H.G. Beverly's Blog, page 2
January 29, 2016
Richard Parker Is Not Your Friend
January 28, 2016
Richard Parker Is Not Your Friend: Chapter 4
Here and on Lovefraud.com, I’ve published chapters of a new book that shares my healing journey after leaving a sociopath/psychopath. I talk about things like co-parenting , failed support systems, and how I ultimately recovered peace and happiness despite all obstacles.
Here’s Chapter 4:
Research expert Kent Kiehl has contributed enormously to the field of psychopathy. He says that every adult psychopath he has ever worked with was different as a child, and not in a good way. When he looks through their prison files, he finds all kinds of stories about how much trouble they caused, how they never connected with friends, how they didn’t join teams, and how they were ultimately the black sheep of their families.
Sounds like what you would expect, right? A psychopath is not and never was your friend.
Here’s my issue. Kiehl works with prisoners.
Prisoners have been caught.
And so when you believe him—which is likely, since he’s an expert—and assume that all psychopaths have been caught causing trouble all their lives, then you are going to be wide open to the psychopaths who were darling children. Whose family photo album would show a smiling young charmer standing in front of a trophy case. Whose darker activities were never detected.
Most everyone in our society believes Kent Kiehl.
And while I agree that a psychopath is not your friend, I also have to assert that a psychopath might look like one. I believe that there are unincarcerated psychopaths in our society who have clean records. I believe that many psychopaths are adored by their parents, and that many have been very good at charming and manipulating their parents’ adoration all their lives. I believe that psychopaths can participate on sports teams and that some have the power to imitate a “friend” so well that other people latch on to them and befriend them, unknowingly.
How do we do this? We see them acting like a friend, so we project our own humanity on them.
It is exceedingly difficult or even impossible for empathetic people who haven’t lived with a psychopath for years to understand the mind of someone who appears to be normal but lacks empathy. We constantly evaluate their brains by what we know of our own. For example, we confide in our friends. So if someone confides in us, we feel like we’re that person’s friend. If someone laughs with us or cheers us on, we assume it’s because they enjoy our company and appreciate our success. If someone looks truly genuine, we’re wired to assume they must be.
A psychopath who wants to pose as a friend will have a deep knowledge of all aspects of winning friends and acting like one. For example, if someone shares something personal and private with me, I feel touched and flattered that I’m considered trustworthy. I’m then even more likely to look out for that person. A psychopath who wants to have people on his side will confide anything he thinks they will feel touched by, true or not. It’s part of developing an ally—a tool he can use while running for city council or perhaps when he wants to attack someone’s reputation without being the source of the rumor. Do you see why a psychopath would want to have “friends?” Do you believe that this skill could start at an early age?
I do.
Wyatt and I had a lot of parties. Family parties. Friend parties. People would come over with their kids and let them run around while we grilled food or played cards or sat around a fire.
With friends watching, he would become the most attentive dad and loving husband in the world. Maybe he hadn’t looked at our children in a week, hadn’t changed a diaper, hadn’t fed a meal, hadn’t thrown a ball. Not a glance. And maybe he hadn’t come home for the past two nights until 4 am despite it being just a regular old Wednesday and Thursday of a regular old work week. Where had he been? I never got to know. I’d wake up when he pulled in the drive, and he’d try to convince me that he’d been in the house since 10 pm. A decade later, he would still swear to God and on the Holy Bible that he never stayed out at night like that. But I know the truth.
Anyway, let’s say our friends show up on Friday after that kind of week. A psychopath wouldn’t care, right? Wouldn’t want to connect? I disagree with that wholeheartedly. Maybe a psychopath doesn’t care about people, but when there’s a chance to impress people or get them to do things or believe things, a psychopath can have a world of fun with a group of friends.
That was Wyatt. When friends were around, he’d let all of the kids climb all over him like monkeys in a tree. He’s throw them up in the air and hoot and holler, and they’d shriek and laugh and climb up for some more. He always, always made sure people were watching. If they weren’t, then game over. But women would sit and watch him and make open comparisons between his excellent fatherly instincts and their own dud husbands, who might be kicking back at the patio table, enjoying a beer and a conversation. When he heard their praise, he’d escalate it, maybe throwing himself on the ground and rolling around, still tossing kids and bellowing with laughter.
Women loved Wyatt. They still do.
And he would work them, using me as a prop. He’d adore me when they were around, and they would lavish him with praise and affection for it. They wanted to be adored by their own husbands so bad, and they had no idea that he often wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was speaking when we were alone together. But at parties, he’d call me over in front of them and ask me to pose for the camera, and I’d stand and smile while he made loud proclamations about how beautiful I was and how he was a master photographer. A master.
The women would swoon.
Nearly all of the photos I have of myself during that phase of my life were taken when people were watching. If I said “no thanks,” they wondered what in the world was wrong with me. Why I didn’t cherish the attention. What was my problem?
Wyatt cultivated many groups of “friends” who, in turn, would do anything for him. When I left him, he came after me in court, creating days and days and years and years of trial. And his whole group of women would take off work and find sitters so they could sit on the bench outside our courtroom in a show of support for that poor man. I had to walk by them each time we had a break in the trial, my heels clicking and echoing through the giant marble space as they stared me down. Sometimes they would say things out loud.
“I hope that judge sees right through her.”
Think of a tiger, like the tiger named Richard Parker in Life of Pi. If you sit near him, maybe on the other side of cage bars or glass, you can get lost gazing into his eyes.
There’s a sense of humanity in those watery depths. You can see its light. He understands you. He’s so beautiful. He might blink slowly and turn his head to the side a bit as if he’s reading your thoughts. He might stretch out a paw toward your hand.
And then if he could, he also might pounce on you, tear open your throat, and drag you away to eat you. Because Richard Parker is not your friend. The humanity you sensed in him was a projection of your own. Assuming he thinks and feels exactly like you is an insult to the diversity of our planet. He’s not evil, he merely exists as he was made to, like any of us. He commands respect. He challenges us to establish clear boundaries because while he might show affection, he might also torment and torture us for fun.
He makes us ask bigger questions of ourselves and the world. Questions we don’t want to ask, because we prefer a world in which everyone has a soft spot somewhere inside, even tigers. But to pretend that Richard Parker is our friend is to disrespect his nature while being irresponsible to ourselves and to all of humanity.
He might look like your friend.
He might even act like your friend.
But he’s not.
The same goes for psychopaths.
Read Chapter 5: Who is a Potential Victim?
Or follow these links to previous chapters that are posted on Lovefraud.com:
Chapter One: Everyone’s Ex is a Psychopath
Chapter Two: Labels and Lists Might Not Help
Chapter Three: There Are Degrees of Conscience and Empathy
Or read my book, The Other Side of Charm: Your Memoir, available at major booksellers.
January 22, 2016
There are Degrees of Conscience and Empathy
January 21, 2016
There are Degrees of Conscience and Empathy: Chapter 3
Here and on Lovefraud.com, I’ve published chapters of a new book that shares my healing journey after leaving a sociopath/psychopath. I talk about things like co-parenting , failed support systems, and how I ultimately recovered peace and happiness despite all obstacles.
Here’s Chapter 3:
I’ve been asked these questions a thousand times:
Can my ex be a psychopath and still take care of his mom?
Can someone be a psychopath and still be nice to her pets?
Is it possible that a psychopath could attach to even just one person, like me?
Can psychopaths love their children?
This is when I remind people that all disorders can be seen on a spectrum—and that psychopaths are still human, just like the rest of us, so the idea that they’re all going to do the exact same things is incredibly misleading. Some psychopaths are smarter than others. Some are more sadistic. Some care about how the world sees them, and some don’t. Some thrill on motivating teams and crowds, and some would rather blow them up. Some find solid ways to contribute to the world, perhaps because it feels like a personal win. Others never will. The bottom line is that even though they lack a conscience, psychopaths are people, too. They may hurt you if they feel like it, but some of them won’t find a reason to.
And some of them will.
When I look back to our wedding, I can see myself looking for it. Trying hard. My bouquet tipped just right as I walked down the aisle. My short hair pulled up and made to look longer. The songs I requested so my whole big family would stand up and dance. The sun was setting, the tent was glowing, and I was looking for my man.
For marriage.
It was something we did. In my family, people found a partner when they were very young and then grew up and grew old together with the familiarity of siblings and the lasting heat of lovers. I didn’t know another marital dream to consider.
But when I remember us now, the way he stood in front of me that day, holding my hands, I remember realizing for the very first time that something wasn’t enough. That I was looking for more of a connection than was there. But true to my positive nature, I quickly calmed myself with my thinking—my expectations were too high. He was just nervous in front of the crowd. We were real people, not some romance novel. I stood there at the altar taking full responsibility for being let down by his vacant expression, an exercise I would repeat over and over in the coming years. I’m a woman—he’s a man. That made me more relationship-oriented. That made me crave intimacy. That made me want his admiration. That made me make excuses.
Ultimately, I was looking for more while pretending that he was making me feel loved. On our wedding day.
Honestly, the people who made me feel loved that day were my parents, who danced down the aisle and fed hundreds of guests from the caterer they situated in the old mill my dad restored next to the lake I grew up on. My siblings, who gazed at me with the kind of love and appreciation that felt like I’d just come home from the moon. My aunts, who commuted hours each way for weeks just to make sure my wedding scene was perfectly right.
And my whole extended family, who danced in a circle under the last light of the day.
A traditional bride, I worked for months in advance to perfect every detail. My fiancé, Wyatt, was in charge of the rehearsal dinner and honeymoon. His parents took the rehearsal dinner and hosted a beautiful meal. So when our wedding night came, I was sure that this love of my life—this soul mate who adored me—would surely do something to show his love. Would surely get it right.
This is where the psychopathic patterns first manifested in a way I could notice. On our wedding day, you ask? Yes. On our wedding day.
Because a wedding, for some, is apparently like game over. I’ve got her now. His personality changed in an afternoon, and our future was foretold.
Each time we were supposed to do something, like cut the cake or dance, I had to look for him. He was no where to be found.
Each time I gazed into his eyes, looking for a connection or at least that radiant heat, he would smile and laugh and make jokes with the crowd.
When we were supposed to leave, I packed the car alone.
And after we left, he took me through the McDonald’s drive through.
That was his meal for us. And maybe you like that, but here are two points about me. One, I do not eat McDonald’s. And two, I’d asked him to pack a romantic picnic or plan a nice meal for us for months before our ceremony. I was a planner. The way the night unfolded was important to me, and I communicated that clearly.
This is where the lack of empathy—the inability to care for another person’s wants, needs, and experiences—really started coming to life.
Day one of our marriage. Day one.
A psychopath can put on a show the entire time you are dating or as long as it takes to reach a goal. There’s a phase of valuation (idealization) and devaluation that is commonly used to talk about how people with personality disorders treat the rest of us. At first, we’re their idealized dream. They caress us and soulmate us and take us to the moon. Lots of attention. Then there’s the devaluation phase, where they begin to detest us and lose interest in pleasing us and even start hating us even though they keep us hanging on a string.
My devaluation phase started as soon as Wyatt sensed the game was over. We were married, so what else was there to do now?
He could’ve kept the idealization phase up for years if he’d wanted. If a psychopath wants to win, he wants to win. Some wins might be quick, and others may take some time. With Wyatt, the game he was playing to have me was over as soon as we said our vows. To keep me around (because his public side wanted nothing more than to display a perfect family life) he had to come up with a new way to win with me. For him, that win evolved into a game of controlling and abusing me—the devaluation phase. For Wyatt, the ultimate long-term goal was to tear me so far away from myself that I would exist quietly and miserably as no one at all.
Sound familiar? Maybe, maybe not. Do all psychopaths behave this way? No. And that’s my point. Some people who are just selfish jerks might act this way (and then come around). Some people who are psychopaths would never be able to fake love long enough to even make it to a wedding day. So let’s explore this idea of a personality disorders as they exist on a spectrum.
Everyone in the world lives somewhere on the spectrum between having a strong conscience and no conscience at all. Psychopaths are believed to live at the zero conscience side of things—with a complete absence of morals. People with a strong moral compass live at the opposite end of that spectrum, and every decision they make is guided by their values. Most of us exist in the middle somewhere, and it’s really normal to flex up and down the spectrum depending on whether you’re stressed out or desperate or cared for or safe.
Empathy can be viewed the same way. Imagine a second spectrum now. Highly empathetic people (who may sense others’ experiences even more than their own) exist on one end of the spectrum, while those who lack empathy entirely, such as psychopaths, exist on the other. And again, our level of empathy will be different based on our stress levels, our upbringing, our personality, and so on.
In an “all is good” world, most people would stay near the strong conscience and high empathy sides of those spectrums. Psychopaths (as currently defined) live on the opposite end—meaning conscienceless with a lack of empathy. And while there is still some public debate about whether a psychopath can have a little empathy, such as for a beloved pet, the experts tend to agree with leading researcher Kent Kiehl that in diagnosing a psychopath, the trait “Lack of Empathy” has to show up over a long period of time in multiple areas of a person’s life. You cannot score highly in “Lack of Empathy” based on one incident, even if it’s really horrid. Further, studies into the physiological aspects of psychopathy are indicating that the part of the brain related to empathy is inactive in psychopaths. Can they feel empathy if they don’t have the physiological capacity to feel empathy?
We always had two dogs, Casey and Ripley. They were Labrador Retrievers. Casey was Wyatt’s from before we started dating, and Ripley came to us later as a rescue.
Wyatt seemed to love Casey—he expressed a lot of love for all animals, really. But Casey was special because he picked her up at the dog pound when she was one; her face was covered with a hundred tiny cuts when he got her, so he told everyone he saved her life. She wasn’t housebroken or trained at the time. I wondered whether she was an outdoor hunting dog and got cut up in the brush while chasing pheasants or rabbits, but he liked to tell people that she was terribly abused and fearful when he found her, and that through his care, she regained her beautiful personality.
She was a pleaser. When people showed up for parties, Wyatt would share his heroic rescue story and show how all her scars were gone and then run her through her tricks for the crowd. People applauded and laughed out loud when he pointed his finger at her like a gun and she fell over, playing dead. But his favorite command was “sit up,” because she would throw her paws into the air so high over her head to impress him that her back would arch and she would lose her balance and come crashing down on her side. His eyes would get the same glow in them that he had when he made my heart jump in the doorframe on our first date. Then he would make her do it again, and again. He loved her enthusiasm. He loved the way a dog loves you no matter what. He loved her desire to please. Sometimes, after we were married, I wondered if he would love me again if I could act like a dog.
It was an idea born of anger, and it brewed inside me for years.
But still, Wyatt doesn’t sound so bad yet, does he. Why am I calling him a psychopath? He clearly is attached to Casey, right? He can form attachments? Maybe your ex was far more violent and easily picked out as a psychopath—maybe he called you “bitch” instead of your name and took you to the woods at knifepoint to teach you lessons when you were “bad.” That is horrifying. But both types of men may or may not be psychopathic. Violent or criminal behavior is committed by people who have the capacity for empathy every day. That doesn’t mean they’ll change, it doesn’t mean they feel remorse for that particular act, it just means that they can and have felt remorse in other situations at other times.
A psychopath never will.
Let’s get back to talking about Wyatt’s apparent dog love in relation to psychopathy. Wyatt’s public image was/is sacred to him, so he plays by certain rules in public to avoid tarnishing himself. He also doesn’t want to go to jail, because that would look bad. So his brand of physical violence was/is more careful, like choking me instead of hitting me. No marks. That being said, there have been moments throughout his life when that control breaks down.
Casey and Ripley always stayed home, even without fences. We lived on a farm, but they would rather lay on our sidewalk in the sunshine than sneak across the fields to the neighbor’s. Except we did try to adopt another rescue lab named Buddy at one point, and Buddy liked to chase birds. When buzzards or crows would fly over in groups, he would take off barking and chasing after them.
Wyatt found this to be intolerable. He did not want to round up wandering dogs. When our girls chased along after Buddy one afternoon, Wyatt had had enough.
He stormed out across the fields to get them. I wasn’t worried that he would do anything to hurt the dogs, so I stayed inside and finished washing up the dishes. I could see him marching over the rise toward them, and then he disappeared from my view.
But then there they were. Or at least I could see the top of Wyatt’s head over the rise. It was moving up and down, in and out of my vision. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing. Then I saw an arm fly up over his head and I realized he was hitting something.
I dropped the dish in the sink and ran out the door. My throat felt tight with nausea. His arms were still flying, and he was screaming at the girls to lie still. He was kicking something. It was Buddy. He had him by the collar. When he saw me running toward them, he straightened up and started dragging Buddy toward the house.
“You will stay HOME! You will stay HOME!” he shouted over and over. All three dogs cowered along with him toward me, tails between their legs and bodies hunched.
Buddy was ok, but I found a new home for him right away—a retired couple who wanted a big dog to ride around with them in their pick up truck. I was petrified by that scene, and I watched Wyatt for a few months with the hollow eyes of someone who can’t reconcile two realities. Wyatt, of course, explained away the beating by saying that dogs can’t wander or they’ll get hit by a car. So he was just protecting the dogs. Teaching them a lesson they wouldn’t forget so they could live full lives. Didn’t I know how much he loved the dogs? He did it out of concern. He did it out of worry. He spent the next few days getting down on his knees with Casey and Ripley, hugging them and wrestling with them and loving the way dogs love you no matter what.
When I left Wyatt years later, Casey stayed with him because she was his before we were married; I wasn’t allowed to take her. He didn’t hurt her or do mean things to her because she never did anything wrong, so I worked hard to convince myself she was safe. But I missed her so badly—the way she would lay behind my feet in the kitchen when I was cooking, the way she’d flop into the kiddie pool in the summer with the kids. She was truly an angelic spirit. And I loved her.
One especially cold winter when Casey was 11, our children were with Wyatt overnight during a blizzard. My daughter called me sobbing the next day. Daddy wouldn’t let Casey in last night because she was sick and he didn’t want her to make a mess. He wouldn’t let Abby call me. He wouldn’t let her take a blanket out to her. And that night, just outside the glass French door, Casey died in the blizzard on his deck.
Even today, Wyatt is a self-proclaimed animal lover who has a dog and two cats. Does he have empathy for them just because he enjoys owning them? No. Can a psychopath get a thrill out of owning a pet? Absolutely. And the relationship doesn’t have to be sadistic, as so many people would imagine. Some psychopaths are not necessarily sadistic. If you’re looking for that as an identifying trait, you’re missing the bigger picture.
Because conscience and empathy exist on a spectrum for most of us. So psychopaths may look like non-psychopaths if they, for example, get married or enjoy owning a pet.
The thing to remember is that they are the only ones who will do all of the above with no conscience and no empathy. That’s where psychopaths live when it comes to the spectrum.
They’re the ones who will lock out their beloved dog—their self-proclaimed “family member”—to die alone in a blizzard because they don’t want a mess.
They’re the ones who would do the same to you. Be your hero, run you through a series of tricks for applause, and then dump you out back to die on the deck.
Don’t waste your time wondering if someone like that can change.
Read Chapter Four: Richard Parker is Not Your Friend. Or read The Other Side of Charm: Your Memoir.
Labels and Lists Might Not Help
January 20, 2016
Available Friday
Coming Friday
Get The Other Side of Charm e-book FREE on Friday, 1-22-16. One day only.
And please share this offer with friends and/or professionals. Many readers have commented that every lawyer, judge, and psychologist should read this book. Do you know anyone who could benefit others even more given a deeper understanding of psychopathy? If so, please share this opportunity with them. Given restrictions on self-publishing, I have limited opportunities to share The Other Side of Charm broadly at no cost.
Also, on Friday, I’ll be posting the next chapter of My Ex is a Psychopath. Chapter 3 is called, “There are Degrees of Conscience and Empathy.” You will find it here, on hgbeverly.com, or on Lovefraud.com.
Here is a description of tomorrow’s post:
There Are Degrees of Conscience and Empathy
All disorders can be seen on a spectrum. Here, I explain conscience as a spectrum ranging from a strong moral compass at one end to an absence of morals on the other. Empathy can be viewed the same way, with highly empathetic senses at one end and a lack of empathy at the other. While most neurotypical individuals experience some flexibility along these spectrums depending on background, stress levels, and so on, psychopaths have rigidified somewhere closer to the ends of consciencelessness and a lack of empathy. Sadistic or punitive tendencies are separate traits, and that is why some neurotypical people can have sadistic tendencies (and feel terribly guilty about it) while some—but not all—psychopathic people can have sadistic tendencies without an ounce of guilt. Basically, we’re all unique.
January 19, 2016
On Psychopaths and Playing it Safe
January 15, 2016
Labels and Lists Might Not Help: Chapter 2
Here and on Lovefraud.com, I’ve published chapters of a new book that shares my healing journey after leaving a sociopath/psychopath. I talk about things like co-parenting , failed support systems, and how I ultimately recovered peace and happiness despite all obstacles.
Here’s Chapter 2:
Confused about the differences between a psychopath and a sociopath? For my purposes, I use the term psychopath. Because while I can’t solve the national challenge of aligning our labels and definitions of psychopathy, sociopathy, and ASPD here today, I still need to talk about what we’re dealing with in these conscienceless people. Here are the Symptoms of Psychopathy, according to Robert Hare’s Psychopathy Checklist:
glib and superficial
egocentric and grandiose
lack of remorse or guilt
lack of empathy
deceitful and manipulative
shallow emotions
impulsive
poor behavior controls
need for excitement
lack of responsibility
early behavior problems
adult antisocial behavior
If a person displays these symptoms, he or she may be a psychopath. But what does “need for excitement” look like in a 24 year old urban caucasian male vs. a 32 year old rural hispanic female? Can they possibly have varying thresholds for excitement? Everyone is different. So we can’t expect all psychopaths to look the same. There are rich psychopaths and poor psychopaths. Psychopaths who like to surf and psychopaths who aspire to run a drug empire. Psychopathic preachers, teachers, doctors, nurses, and guides. And the bottom line is that we usually just can’t tell who they are.
And they’re not crazy.
I know when you hear “psycho,” you’re probably thinking crazy. Psychopaths are thought of as serial killers or Wall Street executives who rape women, murder competitors, and steal millions. Crazy. But Hollywood has misled us by playing up these stereotypes. A psychopath can also live in a small cottage on a quiet street where he enjoys rocking on the front porch with a dog at his feet. A psychopath can be the woman who taught in your Sunday School for the past fifteen years—the one who rushed for Band-aids and ice any time a child scraped a knee. A psychopath can be the nicest, most married-for-life person you know.
So if you’re looking for a strange feeling to stir in your gut when a psychopath settles on you with a cold gaze, you might not find it. If you’re thinking that a background check will keep your organization safe, I’d say you’re wrong.
The scary truth is that by the time you’ve pulled out your list of warning signs, it’s often much too late.
Why? Because even though psychopaths all have some things in common, many if not most of them are really good at hiding the behaviors that would give them away. What you see instead is a well-oiled facade; the man of your dreams.
My ex is a Midwestern charmer who showed up at my door for our first date in a soft flannel shirt tucked into his jeans. When I looked out at him, he ducked his head to the side bashfully and looked up with playful eyes; as he admired me for a moment, I could feel their radiating heat.
I felt a rush.
He stepped almost instantly into the doorframe with me to come inside, pressing but not really pressing himself against me as he looked down with eyes that I thought were now glowing with flirtatiousness. Only in hindsight can I see that he was enjoying his own power more than any imagined connection with me. He owned my responses in those moments and loved making me jump—the giddiness of control—because everything I did or experienced right then was in reaction to his next move. And he loved making moves, like staring down at me for a second there in the doorframe just to watch me become overwhelmed.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
He touched my elbow as he went on by, and his touch felt alive.
Does that little encounter sound like I was meeting a psychopath? To me it does, but only because I can see now what I couldn’t see then—the thrill of control, the lack of boundaries, the bold moves. At the time, it felt like a dream. Like a romance. Coming close, finding me irresistible, giving me a rush up my spine and back down to my toes, looking playful, and stepping right past me into my home. There’s that irresistible sensation of being boldly taken by someone we want to be taken by. This was the beginning of something like that.
After our first date, we never missed a day together again—unless work took him out of town, and then we’d talk on the phone all night. When he was home, we planted flowers and took long walks and held hands as we chased the sunset. We waded through creeks arm in arm and watched the tadpoles swirl around our feet. We took long evening naps after cocktails and made dinner at midnight before sleeping again—always side by side. Matching bodies, matching hearts, matching breath.
I felt so safe by him at night.
These little stories illustrate why it’s hard or even impossible to tell whether someone’s a psychopath in few or even many dates—and that’s what a lot of people want to know. They want to know how to tell. But what kind of warning list would you keep in your pocket?
A person might be a psychopath if he/she makes you feel incredibly good about yourself.
A person might be a psychopath if he/she is very, very attracted to you. Like very.
A person might be a psychopath if he/she understands you like no one before.
A person might be a psychopath if he/she seems like your soulmate.
A person might be a psychopath if he/she makes you feel protected.
Check out that list. Are we identifying a psychopath or the romance of a lifetime?
Maybe I’m scaring you. That’s not the point. The point is that you’re probably going to run into a psychopath in your life, and odds are you won’t know it. So don’t blame yourself and shame yourself for the next 50 years if you get taken. Instead, invest your energy in recovering from the dark experiences that inevitably come if you stick around for what’s next.
So considering that psychopaths all look a little different, are hardly ever labeled, and are likely to fool you, what is the one big warning sign you can look for if you’re dating a psychopath?
Martha Stout says that the number one red flag is the pity play. I agree. If someone you’re dating inspires your pity repeatedly and then asks you in those empathetic moments to do something, you are probably being played. You might be asked to forgive him for not showing up last night because he’s so incredibly sorry and it hurts so much to make you upset, so please don’t be upset, please because his last girlfriend was so psych-controlling and he just can’t exist like that anymore and so please don’t be upset because it hurts him. It’s just been so hard for him to recover from that last one.
I’m being sarcastic here, so you might not feel the kind of empathy you’d feel if a psychopath was presenting the story.
There’s always a hard childhood, a difficult ex, a failed relationship, an unfair boss, a lost job, or a betrayal that can be mourned, discussed, and empathized with. We all have difficult experiences. Empathy is really, really good; but when we’re empathetic, we’re also very open and vulnerable. So the warning sign is when there’s consistently a need coming out of these “pity” moments, especially if you’re being exploited (giving and never receiving), and especially if you’re uncomfortable with the request. And don’t just watch for it in your own relationship—watch to see if he/she does it with everyone else.
Otherwise, your psychopathic partner might be entirely charming. Perfect. Except that while they ask for your empathy, you can never expect theirs. But honestly, I can’t say “lack of empathy” is a reliable warning sign, because so many psychopaths can fake it so well.
It’s a tricky situation. Yes, there are consistent patterns of behavior to expect from psychopaths. Common symptoms. But considering the natural differences between humans combined with the current professional confusion and debate over diagnostic labels, we live in a nation in which the legal, mental health, and protective institutions are not capable of identifying psychopaths very well—let alone you or any other person in love. If you begin to suspect you’re dating a conscienceless person, you need clarity despite chaos. You need understanding, recovery, and options to protect yourself.
I was in that exact situation, but I didn’t realize my ex was a psychopath until after I left. All those torturous years and all that education—and I still couldn’t see it. Not one of the many professionals involved in my ongoing divorce could see. But I had my “a-ha” moment while reading a book, and it changed my life direction. It empowered me, because I could finally understand and begin to alter the dynamic between us. That’s what I hope to share with you here—so that you can begin to care for and protect yourself, even if the world’s still catching up.
Read Chapter Three: There are Degrees of Conscience and Empathy.
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