I Have Been Diagnosed as a Sociopath: A guest blog by “Damon”

I Have Been Diagnosed as a Sociopath: A guest blog by “Damon”

I have been suffering from depression since I was 16 years old. It has been on and off since then and when I felt I was spiraling downward, I always felt there was something more to it. As of November of 2014, my therapist, who I had been seeing for about 4 months, told me who I really am. I was diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder among other personality disorders. In layman’s terms, I am a complex sociopath.

I didn’t know how to react to this information when it was given to me. Sociopaths are people you hear about on the local news or America’s most wanted. But I never felt that it was something that could be described about me. Immediately, I felt like I was a pariah, an outcast, someone to be avoided. I suddenly felt as if I understood what it was like to be hiding something about myself that defines me. Similar to someone who has not come out of the closet yet.

Looking back, I can see that I had many of the traits that would be characteristic of someone with this diagnosis. I shoplifted as a teenager and convinced all of my friends to join me as well. I didn’t treat my pets in the best ways. I used to trespass on private property including breaking and entering. I hated authority and often disregarded rules. It was difficult for me to hold employment (and sometimes still is) because I genuinely did not care.

Here’s what being a sociopath means to me today:

I feel no shame, guilt, or empathy toward others. I realized that the only moments I felt sorry was not for what I’d done, but rather I was sorry I got caught doing. During a group therapy meeting, I was told by a member that her son’s wife had had a miscarriage. Everyone in the room was crying or aghast but me. I couldn’t relate or care.

I feel nothing. I often feel nothing. Most of my emotions are a ruse, a lie to seem like a generally happy friendly person. The few feelings I do feel frequently are rage when something does not go my way and joy in the form of laughter at a good joke.

I am exceptionally intelligent in ways that often astonish my friends and family. All of my immediate family and friends have advanced degrees whereas I do not but I can often best them in games of trivia. My father will often ask me about songs and events that happened before I was born when he wants to learn about them.

I can be charming and interesting at any point in time that I choose. It is easy for me to start up a conversation with anyone at anytime, but again this is hollow. This process of putting on a face is something I can only do for so long. I feel like I am out of breath after a while. Women often tell me that I’m sweet or a great guy, but what I’m showing them is a mirage. In fact, I am the exact kind of person their friends and family would like to avoid.

I don’t feel love where others would say I should. I see my parents more as landlords than I do as a loving support system. My brothers would say we have grown close over the years, though I feel no such connection. I don’t know if I can love a person fully and I hide who I really am from potential mates. I can cut ties with any person in my life at any time I choose.

It is difficult for me to understand other people. I am often irreverent toward attitudes and traditions that others hold near and dear. I don’t understand the point of funerals, weddings, and most family events.

I am a fan of Boston area sports teams as well as LeBron James because many dislike them although I don’t know why, and I can relate to that.

I never could find the root cause of why I am what I am. Maybe because my brother molested me in front of my parents, who did nothing. Maybe because of a major concussion I’ve experienced. Maybe because of a horrific traffic accident I’ve experienced. My therapist says family history of diabetes is often found. Perhaps that is it, I don’t know. But what I do know is that for the rest of my life, I’m going to be fundamentally different than other people in this way. I am in the process using the positive aspects of this diagnosis to my advantage. For example, I don’t have fear taking risks. I can approach any woman I want to be around. My ambition is one that can hardly be matched.

All in all, it has been confusing to try to live with this part of myself. Though I have told my immediate family and some friends, we have not talked about it. I have felt like the black sheep of the family and will continue to feel that way. But as I have already received help when I felt I was in my darkest hour, I feel I can continue on knowing the roots of my sporadic melancholy.

 

“Damon”