Tagged: sociopathy Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

  • James 19:15 on November 20, 2018 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Crna Gora, , Kotor, Montenegro, , , , , sociopathy, ,   

    Postcard to myself 

    20181120_200645

    There are venomous snakes in this box. You think it’s chocolates and that I’m sorry, but I’m not and it’s snakes.

    I have been going through some cards, letters and postcards from my life up until now. My old room is getting ripped out and replaced with something new, to cater to my parents’ obsession with decorating and modernising their house, so all these forgotten bits and pieces have been coming to light for the first time in 10, 15, in some cases 20, years. What can I say? I’m a magpie.

    And there’s this stash of old post, which has given me a new perspective on my upbringing. Because I was relatively late to become aware of psychopathy and specifically that it pertained to who I am (this I discovered at the age of 18; I’m now 25), I have been under the impression that other people in my life were similarly clueless about my nature. Not so.

    There’s the card in the picture, sent to me one Christmas by a school friend, who wrote that it “reminded me of you… happy Xmas, you weirdo.” There’s another card, sent by family friends, with reference to an atlas they bought me: “You always said you wanted to take over the world. Let this inspire you.” Rereading that today reminded me that, yes, I was a megalomaniacal motormouth at one stage of my childhood, and had evidently revealed some or all of my plans to this family – rookie Bond villain mistake. And that is why I will never get the chance to be tried for war crimes in The Hague.

    Then there was this bizarre Wallace and Gromit birthday card, sent to my grandad from all of my family, which read inside, in my mother’s spiky handwriting: “Happy birthday, Dad. This card was chosen by Jamie on the understanding that you’ll post it back to him.” It was dated 1997; I was three. Little control freak.

    Sure, so there’s no smoking gun. No “Ohhh my God, my baby’s a psycho, what do I dooo?” letter. But there’s knowledge – and acceptance – of my personality. I’m lucky to have parents who have never tried to deny who I am, and who have supported me from the start. It just goes to show that sometimes close friends and family know you better than you do yourself.


    Image result for kotor postcard

    In the same pile, I also came across a postcard from Montenegro, sent in 2008 by me… to me. It was postmarked and everything, sent par avion across Europe from the tiny Balkan state to my home in England. This is it, folks – peak narcissism:

    Dear future self,

    Ha! Ha! I’m on holiday, you’re not!

    Classy.

    It goes on –

    Hope the ol’ ear has cleared up by the time I get this.

    Oh, that’s right. I got an ear infection from the poorly-chlorinated swimming pool. I had to get some strange ear potion from the apothecary in Kotor. Yes, apothecary;  Montenegro’s a hell of a place.

    I am sitting on my apartment’s balcony. Jealous?

    Yes. Fuck you.

    Anyway, fuck you.

    Be you later,

    James

    Great, well thanks for that, 15-year old James.

    The moral of the story? Never meet your heroes, because they’re sure to disappoint.

     
    • nowve666 20:53 on November 20, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      This is the weirdest post of yours I’ve seen. So you wrote a postcard to your “future self” and taunted your future self that you were on vacation and he (you) were not?

      Like

    • 1jaded1 21:42 on November 20, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      I laughed and I’m not ashamed. The first card with the snakes is just too funny.

      Liked by 1 person

  • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 06:32 on October 15, 2018 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Authoritarians, , callous unemotional, , , , degenerate, divide and conquer, , , , , , , , misogynist, , , psychiatry, , psychopath test politicians, self-serving, , sociopathy, Trump, word salad   

    How To Explain Trump To Kids – A Lesson in Personality Disorders 

    Trump

    “Remember the other day at the playground when that bully said, ‘I don’t care about you. I only care about me!’ Imagine if that kid ran the country.”

    via How To Explain Trump To Kids – Dad and Buried

    by Mike Julianelle

     

     

    .

    .

     

     

     
    • Amaterasu Solar 11:42 on October 15, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      Good article but for the fact that He seems to yet think the LARP that is politics is “reality.” It is scripted and played out on the literal world stage, the script written, the characters cast, the directing from the wings, by the psychopaths in control.

      Like

      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 09:15 on October 17, 2018 Permalink | Reply

        I don’t see what you are talking about – that he shows a belief in politics is “reality”? To me, he’s just making a point about Trump in particular.

        Like

        • James 20:51 on October 18, 2018 Permalink | Reply

          She’s talking about the fevered imaginings of her mind, brought about by a delusional psychosis.

          Like

  • James 19:02 on October 2, 2018 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: au bout de la terre, bereavement, cancer, , , , grief, , , RIP, sociopathy   

    Grief 

    The way other people treat the deaths of celebrities is grief at its best, according to this psychopath.

    Related image

    My Aunt Teresa died on Friday. It was the end of a short and sudden battle with an aggressive cancer. Not a bad way to go all things considered, as you hear of people fighting a painful, drawn-out cancer over a number of years, with multiple remissions and recurrences before it finally getting the better of them.

    However, the speed and abruptness of this (just over eight weeks from diagnosis to death) has hit members of my family hard. Her husband, my uncle, is heartbroken. My grandfather, who celebrated his 90th birthday in May, is especially devastated, having already lost another of his children to alcoholism about seven years ago. My mother and my other aunt, who are the eldest and have always been closer to each other than to their other siblings, are in shock.

    Well, what can I say? Ever since we got the news about the cancer, I have watched my family go to pieces in disbelief and shock, which has been quite alienating because I don’t feel the same way. I can’t say I was expecting the illness, and then the death, but equally it’s not as though these things are unheard of. Why shouldn’t it happen to someone we know?

    Over the years, I have spent a lot of time at Teresa’s house in the countryside near the coast. It is – or was – an ideal place to get away, as the house is big, and both my aunt and uncle liked their privacy so we only saw each other for an hour or two in the evening on some days. However, being well-educated they were interesting people to talk to. There is great hiking countryside around, so I could disappear all day doing that, or one of them would drive me into Eastbourne or Brighton so I could go hunting girls and/or guys with a wadge of their cash. She liked having me around as she had no children of her own and I could make her laugh.

    At about the five week mark of her illness, I visited Teresa in hospital to have what I expected – and turned out – to be our last conversation. I informed her that since she was dying, she might as well know I was a psychopath and didn’t love her, but that I had genuinely enjoyed my visits to her house and that I hoped she would consider leaving some money towards my future, the plans for which I divulged. She was all weak and drugged up so she didn’t say a great deal, but did tell me she loved me no matter what and had already written me into her will. I guess I’ll find out whether that’s true within a few weeks.

    A couple of days later, I went on a two-week holiday to Lanzarote and enjoyed myself immensely exploring the volcanoes, watching some rare birds, and eating seafood.

    I’d been home a week when Teresa’s husband phoned to tell us the news. That day I spent some time thinking about my aunt and what she had been to me, remembering the interesting conversations we had had and thinking it was a pity there wouldn’t be any more visits to her house now that she was dead. In other words, I mourned.

    The next day was Saturday, and I got on with my life. The sun was out and I had a book to read, and places to be that night. The phone calls from tearful relatives did somewhat test my patience, but overall it was a satisfactory weekend.

    The funeral is next Tuesday, but I need to be free for job interviews so am not going, and to be honest the job interviews are just an excuse because I’d rather attend my own funeral than bore myself at that emotional shit show. Should probably send flowers to make people think I mean well.

    At this point, I am seriously sick of the histrionic drama of my mother, grandfather, alive!aunt and all the rest of them, so am glad they will all be elsewhere for a couple of days. All this random crying and sullen silences is very dreary when you’re the only one feeling upbeat, and it’s all utterly pointless, because Teresa is gone and not coming back. I don’t believe in the afterlife, but maybe it really does exist and she’s been saved! More likely, she no longer exists and the fact that she’s dead matters not one jot to her because there is no “her”. Nothing.

    Now I know our brains are hardwired differently so they physically can’t react like me, but I honestly think it would be simpler for them if they could have just spent a couple of hours on Friday remembering/discussing the good times they had with Teresa, celebrating the life she had, and then paying someone to dispose of the corpse in a way that would be appropriate and that would give us all a good laugh – maybe donate it to the Wolf Conservation Trust (she loved those animals) or launch it with a trébuchet into the sea from the cliffs near her house. Alas.

    This blog post will, I hope, be the last time I give more than a second’s thought to my dead aunt, but I’m writing it specifically because French singing legend Charles Aznavour has also just died; they ran a 30 minute feature on the radio celebrating his life. It was brilliant – they summed up the sort of man he was, brought out Paul Gambaccini to recount the first time he met Aznavour, and played some of his biggest hits. It was short and to the point, giving those of us who knew of Aznavour a chance to feel sad he was gone and informing those who didn’t why they should care. Tomorrow, the news cycle will roll on, and that’s how things should be for all deaths, no matter who it is.

    In fact, since Monsieur Aznavour actually left behind some music that can still be enjoyed, perhaps he’ll be in my thoughts more often.

    Aunt Teresa, this is for you:

    Emmenez-Moi means “Take me away”. Off they go.

     
    • nowve666 10:33 on October 3, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      It’s great that you are blogging again. This post is awesome! Ah! The voice of sanity! The way most people deal with death of someone close to them is a shame. I remember one Thanksgiving when I had cooked dinner and had Vicki’s sons and granddaughters over and we were having a lovely time. Then the phone rang with the news that the second wife of Vicki’s father had just died. Boom! The whole party was blown. Everyone had to go around with really sad looks on their faces. There’s a movie called “Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell” in which this family’s dog had been run over. It was the little girl’s birthday and the place was decorated for a party which the little girl cancelled. Her brother picked up some nuts from the table and she said, “Charlie! How can you eat at a time like this?” He apologized and said he wasn’t thinking. LOL!

      But, say, if you hate the histrionics of grief, you would love this movie, “Fatso.” It starts with a funeral and the hysterics would gag a hyena.

      ” I informed her that since she was dying, she might as well know I was a psychopath and didn’t love her, but that I had genuinely enjoyed my visits to her house and that I hoped she would consider leaving some money towards my future, the plans for which I divulged.”

      NO! YOU DIDN’T! I was in the dining room when I read that and I just started laughing. You really told her that? What chutzpah! And to ask for money too?

      I’m not at all sure the way the media deals with the death of celebrities is any better. They can get pretty stupid too. And the way people react to the news! I remember I was at work when the news came of Princess Diana’s death. These people who didn’t even know her went on and on.

      Liked by 1 person

    • nowve666 10:10 on October 4, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      People are always talking about how our brains make us “unable” to feel this or that or process information the way they do. That’s why I loved your saying, “Now I know our brains are hardwired differently so they physically can’t react like me…” LOL! Two-way street, after all. If we “can’t” react like them, they can’t react like us. I wonder how many readers picked up on that.

      Liked by 1 person

      • James 11:35 on October 4, 2018 Permalink | Reply

        All of them, now you’ve pointed it out.

        Like

    • Critter 07:53 on December 13, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      Too bad you guys aren’t that into funerals, I’m sure you would approve of the rich traditions they have in other parts of the world like Tibet:

      “…All the eyewitness accounts remarked on the fact that the rogyapas did not perform their task with gravity or ceremony, but rather talked and laughed as during any other type of physical labor. According to Buddhist teaching, this makes it easier for the soul of the deceased to move on from the uncertain plane between life and death onto the next life…” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sky_burial#Disassembling_the_body

      or maybe Persia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tower_of_Silence

      In Bhutan they sure seem to have a sober approach to the topic:

      “…Rich people in the West, they have not touched dead bodies, fresh wounds, rotten things. This is a problem. This is the human condition. We have to be ready for the moment we cease to exist…”
      http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20150408-bhutans-dark-secret-to-happiness

      Even when not taking the cultural aspect into account, then non-psychopathic people respond very differently to losing friends or relatives. Ever considered how useful funerals can be for reminding us “neuro-typicals” that everything in life is temporary, nature doesn’t favor the passive and that it’s a good time to start adapt a more productive attitude towards our brief existence?

      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: