingly, I find that I like You a lot, James. Would trust You as far as I could throw You…which, as an old, arthritic lady, is nil. But I like You.

      Liked by 1 person

      • James 04:28 on April 5, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        Lol that is funny.

        Liked by 1 person

      • James 05:43 on April 5, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        Most people who know me, like me. What I lack in trustworthiness, I make up for with personality 😉

        Liked by 1 person

        • Amaterasu Solar 21:36 on April 5, 2017 Permalink | Reply

          Serves You well, no doubt. [smile]

          Liked by 1 person

          • James 08:33 on April 6, 2017 Permalink | Reply

            What do you like about me? 🙂

            Liked by 1 person

            • Amaterasu Solar 09:08 on April 6, 2017 Permalink | Reply

              i like Your willingness to “fess up” (presuming it’s a true account, which I think it likely is). I like Your intellect and Your way of Self examination. I like that You do not resort to ad hominem (as witnessed in a previous exchange with anOther). I like the debonair quality You exude. I suspect that You would be fun to spend time with, provided One does not take anything You might say to heart. [smile]

              Liked by 1 person

              • James 07:45 on April 8, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                Thank you, that comment seems sincere, and altogether too charitable. You’re not half bad yourself 🙂

                The exact script is almost certainly wrong, such is the atrocious state of human memory, but the gist of the exchanges is all true.

                Liked by 1 person

    • Amaterasu Solar 12:32 on April 8, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      I surely did not expect a verbatim recounting. I figured it was a general portrayal. [smile] Indeed, I always express from the heart, and I meant every word I said. “Charitable?” Not at all. It is what I pick up from You. And thanks. For a conspiracy analysis, I guess I do ok, eh? [grin]

      Like

    • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 11:13 on April 13, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      Thank you for this from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for all you have contributed. I am truly sorry that I have neglected you in this regard.

      Liked by 2 people

    • bloodyfuckingdiatribe 14:32 on June 2, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      “Life of James: A Heart-Worming Tale”

      Liked by 2 people

  • James 01:26 on March 18, 2017 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: bad parenting, blast from the past, , , , , daughter, , , evil kids, , , kids, , , parenting, psycho kids, , , , shaming, , son   

    Interview with the mother of a psychopath 

    In which I interview Tina Taylor about her experiences as a mother of two (Pauleen, a psychopath and Marc, a neurotypical). What she talks about is as interesting as it is important to anyone reading who has a psychopath in the family. The interview was originally conducted last year. 

    Fox

    James Renard: Thank you for agreeing to do this. If I ask a question you don’t like, please just say so rather than making up an answer. Alright, could you briefly state the names and ages of your children, then tell us a little bit about their infancy? 

    Tina Taylor: My children are Pauleen, now 25, and Marc, now 18. Pauleen was a very easy baby. She only cried twice her whole life, and never as an infant. I just put her on a schedule for feeding because she might otherwise starve to death without a peep. I thought I was so lucky because of how easy I had it. She didn’t have terrible twos nor terrible threes. She only had one tantrum (because she wanted something in a store) but I didn’t give in. Starting at age two, she said, and did, some bizarre things out of the blue that stuck in my head – saying things such as, “Mommy, everybody thinks that I’m prettier than you.” I guess it was a competition. Other than that, I thought everything was smooth sailing until she hit age 6 when the lying was noticeable. Marc was a handful as a baby. He cried a lot during the first few months. He was very emotional during his twos and threes, but he did not stress me because he was so loving and cooperative. Starting from age two, he spoke truthfully, and I trust him completely. I did notice during their childhood that Marc’s behavior was markedly different from Pauleen’s. Marc was a difficult baby, but grew to be just such a joyful and helpful person. Pauleen was an easy baby but grew to complaining about everything and making offhand remarks.

    JR: I can imagine even psychopaths are terrible liars at 6. What was the most outrageously unbelievable lie that sticks out in your mind? Also, would you say that even while they were very young, you found it easier to get on with Marc than Pauleen?

    TT: I always had fun with Marc at every age. Pauleen switched from easygoing to impossible at age six. Her first grade teacher evaluated her and she was put on ADHD meds. It only partially helped. She pretended to take the meds and had us wondering why it wasn’t working. Did you know that psychopathy is a form of attention deficit, too? When Pauleen was 4 she said a man came in the apartment and put a knife to her belly. That was the whole story. It was very matter-of-fact, no hysterics, nothing. At the time, I did not know what to make of it.

    JR: No, I didn’t know that about attention deficit, and though I’m not surprised there’s a connection, it might be more a case of psychopathic behaviour being mistaken for ADHD.

    I’m sure it became noticeable to Pauleen that you were more easygoing with Marc. Do you think she may have ever felt less loved than her brother? Might she have been jealous of your closeness to Marc? So when she switched from “easygoing to impossible”, how did you react? Did you feel positive about your ability to overcome the problem or were you lost? How did the way you treated her change? 

    TT: When Marc was just newborn, Pauleen told her grandmother that I don’t love her anymore. Pauleen and I could never develop a closeness because what she did and said made me want to hide from her. Of course she noticed that I was more easy going with Marc as time went by. I was totally lost. I couldn’t understand why. I didn’t even realize how odd it was that she never cried, until she finally cried when she was a teenager and I was dumbstruck. She had never needed comforting her whole life. It looked fake because her face was not stressed, she just had tears. It gave me a weird feeling. The way I treated her was terrible. I could not handle her behavior and I did not know what to do at all. I went to counselling, but I still grew distanced from her every day. We used to sit and watch TV and say absolutely nothing to each other like strangers. This is why psychopathy badly needs to be identified in children. Parents could do a better job than I did at raising a psychopath. Psychopathic adults could advise what their needs were as children. I am very accepting of her psychopathy nowadays, but it is too late. Well, even though I accept that she has a condition that is not her fault, I don’t trust her at all. There is the matter of lying to me and stealing from me that makes me uncomfortable about having her in my home.

    JR: What can I say except thank you for having the courage to share that. It does take courage to admit screwing up as a parent. And gives a lot of context to your work and makes it very easy to see the motivation for your work. 

    So you were parenting from a position of ignorance, through no fault of your own, but you made those mistakes. That you have raised a well-adjusted son is evidence that you are a good mother, but you were completely unprepared to deal with a psychopath. Looking back, what would you have done differently? More importantly, what mistakes did you make that you would bunch together in a list of “don’ts” for other parents of psychopaths? 

    TT: Looking back, had I known that Pauleen had psychopathy, I would not have taken her biting remarks so hard. I would have seen her differently. For the most part, I believe I did a good job of making her mostly prosocial. I always believed in the positive reward system for children instead of punishment, and I did my best to do that. Pauleen especially was more motivated by rewards because the threat of punishment meant nothing to her. I hear now there are studies in the prisons on that philosophy for psychopathic antisocial criminals. I would not say that my son is well-adjusted. He has been living with his psychopath father since he was eleven. His father does rotten things to him and my son is a doormat, just like how I became from being raised by my psychopath father. I am not going into detail about why he lives there, but at the time he started living there, we only saw the mask of Harlan’s good-guy act. A list of don’ts is only one thing – don’t let distancing set in. I would say primarily to parents of psychopaths: Understand that your child is stuck at age 5 emotionally. This means that when the psychopathic child acts selfishly or impulsively, try to remember that it’s their permanent neurological condition.

    JR: No matter how much in the dark you were, there was another person in your daughter’s life who should have understood her better: her father, a psychopath. Were there any signs that he recognised what Pauleen was and had a better idea of what he was doing with her?

    TT: Both Pauleen’s father and step-father are psychopaths. (They are completely different from each other.) Pauleen’s father refused to have anything to do with her until she was 16. That was after he had a stroke. Maybe it changed something. Harlan is Pauleen’s stepfather, and he oddly made her the scapegoat and butt of his jokes. At the time, I thought he was unkind because she was his stepchild. I subconsciously made excuses for him because I was raised in the same type of environment. I did not realize what a dysfunctional family I had until it was too late. Harlan told me, after our separation, that he could not recognize others like him. That was probably a lie.

    JR: We’ve clashed on this 5 year-old thing before (though I think last time you said 2 year-old, so it looks like I’m winning, forcing you to concede years of development!). But the essence of what you’re saying about the permanence of the state is excellent advice. Furthermore they should, as parents, accept and love their child regardless. Everyone else gets a choice. If your friend, colleague, brother, girlfriend etc is a psychopath and you want out, you know where the door is. If your child is a psychopath, tough. You stick with them for as long as they need you. Anyway, since I’ve gone all Fox News and am moralising at the interviewee (I’m thumping the desk as I type), let’s move on…

    TT: Your lack of empathy is quite apparent. What you did is very FOX, in that all of their employees are psychopaths, right? Telling me about how people should stick by their children no matter what is bizarre since you have no frame of reference. It would be considered abusive – it is called shaming. Psychopaths are famous for it. On top of that, you can’t possibly know anything about sticking with someone. You drop people all the time. I’m sure parents give their kids over to foster care all the time because they can’t deal with them. Your lecture on human behavior holds no water. I can’t be shamed anymore. If someone doesn’t like how I do things, that’s their problem, not mine.

    JR: You keep saying “until it was too late” as though someone went on a murder spree because you didn’t act quick enough. You’re not in that shitty relationship anymore, you’ve woken up to reality and nobody’s dead (I assume), so it’s more of a victory for you than some terrible defeat.

    TT: I said it’s too late for 2 reasons: If I had known about the psychopathy at the time that I was dealing with it, I would have tried different things. My daughter had a few neurofeedback sessions to treat her ADHD and that worked very well for improving her self-control. I would have had her continue the sessions longer, and made it a priority in spite of the hardships I was having at the time. My daughter and I might still have a relationship today. Secondly, if I had known about the psychopathy at the time, I would not have felt so bewildered and off-balance by my husband’s peculiar words and actions, and I would not have gotten divorced. I would have dealt with it differently and the kids would not have had to suffer the consequences. Those are things that can’t be undone.

    JR: “I believe I did a good job of making her mostly prosocial.” Tell me about that. What makes her prosocial? And how do you reconcile this confidence in your success with the complete lack of trust in her to not steal your belongings? 

    Pauleen is mostly prosocial. That is a contradiction of sorts because really no psychopath is truly prosocial. You all make your own rules and only pretend to be a part of society. I guess Pauleen plays her part, she works, she goes to college, and she is not a jailbird. But, she has lots of secret antisocial parts, too.

    JR: Don’t we all.

    Thank you, Tina, for taking the time to talk to me. I’m sure the readers will agree you’ve given a fascinating insight into the mind of a psychopath’s mother.

     
    • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 10:01 on March 18, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      I just want to clarify that when I said “The way I treated her was terrible”, that did not mean abuse. I would do things like turn up the car radio when she was talking incessantly, or I would shut myself in my room for hours.

      Like

    • Emily Court 11:43 on March 18, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      I understand what it is like to raise a child with EBD or special needs, and how difficult it is for parents.
      My child had PTSD and severe emotional/behavioral struggles related to trauma, abuse, homelessness and developing an abusive attachment with father at a young age. My child struggled from a young age and father refused, and prevented, me from seeking help or support. We were totally isolated, and forced to keep my child’s behavior a secret… when what was really needed is open-ness, therapy and family support.
      It wasn’t until I fled the abuse that I could seek help.. and by then my child was near a breaking point. My child would bang his head on the wall and tell me he did that because “the pain makes the bad memories go away”. My child was also very violent, would swear at me (as his father did) and would lie, steal and even hurt others or pets. The abusive ex continued to attempt to prevent treatment and therapy by using the family courts… saying my child didn’t need treatment, he only needed to spend time with father.. and falsely accusing me of mental illness to block my attempts to get help. My child disclosed abuse in therapy as well, included being choked and witnessing his sister being inappropriately touched (therapist called CPS).
      What I learned – is that families need support and intensive help for the WHOLE family not just the affected child. I had to devote my time to seeking help for my child, but also had to deal with how the abuse affected me, and our family as a whole. Financial support is also important. My child needed intensive services that included in-home care, and as a parent I had to give so much to work with him.. that it was impossible for me to work. Caring for my child was a full-time job. I had to apply for public assistance and food stamps, and lived in the lowest level of poverty.. but that was what was needed.
      Another thing I learned is that when your child is acting out or having a tantrum or otherwise struggling.. you as a parent also need help or support. Especially if you are a single parent or have a history of abuse. There has to be an outlet for the parent to get non-judgmental, caring support. Or to take time to just take care of themselves. Or to get further educated on your child’s condition, and learning skills and techniques to work with the child. Or to talk and connect with other parents. Respite care or mentorship or support groups for children is really important. NAMI even offers a support group for siblings, that includes giving kids a few hours to play, enjoy a meal, and receive some extra TLC.
      And the last thing I want to say… the family court, CPS, social workers, therapists, educators etc need to be better educated and trained. To include learning from parents and adult children. The system is set up to assign blame, which is not healing and makes things worse. And if the system can not properly identify abuse, children’s lives are put at risk. Intervention is key and professionals can be instrumental in helping families… and assisting in the recovery and treatment of needy children. This may improve outcomes.
      In my situation, the family court awarded SOLE custody to the identified abuser. My child has never fully recovered… his behavior has improved but emotionally, mentally and socially he continues to struggle… but I believe that is because I did seek help, and fought with every breath in my body to address the issues… in my home my child and my family sought help. And for a time we were able to rebuild our lives, I hope he takes that with him.. as he now struggles to survive in an abusive, dysfunctional environment.
      Thank you for sharing! xx

      Liked by 1 person

    • nowve666 13:44 on March 18, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      Hey, guys! Nice to see you on the blogosphere again. Tina wrote, “When Marc was just newborn, Pauleen told her grandmother that I don’t love her anymore. Pauleen and I could never develop a closeness because what she did and said made me want to hide from her. Of course she noticed that I was more easy going with Marc as time went by.” My mother had a similar issue with me and my sister but I had no idea until I got access to an interview my mother had with a social worker in which she confided these things to her. I must say, it was a shock. My mom was very good at hiding her true feelings.
      Tina: “I would not say that my son is well-adjusted. He has been living with his psychopath father since he was eleven. His father does rotten things to him and my son is a doormat, just like how I became from being raised by my psychopath father. “His father has custody?” I don’t know the circumstances but, all things being equal, I think the mother should be the one with custody. Call me old-fashioned.
      James wrote, “We’ve clashed on this 5 year-old thing before (though I think last time you said 2 year-old, so it looks like I’m winning, forcing you to concede years of development!).” Oh, I remember that! “The girl I [was looking after at the time of the interview] will be 5 in September and I have considerably more emotional maturity than her [she will be 6 now].” You’ve been looking after a toddler, James? Of course, we are more mature than a five-year-old.
      Tina: “shaming. Psychopaths are famous for it.” So are NTs. I think NTs do it more than we do. “you can’t possibly know anything about sticking with someone.” But we know about sticking it to someone. Will that do? 😉
      Tina: “Pauleen is mostly prosocial. That is a contradiction of sorts because really no psychopath is truly prosocial.” I quite agree! I really don’t like that term.

      My father once said to me, “You didn’t turn out the way I wanted but you turned out the way you wanted and that’s what matters.” I think that was very cool of him.

      Thanks for this interesting discussion.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Amaterasu Solar 19:20 on March 18, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      Excellent interview! Thank You both! I was fascinated.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Anon 16:06 on March 24, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      Excellent interview.

      I was fascinated by the replies, and even more fascinated by how James was framing you as a ‘bad’ parent.

      ‘Do you think she may have ever felt less loved than her brother?’

      ‘It does take courage to admit screwing up as a parent.’

      ‘Furthermore they should, as parents, accept and love their child regardless.’ (Not true – I’ve read several accounts by parents of Ps about how they tried to feel love but it wasn’t there – no connection. Anyhow, James is just repeating words without understanding the emotions if he’s a P)

      ‘No matter how much in the dark you were, there was another person in your daughter’s life who should have understood her better: her father, a psychopath.’ (Yes, he would have understood exactly how to screw her up)

      Finally, he had fun with the tags, making sure that the very first one (low on the alphabet) was a completely new one, ‘bad parenting’ – oh, and ‘child abuse’ was the third one. Bit of dupers delight going on there I’m sure.

      Liked by 1 person

      • James 18:30 on March 24, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        Hi, Anon. Thanks for reading. Your theories are interesting, but you’re clutching at straws. If I had as devious a mind as that, well then I guess I’d be you, since you came up with all that yourself.

        I don’t expect you to believe me, nor do I care since you’re just stirring the pot and possibly don’t even believe what you’ve written yourself, but Tina knows there’s been about a 18 month gap between this interview being conducted and published. If I were playing the sick little game that you suggest, it wouldn’t have dragged on that long.

        Incidentally, since you’re obsessed about the tags – which by the way are simply there to encourage more search engine hits – you’ll notice I also used “evil kids” and “psycho kids”. Both, along with “child abuse” and “bad parent” are the kind of sensationalist rot more people are going to Google than “Interview with the mother of a psychopath.” But no. You’re right. It’s all just a big nasty joke from the big nasty “P”.

        Liked by 1 person

      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 05:46 on March 27, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        I agree with your assessments. Psychopaths do psychopathic things. As I have observed my family, it seems to me that they don’t always intend to be awful to others, but they just are, incidentally/accidentally, in order to accomplish their task with blinders on. And, they are not sorry. I have ceased to be shocked or disappointed in “being victimized”, and say to myself, “Well, this is just something a psychopath would do.” I used to agonize over it years ago, before I started learning about psychopathy.

        Like

        • James 18:43 on March 27, 2017 Permalink | Reply

          That’s it, side with the troll. Might have known you wouldn’t back me up. No sense of loyalty at all, and yet I’m the “psychopath”…

          Like

          • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 19:11 on March 27, 2017 Permalink | Reply

            Weird

            Like

            • James 19:19 on March 27, 2017 Permalink | Reply

              What’s weird? That I am disappointed you seem to value the words of an anonymous stranger over those of someone you’ve known for over 2 years? The Anon shared its theory, I rebuked with evidence, but apparently the crazy theory is to be believed over the actual truth.

              Like

              • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 19:21 on March 27, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                Um, ok. Just giving my view and experience and you take it as a personal threat, and taking sides.

                Like

                • James 19:27 on March 27, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                  What I am saying is I would have thought that by now if I laid out my reason for doing something, you would accept is as true. No more or less.

                  Like

                  • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 03:01 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                    I do accept it as true. Take a closer look.

                    Like

                    • James 11:54 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                      I would like to know where to look. If you accept Anon’s assessments as true, then implicitly my reply is false in your view, as my reply contradicts Anon’s statement. Either one is true, or neither are, but they can’t both be. Which is it?

                      Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 11:58 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                        What my post says is that I agree with her assessments of your actions, but it was not intentional. Just like now, you are unintentionally aggravating me…I’m tired.

                        Like

                      • James 12:01 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                      • James 12:17 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                        Well?

                        Like

                      • James 13:17 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                        Well that’s slightly better, but still patronising. I am aware of how and why I do things, thank you. And your aggravation is certainly intentional (that’s what happens when you aggravate me, I hit back), just as you seem hell bent on winding me up every few weeks or so. You should just apologise for once in your life, and admit you were wrong.

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 14:53 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                        I knew it was intended , I was just checking by playing dumb. I will give you the psychopathic apology. I am so sorry that you were aggravated by whatever the hell I don’t even know nor care and I hope to never do the whatever whenever if I can help it.

                        Liked by 1 person

                      • James 16:22 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                        You’re funny when you’re angry.

                        Like

                      • James 16:24 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                        However, that was still fucking pathetic, and another low blow that wasn’t called for. You do know what aggravated me, and you’re not a psychopath. Even I give a proper apology when I understand why something was wrong. Apology not accepted.

                        Like

                      • James 16:28 on March 28, 2017 Permalink

                        Do you admit you got it wrong?

                        Like

              • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 03:03 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                You are disappointed? I can’t do am u thing about that.

                Like

          • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 19:14 on March 27, 2017 Permalink | Reply

            It’s all about taking sides and “winning”.

            Like

          • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 03:05 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

            A sense of loyalty? Here’s the shaming, to be expected. Weird, once again.

            Like

            • James 12:01 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

              No, I expect loyalty to those who I have shown loyalty to. That’s very fair, I think. If you’re incapable of that, then just say so.

              Like

              • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 19:34 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                This loyalty thing you want is stupid. I don’t understand loyalty, and I will never care about it. So take that to somebody else.

                Like

                • James 20:31 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                  Which explains why your social life seems to be rather empty. No but seriously, if that’s true, you definitely have a personality disorder. Or maybe, as I’ve often suspected, you’re more of a psychopath than you care to admit not just “genetically”, but actually…

                  I am taking it to you, not someone else, and I need you to understand. Put simply, I have been friendly to / stuck up for you in the past, so I expect you to do the same, and not ‘side with’ (yes, I admit it!) the first person to come along and make up a story about me. Do you understand that or not?

                  Honestly, this is not some weird psychopathic demand, pretty much everybody expects a friend to take their side over that of a stranger. It’s not unnatural, and it’s not stupid. If you can’t wrap your head around that, you lose all of your friends pretty quickly (trust me, I’ve done it a fair few times. Now I use disloyalty as a quick way to get rid of someone I’m fed up with) Maybe you don’t care about that either.

                  As for not understanding loyalty, well how did it feel when one of the long-term husbands / whatever the men who gave you children were cheated on you? That was disloyalty to you, a betrayal in other words. How about loyalty to your children? Surely you would support them over pretty much anyone else, barring any games your daughter might be up to.

                  Now what we’re talking about here (your siding with Anon) is more minor than that, but it’s still hurtful.

                  So now have the information, what are you going to do? An apology seems pretty unlikely at this point, but other than that, where will you go? Minimising my feelings? Giving me some pseudo-psychological “that’s what psychopaths do” lecture? Telling me “this shows you don’t understand human emotion, bla bla.” Some non-sequitur like “eww”? Or another “I don’t care, leave me alone” as above? Go on, surprise me. Because at this point, you’re becoming predictable.

                  Like

                  • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 20:51 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                    Too bad for me, then.

                    Like

                    • James 20:52 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

                      A non-sequitur then. Write a proper answer.

                      Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 13:01 on March 29, 2017 Permalink

                        No shits given due to psyche problems developed from exposure to psychopaths. Understand yet?

                        Like

                      • James 19:46 on March 29, 2017 Permalink

                        I understand what you want me to believe of you, yes. As usual, blaming all your ills on psychopaths, but if an impartial observer were watching us now, who had to decide which one of us was behaving more psycho, I don’t think it would be me!

                        What are you so wary of, that you won’t engage with my previous long comment? You’re normally so keen to argue til the cows come home; that’s why psychopaths like you. If you’re numb and no shits are given, then what’s the worst that could happen? Just play along, humour me my little request to join the conversation.

                        Just as a reminder, because I’m thoughtful like that: “As for not understanding loyalty, well how did it feel when one of the long-term husbands / whatever the men who gave you children were cheated on you? That was disloyalty to you, a betrayal in other words. How about loyalty to your children? Surely you would support them over pretty much anyone else, barring any games your daughter might be up to.”

                        It’s just an extension to the interview really.

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 19:51 on March 29, 2017 Permalink

                        Loyalty means nothing to a psychopath. Stop pushing this loyalty thing because you look hypocritical and I no longer believe in it because of people like you.

                        Like

                      • James 10:42 on March 30, 2017 Permalink

                        Except I’m not hypocritical, as I conform to my own standards of loyalty and treat people how I expect to be treated. I can’t help how people have treated you in the past, nor am I responsible for their behaviour. You don’t know me, so you don’t know what kind of person I am, and you can’t say what means something to me or not. Speak for yourself.

                        If you point me to one occasion where I have betrayed you to a stranger, and taken the side of someone aggravating you, I will hold my hands up and admit to being a hypocrite. But I strongly believe that there has been no such occasion, and what’s more that over the years I have tried my hardest to be fair and friendly towards you, given you advice, gratefully received your advice, made jokes with you, attempted to understand you, though I admit we have had many disagreements and arguments. Like I said, if you can point out a single betrayal of you by me, I promise to drop this matter immediately. But if you can’t, I equally promise to keep pushing this, because you have done me an injustice and I will not accept anything short of an apology.

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 11:14 on March 30, 2017 Permalink

                        What is ridiculous is that speaking my own mind is considered a betrayal. You’re right, I don’t know you, leave off with the loyalty crap whoever you are.

                        Like

                      • James 19:41 on March 31, 2017 Permalink

                        OK, so our conversations meant nothing then. What was the point to them? Jack shit, it seems. I guess there’s no point whatsoever in trying to be your friend, as there’s nothing to be gained but snide comments and insincerity.

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 22:13 on March 31, 2017 Permalink

                        What is your real name?

                        Like

                      • James 14:12 on April 4, 2017 Permalink

                        James, of course. Why use a pseudonym when my real name is already perfect?

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 03:17 on April 7, 2017 Permalink

                        I still don’t know you. As eloquently as you speak, your disorder is glaringly obvious to me. The point of this blog is to psychopath test politicians, and you are the perfect example for why – their ability to appear sound of mind on the surface. Firstly you would expect my “loyalty”, and then you respond with disbelief in my answers. Insincerity and snide remarks? YOU are the one who owes me an apology. But, guess what, I don’t want one because I expect snakes to be snakes. And as a point of fact, I DO blame psychopaths for all my ills. It is my father who made me dysfunctional.

                        Like

                      • James 07:36 on April 8, 2017 Permalink

                        How old are you, late thirties, forty-something? You can’t blame your parents for all your problems forever, take responsibility for yourself and get help if you need it.

                        You can’t alter one nanosecond of the past, but we all have the power to shape our own futures. From my perspective, everyone else spends an inordinate amount of time looking back and ruminating about things that have already happened. I know guilt and difficult emotions get in the way for other people a lot, but surely sometimes it’s better just to draw and line in the sand and let go?

                        As for the rest, when you’ve pinned down just what I’m supposed to be apologising for other than the vague crime of being a psychopath and psychopath = bad, mmkay, do let me know. Third time of asking.

                        You’re often telling me my disorder is “glaringly obvious”. So…? What do you expect me to do with that information? You’ve known what I am, through my own admission, since the very first time we ‘met’, and you’ve been around enough psychopaths to know how I ‘should’ behave, so pretty much any time I do behave in the way you expect, a little bell probably goes off in your head, and you add that bit of behaviour to the list of past behaviour, while disregarding anything which doesn’t fit the mould. It’s called confirmation bias. So what is supposed to
                        be significant about you telling me how obvious I am? Genuine question.

                        Beyond that, you don’t have to ‘know me’; that’s pretty deliberate on my part anyway – as you know – but if you could just do the charitable thing and treat me in the same way I have treated you, that would be grand.

                        As a reminder, I am not your father; nor am I a surrogate onto which you can project all of the negative emotions you rightly feel toward your father.

                        Liked by 1 person

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 11:54 on April 8, 2017 Permalink

                        You have no clue.

                        Like

                      • James 12:50 on April 8, 2017 Permalink

                        About…? Life in general, presumably 🙂 “The wise man knows himself to be a fool” – a better version of what Socrates may have said.

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 12:09 on April 9, 2017 Permalink

                        You said: “You can’t blame your parents for all your problems forever, take responsibility for yourself and get help if you need it.” Apparently, you think to blame someone is unhealthy. An abusive person is/was responsible for permanent damage to me physiologically. Me getting “help” does not eliminate his responsibility. Telling me to get help is like telling a homosexual to stop being gay. As for the apology, you don’t owe me because you are a psychopath. You owe me because you accused me. I won’t get one because you are a psychopath. I wasn’t telling you that you are bad, just that you are you. Also, I wasn’t giving you information about your psychopathy being glaringly obvious… I was giving it to the readers to know that they would not recognize it, and they need to conduct psychopathy testing. Treat you in the same way you treat me? What exactly did I do? And hell no, you are not my father. I just spent the last 2 weeks with him and everything was peachy. He’s a psychopath, so what. Just don’t vote him into office.

                        Like

                      • James 13:55 on April 12, 2017 Permalink

                        Let me respond to the bits of your comment I accept before moving on to being more argumentative.

                        I’ve clearly badly misread the situation with your father, so my wild theories can be ignored and scorned as you wish 🙂 Though I confess it’s odd to me that you can both simultaneously blame him for everything and want to spend a significant amount of time with him.

                        “Also, I wasn’t giving you information about your psychopathy being glaringly obvious… I was giving it to the readers to know that they would not recognize it.” Absolutely fine, that makes sense. Another good idea would be to spell out what ‘nefarious tactics’ I / another psychopath was using in a given written comment. That would give readers clearer practical examples, and may improve their analytical skills for navigating their own dealings with psychopaths.

                        And now to where we still disagree. I still don’t understand what I’m supposed to be apologising for. My “accusation” was an angry response to your agreement with Anon’s untrue accusation that I was playing a manipulative game with this article (this is “what you did”). I would have thought that my general behaviour and treatment of you thus far (i.e. in the past 2 years) would give you enough of an idea of my character that I wouldn’t stoop to such a tawdry level of trivial games, even (as you speculated) unintentionally. I felt betrayed that you sided with a troll writing lies over a friend’s account of what he was doing. At least, I consider you an online friend. Maybe it’s not mutual. Note that any answer to this with “But you’re a psychopath, so clearly you were manipulating, and now you’re lying to get out of it” is not a convincing answer, as that would be allowing the concept psychopathy as a condition to supersede what I have actually done and written, looking at the label and not the person. To reiterate, I did not do any of the things Anon accused me of, and I would appreciate your recognition of this fact.

                        “Apparently, you think to blame someone is unhealthy.” – not as such. To blame someone for absolutely everything wrong with your life, and by virtue of that belief abdicate all present and future responsibility to change your life, is irrational and absurd. Of course seeking help doesn’t absolve your father’s responsibility, but you don’t seek help in order to punish others, you seek it to enrich yourself.

                        As for your analogy with gays, it doesn’t hold water. Telling a gay person to get help is a form of prejudice, telling someone with mental health problems to get help is common sense.

                        Let’s look at this in a bit more detail. Gay people don’t have a problem, the problem is with certain societal attitudes. The LGBT community doesn’t need help to change who we are, other people need to change their prejudices about us.

                        On the other hand, your psychological damage is a problem, at the very least for you, and possibly for others around you. You’re not responsible for there being a problem, but you do suffer from the problem, so I would have thought you would grasp at any chance you could to try and get out. You can claim it’s “permanent damage” and just leave it at that without even exploring any opportunities for change or consulting doctors with rather more knowledge on the subject of brains than you, but if it were me, I would try everything I could to get help. For example, I don’t just let my brain fuck me over with depression, I have been seeking help from various sources for over a year.Though if you would rather be miserable, that is your privilege 🙂

                        Sorry for the delay, I have lots of work on. I enjoy talking to you.

                        Liked by 1 person

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 04:45 on April 13, 2017 Permalink

                        I won’t be discussing my problems, or even try to explain love and family dynamics, so don’t worry your pretty little head. We disagree with each other on your intent to weird me out with your questions. No apologies needed. Maybe you should get help with your anger over trying to control my thoughts on the matter.

                        Like

                      • James 05:57 on April 13, 2017 Permalink

                        Alright, no need to be so bloody patronising and rude about it. That’s exactly what I’m talking about! I write a friendly, polite, well-reasoned, albeit certainly overlong comment, and you reply with more provocation and crazy suggestions, which my pretty little head has had enough of.

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 07:14 on April 13, 2017 Permalink

                        I thought you knew ME by mow.

                        Like

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 07:26 on April 13, 2017 Permalink

                        In fact, you have driven me to the crazy. I would speak my mind more on the matter, but it would only infuriate you further because I would be my usual blunt self. Thanks for shutting this thread down already.

                        Like

                      • James 10:26 on April 13, 2017 Permalink

                        Have I? That sounds an awful lot like blame shifting. You were making the crazy statements about me long before I pointed them out as such, and I don’t see how I can be held responsible for what you write and say. That’s a textbook manipulative tactic of abusers if ever there was one. “If I act badly, it’s only because you did x, y and z to drive me to misbehave.” Classic.

                        I’m not infuriated, though I will add that your “usual blunt self” is not as incidental as you claim, nor should the people on this blog be forced to endure your bluntness on the pretext of “that’s just who you are”. You would not be “blunt” (i.e. rude) to your customers, colleagues, business associates, otherwise you wouldn’t be in business for long. Presumably you also stay your acid tongue for the most part when with friends, otherwise once again you would be friendless, and I’m sure you’re not that. There is a measure, therefore, to which you choose to be rude and snide to me, and that is unfair, and from my view unwarranted.

                        All I’m asking is a fair exchange of respect among equals; if I’m able to adhere to basic decency in our discussions, then you are too, not being (as I am) afflicted with an overwhelming selfishness and lack of intuitive grasp of morality. It should be a piece of cake, in fact. Mmm, cake.

                        By all means, speak your mind. But there is no reason to be rude as you do it. If you think this is an unreasonable request, then by all means say so, but be prepared to justify yourself.

                        Liked by 1 person

                      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 11:00 on April 13, 2017 Permalink

                        I told you some time ago that I was aggravated, and to leave off, but to no avail. I apologize for unleashing my foul mood upon you and the readers.

                        Liked by 1 person

                      • James 13:37 on April 13, 2017 Permalink

                        Thank you, this is appreciated.

                        Like

            • James 16:29 on March 28, 2017 Permalink | Reply

              This remains unaddressed. Can I expect better loyalty in the future?

              Like

    • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 19:54 on March 29, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      And for the record, no shits given about James’ childish rantings.

      Like

      • James 10:28 on March 30, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        I may be childish and petty, but I’m hardly ranting. You come across as being stressed out.

        Liked by 1 person

  • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 11:55 on January 28, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , conduct disorder, , , , parenting, , , ,   

    Can You Call a 9-Year-Old a Psychopath? 

    One day last summer, Anne and her husband, Miguel, took their 9-year-old son, Michael, to a Florida elementary school for the first day of what the family chose to call “summer camp.” For years, Anne and Miguel have struggled to understand their eldest son, an elegant boy with high-planed cheeks, wide eyes and curly light brown hair, whose periodic rages alternate with moments of chilly detachment. Michael’s eight-week program was, in reality, a highly structured psychological study — less summer camp than camp of last resort.

    Michael’s problems started, according to his mother, around age 3, shortly after his brother Allan was born. At the time, she said, Michael was mostly just acting “like a brat,” but his behavior soon escalated to throwing tantrums during which he would scream and shriek inconsolably. These weren’t ordinary toddler’s fits. “It wasn’t, ‘I’m tired’ or ‘I’m frustrated’ — the normal things kids do,” Anne remembered. “His behavior was really out there. And it would happen for hours and hours each day, no matter what we did.” For several years, Michael screamed every time his parents told him to put on his shoes or perform other ordinary tasks, like retrieving one of his toys from the living room. “Going somewhere, staying somewhere — anything would set him off,” Miguel said. These furies lasted well beyond toddlerhood. At 8, Michael would still fly into a rage when Anne or Miguel tried to get him ready for school, punching the wall and kicking holes in the door. Left unwatched, he would cut up his trousers with scissors or methodically pull his hair out. He would also vent his anger by slamming the toilet seat down again and again until it broke.

    When Anne and Miguel first took Michael to see a therapist, he was given a diagnosis of “firstborn syndrome”: acting out because he resented his new sibling. While both parents acknowledged that Michael was deeply hostile to the new baby, sibling rivalry didn’t seem sufficient to explain his consistently extreme behavior.

    By the time he turned 5, Michael had developed an uncanny ability to switch from full-blown anger to moments of pure rationality or calculated charm — a facility that Anne describes as deeply unsettling. “You never know when you’re going to see a proper emotion,” she said. She recalled one argument, over a homework assignment, when Michael shrieked and wept as she tried to reason with him. “I said: ‘Michael, remember the brainstorming we did yesterday? All you have to do is take your thoughts from that and turn them into sentences, and you’re done!’ He’s still screaming bloody murder, so I say, ‘Michael, I thought we brainstormed so we could avoid all this drama today.’ He stopped dead, in the middle of the screaming, turned to me and said in this flat, adult voice, ‘Well, you didn’t think that through very clearly then, did you?’ ”

    Anne and Miguel live in a small coastal town south of Miami, the kind of place where children ride their bikes on well-maintained cul-de-sacs. (To protect the subjects’ privacy, only first or middle names have been used.) The morning I met them was overcast and hot. Seated on a sofa in the family’s spacious living room, Anne sipped a Coke Zero while her two younger sons — Allan, 6, and Jake, 2 — played on the carpet. So far, she said, neither of the younger boys exhibited problems like Michael’s.

    At 37, Anne is voluble and frank. She had recently started managing a food truck, and the day we met, she was in Florida business mufti: a Bluetooth headset and iPhone, jean shorts and a fluorescent green tank top emblazoned with the name of her business. Miguel is more reserved. A former commercial pilot who now works as a real estate agent, he often acted as the family’s mediator, negotiating tense moments with the calm of a man who has landed planes in stormy conditions.

    “In the beginning, I thought it was us,” Miguel said, as his two younger sons played loudly with a toy car. “But Michael defies logic. You do things by the book, and he’s still off the wall. We became so tired of fighting with him in public that we really cut back on our social life.”

    Over the last six years, Michael’s parents have taken him to eight different therapists and received a proliferating number of diagnoses. “We’ve had so many people tell us so many different things,” Anne said. “Oh, it’s A.D.D. — oh, it’s not. It’s depression — or it’s not. You could open the DSM and point to a random thing, and chances are he has elements of it. He’s got characteristics of O.C.D. He’s got characteristics of sensory-integration disorder. Nobody knows what the predominant feature is, in terms of treating him. Which is the frustrating part.”

    Then last spring, the psychologist treating Michael referred his parents to Dan Waschbusch, a researcher at Florida International University. Following a battery of evaluations, Anne and Miguel were presented with another possible diagnosis: their son Michael might be a psychopath.

    For the past 10 years, Waschbusch has been studying “callous-unemotional” children — those who exhibit a distinctive lack of affect, remorse or empathy — and who are considered at risk of becoming psychopaths as adults. To evaluate Michael, Waschbusch used a combination of psychological exams and teacher- and family-rating scales, including the Inventory of Callous-Unemotional Traits, the Child Psychopathy Scale and a modified version of the Antisocial Process Screening Device — all tools designed to measure the cold, predatory conduct most closely associated with adult psychopathy. (The terms “sociopath” and “psychopath” are essentially identical.) A research assistant interviewed Michael’s parents and teachers about his behavior at home and in school. When all the exams and reports were tabulated, Michael was almost two standard deviations outside the normal range for callous-unemotional behavior, which placed him on the severe end of the spectrum.

    Currently, there is no standard test for psychopathy in children, but a growing number of psychologists believe that psychopathy, like autism, is a distinct neurological condition — one that can be identified in children as young as 5. Crucial to this diagnosis are callous-unemotional traits, which most researchers now believe distinguish “fledgling psychopaths” from children with ordinary conduct disorder, who are also impulsive and hard to control and exhibit hostile or violent behavior. According to some studies, roughly one-third of children with severe behavioral problems — like the aggressive disobedience that Michael displays — also test above normal on callous-unemotional traits. (Narcissism and impulsivity, which are part of the adult diagnostic criteria, are difficult to apply to children, who are narcissistic and impulsive by nature.)

    In some children, C.U. traits manifest in obvious ways. Paul Frick, a psychologist at the University of New Orleans who has studied risk factors for psychopathy in children for two decades, described one boy who used a knife to cut off the tail of the family cat bit by bit, over a period of weeks. The boy was proud of the serial amputations, which his parents initially failed to notice. “When we talked about it, he was very straightforward,” Frick recalls. “He said: ‘I want to be a scientist, and I was experimenting. I wanted to see how the cat would react.’ ”

    In another famous case, a 9-year-old boy named Jeffrey Bailey pushed a toddler into the deep end of a motel swimming pool in Florida. As the boy struggled and sank to the bottom, Bailey pulled up a chair to watch. Questioned by the police afterward, Bailey explained that he was curious to see someone drown. When he was taken into custody, he seemed untroubled by the prospect of jail but was pleased to be the center of attention.

    In many children, though, the signs are subtler. Callous-unemotional children tend to be highly manipulative, Frick notes. They also lie frequently — not just to avoid punishment, as all children will, but for any reason, or none. “Most kids, if you catch them stealing a cookie from the jar before dinner, they’ll look guilty,” Frick says. “They want the cookie, but they also feel bad. Even kids with severe A.D.H.D.: they may have poor impulse control, but they still feel bad when they realize that their mom is mad at them.” Callous-unemotional children are unrepentant. “They don’t care if someone is mad at them,” Frick says. “They don’t care if they hurt someone’s feelings.” Like adult psychopaths, they can seem to lack humanity. “If they can get what they want without being cruel, that’s often easier,” Frick observes. “But at the end of the day, they’ll do whatever works best.”

    The idea that a young child could have psychopathic tendencies remains controversial among psychologists. Laurence Steinberg, a psychologist at Temple University, has argued that psychopathy, like other personality disorders, is almost impossible to diagnose accurately in children, or even in teenagers — both because their brains are still developing and because normal behavior at these ages can be misinterpreted as psychopathic. Others fear that even if such a diagnosis can be made accurately, the social cost of branding a young child a psychopath is simply too high. (The disorder has historically been considered untreatable.) John Edens, a clinical psychologist at Texas A&M University, has cautioned against spending money on research to identify children at risk of psychopathy. “This isn’t like autism, where the child and parents will find support,” Edens observes. “Even if accurate, it’s a ruinous diagnosis. No one is sympathetic to the mother of a psychopath.”

    The benefits of successful treatment could be enormous. Psychopaths are estimated to make up 1 percent of the population but constitute roughly 15 to 25 percent of the offenders in prison and are responsible for a disproportionate number of brutal crimes and murders. A recent estimate by the neuroscientist Kent Kiehl placed the national cost of psychopathy at $460 billion a year — roughly 10 times the cost of depression — in part because psychopaths tend to be arrested repeatedly. (The societal costs of nonviolent psychopaths may be even higher. Robert Hare, the co-author of “Snakes in Suits,” describes evidence of psychopathy among some financiers and business people; he suspects Bernie Madoff of falling into that category.) The potential for improvement is also what separates diagnosis from determinism: a reason to treat psychopathic children rather than jail them. “As the nuns used to say, ‘Get them young enough, and they can change,’ ” Dadds observes. “You have to hope that’s true. Otherwise, what are we stuck with? These monsters.”

    When I first met Michael, he seemed shy but remarkably well behaved. While his brother Allan ran through the house with a plastic bag held overhead like a parachute, Michael entered the room aloofly, then curled up on the living room sofa, hiding his face in the cushions. “Can you come say hello?” Anne asked him. He glanced at me, then sprang cheerfully to his feet. “Sure!” he said, running to hug her. Reprimanded for bouncing a ball in the kitchen, he rolled his eyes like any 9-year-old, then docilely went outside. A few minutes later, he was back in the house, capering antically in front of Jake, who was bobbing up and down on his sit-and-ride scooter. When the scooter tipped over, Michael gasped theatrically and ran to his brother’s side. “Jake, are you O.K.?” he asked, wide-eyed with concern. Earnestly ruffling his youngest brother’s hair, he flashed me a winning smile.

    Glancing down a second later, he noticed my digital tape recorder on the table. “Did you record that?” he asked. I said that I had. He stared at me briefly before turning back to the video. When a sudden noise from the other room caused me to glance away, Michael seized the opportunity to grab the recorder and press the erase button. (Waschbusch later noted that such a calculated reprisal was unusual in a 9-year-old, who would normally go for the recorder immediately or simply whine and sulk.)

    It was tempting to scrutinize Anne and Miguel for signs of dysfunctional dynamics that might be the source of Michael’s odd behavior. But the family seemed, if anything, exceedingly normal. Watching Anne ride herd on her two younger boys that afternoon, I found her to be brusque and no-nonsense. When Allan started running around the living room and then crashing into the sofa cushions, she spoke sharply: “Allan! Stop it.” (He did.) When Jake and Allan grew whiny about a shared toy, she arbitrated the dispute with a tone of patient exasperation familiar to most parents. “Just let him play with it for five minutes, Allan, and then it’ll be your turn.” And when she grew touchy about parenting strategies — Anne favors structure and strict rules; Miguel is inclined to be lenient — Miguel listened quietly, then conceded that his relaxed approach might be “optimistic.”

    It certainly seemed so. As the night progressed, Michael’s behavior grew more violent. At one point, while Michael was downstairs, Jake clambered goofily onto the computer chair and accidentally unpaused Michael’s Pokémon video. Allan giggled, and even Miguel smiled affectionately. But the amusement was brief. Hearing Michael on the stairs, Miguel said, “Uh oh!” and whisked Jake out of the chair.

    He wasn’t fast enough. Seeing the video playing, Michael gave a keening scream, then scanned the room for the guilty party. His gaze settled on Allan. Grabbing a wooden chair, he hoisted it overhead as though to do violence but paused for several seconds, giving Miguel a chance to yank it away. Shrieking, Michael ran to the bathroom and began slamming the toilet seat down repeatedly. Dragged out and ordered to bed, he sobbed pitifully. “Daddy! Daddy! Why are you doing this to me?” he begged, as Miguel carried him to his room. “No, Daddy! I have a greater bond with you than I do with Mommy!” For the next hour, Michael sobbed and screamed, while Miguel tried to calm him. In the hall outside his room, Miguel apologized, adding that it was “an unusually bad night.”

    From the bedroom, Michael called out: “He knows the consequences, so I don’t know why he does it. I will hurt him.”

    Miguel: “No you won’t.”

    Michael: “I’m coming for you, Allan.”

    An hour later, after the boys were finally asleep, Miguel and I sat down at the kitchen table. Growing up, he said, he had also been a difficult child — albeit not so problematic as Michael. “A lot of parents didn’t want me around their kids, because they thought I was crazy,” he said, closing his eyes at the memory. “I didn’t listen to adults. I was always in trouble. My grades were horrible. I would be walking down the street and I would hear them say, in Spanish: ‘Ay! Viene el loco!’ — ‘Here comes the crazy one.’ ”

    According to Miguel, this antisocial behavior lasted until his late teens, at which point, he said, he “grew up.” When I asked what caused the change, he looked uncertain. “You learn to pacify the rough waters,” he said at last. “It just happens. You learn to control yourself from the outside in.”

    If Miguel’s trajectory seemed to offer some hope for Michael, Anne remained doubtful. Recalling the chipper hug that Michael gave her earlier that evening, she shook her head. “Two hugs in 10 minutes?” she said. “I haven’t gotten two hugs in two weeks!” She suspected that Michael had been trying to manipulate me and was using similar tricks to manipulate his therapists: conning them into believing he was making progress by behaving well during the hour that he was in treatment. “Miguel likes to think that Michael is growing and maturing,” she said. “I hate to say it, but I think that’s him developing a larger skill set of manipulation.” She paused. “He knows how to get what he wants.”

    One morning, I met up with Waschbusch at the site of his summer treatment program, a small elementary school tucked into the northwest corner of the Florida campus. Before becoming interested in psychopathy, Waschbusch specialized in attention-deficit-hyperactivity disorder, and for the past eight summers has helped run a summer-camp-style treatment program for kids with severe A.D.H.D. Last year was the first time he included a separate program for callous-unemotional, or C.U., kids — a dozen children between 8 and 11. Michael was one of his earliest referrals.

    Waschbusch’s study is one of the first to look at treatments for C.U. children. Adult psychopaths are known to respond to reward far more than punishment; Waschbusch hoped to test whether this was true in children as well. But the process had been challenging. Where the A.D.H.D. kids were disruptive and hard to control, the C.U. kids showed a capacity for mayhem — screaming, tipping over desks, running laps around the classroom — that Waschbusch called “off the charts.”

    “The thing that’s jumped out at me most is the manipulativeness that these kids are showing,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “They’re not like A.D.H.D. kids who just act impulsively. And they’re not like conduct-disorder kids, who are like: ‘Screw you and your game! Whatever you tell me, I’m going to do the opposite.’ The C.U. kids are capable of following the rules very carefully. They just use them to their advantage.”

    As we talked, Waschbusch led me to the school’s outdoor basketball court, where a highly structured game of keep-away was in progress. Initially, the game appeared almost normal. Standing in a circle, kids tried to pass the ball to one another, over the head of the kid in the middle, while the counselors gave constant feedback — praising focus and sportsmanship and taking careful note of any misbehavior. When the ball flew wide on a pass, a burly boy with short-cropped hair gave his receiver a smoldering look. “That anger — that goes beyond what you see in ordinary kids,” Waschbusch said. “These kids, they take offense easily and react disproportionately. The same is true for grudges. If one of the kids scored a goal on him” — the smolderer — “he would be furious. He would be angry at that kid for days.”

    I had observed the same intense, focused anger in Michael. One night, while Michael watched his Pokémon video, Allan climbed up to sit in the chair next to him with the strap end of a Beyblade launcher dangling from his mouth. Michael looked at him with hatred, then calmly turned back to the computer. Thirty seconds passed. Suddenly, Michael pivoted, grabbed the strap with vicious force and hurled the launcher across the room.

    At the summer program, though, Michael seemed less violent than morose. Outfitted in red shorts and a blue baseball cap, he played well in keep-away, but appeared bored in the group evaluation circle that came afterward. While a counselor tallied points, Michael lay on the ground, flicking a thread he had pulled out of his shirt.

    The summer program was now in its seventh week, and most of the children had yet to show signs of improvement. Some, including Michael, were actually worse; one had begun biting the counselors. At the start of the program, Waschbusch noted, Michael’s behavior was comparatively good: he would sometimes jump up from his desk or run around the classroom but would only rarely have to be forcibly removed, as often happened with the wildest children. Since then, his behavior had spiraled badly — in part, Waschbusch thought, because Michael had been trying to impress another child in the program, a girl I’ll refer to as L. (Her name has been abbreviated to her first initial to protect her privacy.)

    According to Waschbusch, calculated behavior like L.’s distinguishes so-called “hot-blooded” conduct disorders from more “coldblooded” problems like psychopathy. “Hot-blooded kids tend to act out very impulsively,” he added as we followed the children inside. “One theory is that they’ve got a hyperactive threat-detection system. They’re very fast to recognize anger and fear.” Coldblooded, callous-unemotional children, by contrast, are capable of being impulsive, but their misbehavior more often seems calculated. “Instead of someone who can’t sit still, you get a person who may be hostile when provoked but who also has this ability to be very cold. The attitude is, ‘Let’s see how I can use this situation to my advantage, no matter who gets hurt from that.’ ”

    Researchers have linked coldblooded behaviors to low levels of cortisol and below-normal function in the amygdala, the portion of the brain that processes fear and other aversive social emotions, like shame. The desire to avoid those unpleasant feelings, Waschbusch notes, is part of what motivates young children to behave. “Normally, when a 2-year-old pushes his baby sister, and his sister cries, and his parents scold him, those reactions make the kid feel uncomfortable,” Waschbusch continued. “And that discomfort keeps him from doing it again. The difference with the callous-unemotional kids is that they don’t feel uncomfortable. So they don’t develop the same aversion to punishment or to the experience of hurting someone.”

    Waschbusch cited one study that compared the criminal records of 23-year-olds with their sensitivity to unpleasant stimuli at age 3. In that study, the 3-year-olds were played a simple tone, then exposed to a brief blast of unpleasant white noise. Though all the children developed the ability to anticipate the burst of noise, most of the toddlers who went on to become criminals as adults didn’t show the same signs of aversion — tensing or sweating — when the advance tone was played.

    To test the idea that C.U. children may be less responsive to reward and punishment than the average child, Waschbusch established a system in which kids were awarded points for behaving well and docked points for acting out, and then he modified it to include weeks where either the reward (points earned) or the punishment (points lost) were augmented. At the end of each week, children chose prizes, based on the number of points they’d earned. Every day, Waschbusch and his counselors tracked each child’s behavior — the number and severity of outbursts, any instances of good behavior — and entered the results into a blinded data set. With just a dozen children in the program, Waschbusch admitted, the observations were more like a series of case studies than like a trial with robust statistics. Still, he hoped that the data would provide a starting point for researchers trying to treat C.U. children.

    The morning after my visit, Waschbusch invited me to watch a videotape made during one of the program’s classroom sessions. The viewing took place in a room jammed with extra chairs and a small TV on rollers. William Pelham, the chairman of Florida International’s psychology department, stopped by to say hello. “Dan’s going to prevent the next Ted Bundy,” he told me cheerfully.

    Waschbusch stared intently at the screen. As the camera panned across the classroom, Michael shoved at his desk uncomfortably, then tipped back in his chair, fidgeting. “Michael, you’re not on task,” a counselor reprimanded gently. “O.K.!” Michael said angrily. Next to him, a tiny boy with glasses dropped his pencil on the floor repeatedly, earning a reprimand, then pretended to chew on his own arm.

    After lunch, the situation deteriorated. During class, L. hurled an eraser at another girl but instead hit a slight, dark-haired boy, who promptly scooted his chair backward at high speed, crashing into the desk of the students behind him. Watching L. chase the boy around the room, Wasch­busch dismissed the idea that she was simply out of control. “This is planned,” he said grimly. “She knows exactly what she’s doing.” When a counselor ordered L. to sit down, she returned to her chair and drew quietly for two minutes, earning 10 reward points. “That’s the difference, right there,” Waschbusch said, pointing at the screen. “If this were impulsivity, she’d already be up and running around again.”

    One of the challenges of working with severely disturbed children, Waschbusch noted, is figuring out the roots of their behavioral problems. This is particularly true for callous-unemotional kids, he said, because their behavior — a mix of impulsivity, aggression, manipulativeness and defiance — often overlaps with other disorders. “A kid like Michael is different from minute to minute,” Waschbusch noted. “So do we say the impulsive stuff is A.D.H.D. and the rest is C.U.? Or do we say that he’s fluctuating up and down, and that’s bipolar disorder? If a kid isn’t paying attention, does that reflect oppositional behavior: you’re not paying attention because you don’t want to? Or are you depressed, and you’re not paying attention because you can’t get up the energy to do it?”

    In addition to refining the psychological measures that test for C.U. in children, Waschbusch also hopes to gain a better sense of why some callous-unemotional children grow up to be deeply troubled adults while others do not. Magnetic resonance imaging on the brains of adult psychopaths has shown what appear to be significant anatomical differences: a smaller subgenual cortex and a 5 to 10 percent reduction in brain density in portions of the paralimbic system, regions of the brain associated with empathy and social values, and active in moral decision making. According to James Blair, a cognitive neuroscientist at the National Institute of Mental Health, two of these areas, the orbitofrontal cortex and the caudate, are critical for reinforcing positive outcomes and discouraging negative ones. In callous-unemotional children, Blair says, that connection may be defective, with negative feedback not registering the way it would in a normal brain.

    These differences, researchers say, are most likely genetic in origin. One study calculated the heritability of callous-unemotional traits at 80 percent. Donald Lynam, a psychologist at Purdue University who has spent two decades studying “fledgling psychopaths,” says that these differences may eventually solidify to produce the unusual mixture of intelligence and coldness that characterizes adult psychopaths. “The question’s not ‘Why do some people do bad things?’ ” Lynam told me by phone. “It’s ‘Why don’t more people do bad things?’ And the answer is because most of us have things that inhibit us. Like, we worry about hurting others, because we feel empathy. Or we worry about other people not liking us. Or we worry about getting caught. When you start to take away those inhibitors, I think that’s when you end up with psychopathy.”

    While the chance of inheriting a predisposition to psychopathy is high, Lynam noted, it is no higher than the heritability for anxiety and depression, which also have large genetic risk factors, but which have still proved responsive to treatment. Waschbusch agreed. “In my view, these kids need intensive intervention to get them back to normal — to the place where other strategies can even have an effect. But to take the attitude that psychopathy is untreatable because it’s genetic” — he shook his head — “that’s not accurate. There’s a stigma that psychopaths are the hardest of the hardened criminals. My fear is that if we call these kids ‘prepsychopathic,’ people are going to draw that inference: that this is a quality that can’t be changed, that it’s immutable. I don’t believe that. Physiology isn’t destiny.”

    In the 1970s, the psychiatry researcher Lee Robins conducted a series of studies on children with behavioral problems, following them into adulthood. Those studies revealed two things. The first was that nearly every psychopathic adult was deeply antisocial as a child. The second was that almost 50 percent of children who scored high on measures of antisocial qualities did not go on to become psychopathic adults. Early test scores, in other words, were necessary but not sufficient in predicting who ultimately became a violent criminal.

    That gap is what gives researchers hope. If a genetic predisposition to psychopathy is a risk factor, the logic goes, that risk might be mitigated by environmental influences — the same way that diet can be used to lower an inherited risk for heart disease. Like many psychologists, Frick and Lynam also suspect that the famously “intractable” nature of psychopathy may actually be overblown, a product of uninformed treatment strategies. Researchers are now careful to distinguish between callous-unemotional traits observed in children and full-blown adult psychopathy, which, like most psychological disorders, becomes harder to treat the longer it persists.

    Still, Frick acknowledges that it’s not yet clear how best to intervene. “Before you can develop effective treatments, you need several decades of basic research just to figure out what these kids are like, and what they respond to,” he said. “That’s what we’re doing now — but it will take a while to get real traction.”

    And there are other challenges. Since psychopathy is highly heritable, Lynam says, a child who is cold or callous is more likely to have a parent who is the same way. And because parents don’t necessarily bond to children who behave cruelly, those children tend to get punished more and nurtured less, creating what he calls “a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

    “It reaches a point where the parents just stop trying,” Lynam said. “A lot of the training is about trying to get these kids’ parents to re-engage, because they feel like they’ve tried it all and nothing works.”

    Anne admitted to me that this had been her experience. “As horrible as this is to say, as a mom, the truth is that you put up a wall. It’s like being in the army, facing a barrage of fire every day. You have to steel yourself against the outbursts and the hate.”

    When I asked Anne if she worried about Michael’s behavior taking a psychological toll on his brothers — Allan, in particular, seemed to worship Michael — she seemed surprised by the idea. Then she told me that the previous week, Allan had “run away” to a friend’s house, located more than a mile from home. “Of course we were worried sick,” she added hastily. “But Allan is confident that way.”

    Anne is a strict disciplinarian, she said, particularly with Michael, who she worries would otherwise simply run wild. She mentioned an episode of “Criminal Minds” that terrified her, in which a couple’s younger son was murdered by his older brother. “In the show, the older brother didn’t show any remorse. He just said, ‘He deserved it, because he broke my plane.’ When I saw that, I said, ‘Oh my God, I so don’t need that episode to be my life story down the line.’ ” She laughed awkwardly, then shook her head. “I’ve always said that Michael will grow up to be either a Nobel Prize winner or a serial killer.”

    Told that other parents might be shocked to hear her say such a thing, she sighed, then was silent for several seconds. “To them I’d say that they shouldn’t judge until they’ve walked in my shoes,” she said finally. “Because, you know, it takes a toll. There’s not a lot of joy and happiness in raising Michael.”

    While it may be possible to modify a callous-unemotional child’s behavior, what’s less clear is whether it’s possible to make up for underlying neurological deficits — like a lack of empathy. In one oft-cited study, an inmate therapy group that halved the recidivism rate in violent prisoners famously increased the rate of “successful” crimes in psychopaths, by improving their ability to mimic regret and self-reflection. A related article recently speculated that treating antisocial children with Ritalin could be dangerous, because the drug suppresses their impulsive behavior and might enable them to plan crueller and more surreptitious reprisals.

    In another study, the researcher Mark Dadds found that as C.U. children matured, they developed the ability to simulate interest in people’s feelings. “We called the paper ‘Learning to Talk the Talk,’ ” Dadds said. “They have no emotional empathy, but they have cognitive empathy; they can say what other people feel, they just don’t care or feel it.” When Anne worried that Michael might have begun manipulating his therapists — faking certain feelings to score points — she might have been more right than she knew.

    Frick is willing to go further. If treatment is begun early enough, he says, it may be possible to rewire the brain so that even C.U. children might develop greater empathy, through therapies that teach everything from identifying emotions (C.U. children tend to have difficulty recognizing fear in others) to basics of the Golden Rule. No one has yet tested such treatments in C.U. children, but Frick notes that one early study indicated that warm, affectionate parenting seems to reduce callousness in C.U. kids over time — even in children who initially resist such closeness.

    As of January, Waschbusch’s analysis of the reward-versus-punishment strategies showed little consistency — possibly because the study group was so small. This summer, he plans to expand the program from one group to four: each group will be split between C.U. children and children with conduct disorder. Waschbusch hopes that by comparing the two, it will be possible to evaluate the differences in their responses to treatment.

    As for Michael, it was hard to tell whether the program had helped. During the last week at camp, he bit a counselor on the arm, something he’d never done before. At home, Miguel said, Michael had become slyer in his disobedience. “He doesn’t scream as much,” he told me. “He just does what he wants and then lies about it.”

    Miguel said he still had hope that Michael’s development would follow a similar path to his own. “Sometimes when Michael does things, I know exactly why,” he said with a shrug. “Because I’ve done the same kind of thing.” In the meantime, he offers Michael what advice he can. “I try to tell him: You’re here with a lot of other people, and they all have their own ideas of what they want to be doing. Whether you like it or not, you just have to get along.”

    Excerpt from “Can You Call a 9-Year-Old a Psychopath?” By Jennifer Kahn, May 11,2012, New York Times

    [My thanks to James, who sent me the original article.]

    Psychopath Test Politicians

    .

     
    • James 12:36 on January 28, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      “I have a greater bond with you than I do with Mommy!” Robot boy.

      Liked by 1 person

      • nowve666 13:46 on January 30, 2016 Permalink | Reply

        There is an episode in Law & Order: SVU, Season 14, called “Born Psychopath,” which closely parallels the story of Michael and his family except that the Law & Order story ends up with the kid in custody long-term after he experiments on his sister to see if she will melt from the inside when exposed to fire. Like in this real story, the C.U. kid’s father was like him as a child but grew out of it.

        Like

    • hippygurl61 09:42 on January 30, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Reblogged this on hippygurl61's Blog.

      Like

    • Anonymous 06:16 on May 18, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      “While the chance of inheriting a predisposition to psychopathy is high, Lynam noted, it is no higher than the heritability for anxiety and depression, which also have large genetic risk factors, but which have still proved responsive to treatment.”

      You’re kidding, right? You’re actually comparing anxiety and depression to psychopathy? Isn’t that like comparing heroin and cocaine to marijuana?

      Like

c
Compose new post
j
Next post/Next comment
k
Previous post/Previous comment
r
Reply
e
Edit
o
Show/Hide comments
t
Go to top
l
Go to login
h
Show/Hide help
shift + esc
Cancel
%d bloggers like this: