Have you ever looked at your sociopath and wondered why they would lie about such simple, unimportant things? They'll lie about what they had for lunch even though it doesn't matter. The truth would serve quite sufficiently, but they'll lie anyway. You will notice that they don't even seem to be able to tell the difference between fact and fiction anymore as they have lied to themselves so extensively.
They'll even lie to you about you. You know perfectly well that it's a lie, but they are so persistent, looking you in the eye and "swearing to God" that it's the truth, that pretty soon you are questioning your own sanity.
Our son, as he worsened, lied both to us and about us. He told the neighbors, his friends, extended family members and all kinds of other people all kinds of horror stories about us to gain their sympathy and their support. We would meet people for the first time and they would look at us like we were monsters. We only learned later about how we had kicked him out, given him alcohol in the home, abused him, etc. They were all lies, but convincing sounding ones coming from his mouth.
It's a wonder that they didn't come and take all of our children away. That was one reason why we corresponded so freely with his counselors and probation officers. I didn't want to be a pest, but I wanted to make sure our side was heard, not out of revenge, but protection for the family.
If you have a child with conduct disorder, I recommend that you stay in close contact via email with teachers, attendance clerks, counselors, etc. And make sure your e-mail is highly secure!
We are still healing wounds our son created with extended family members. They heard so many lies about us over the years from our son through his grandparents who were total suckers for him, that they were convinced of our insanity. Now that the grandparents are gone and our son is in prison, they are very, very slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe we weren't the crazy ones.
To this day, I dread any conversation with our boy and get no pleasure from reading his letters because everything he says, we automatically doubt. It is a horrible way to live, but we have to protect ourselves by not believing him. We can still be victimized by his lies to others about us, but not by his lies to us.
We can minimize even that victimization though when we recognize that it is not personal. Lying and smear campaigns are just what sociopaths do. They are severely handicapped by their missing emotions and the mental illness. He's not doing it because he hates us personally, so much as for the roles we fulfilled in his life as his parents, especially as parents with the guts to call him on his crap and try to warn his prey. For that we can be proud!
Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Sad, Sad End of a Sociopath
Search Amazon.com for narcissism
I just returned from quite a bizarre trip.
An old family "friend" died recently and since she had burned bridges with every last friend and family member except my sister, she got to take care of all the final arrangements. I have maintained for years that this woman is a died-in-the-wool sociopath, but I don't think my sister quite believed me. I believe she does now.
This woman went out in true sociopathic style, having not taken responsibility for her own final arrangements even though she had been wanting to die for at least a year. My poor sister had to jump through all kinds of hoops to get the legal okay to get the arrangements taken care of- at her own expense!
A return trip had her and I trying to clear her condo upon the landlord's request. We held an estate sale to try and recoup the costs of the cremation and the travel. We had one and half days to sort through and "stage" the condo for the sale including four dressers, two walk-in closets and an armoire of clothing and we worked very hard and got very little sleep and began to get a little "punch drunk" because of it. It was getting quite comical towards the end as every time we thought we were done displaying something we'd find another drawer of that same item.
Calls would go out across that apartment, "Make that 66 purses!"
"Now we have 50 saleable shoes!"
"Hold on, here is another drawer of clothes!"
"A-n-d... we have another pair of glasses!"
Sadly, she had once been a very wealthy woman and we sold many items far below their value because we had to clear it out in a hurry. Those who came got great deals and the sale netted only a few hundred dollars. A whole life for a few hundred dollars.
She had two albums of family members, two of her dog and over 30 of her, her, her. I don't think she ever had an outfit she didn't get a picture in. There was shot after shot of close ups of her (quadruple prints) and an entire album of pictures of her possessions and homes.
It was absolutely tragic to sort those dozens of albums, pull out a few pictures and throw the rest away. With each hefty volume I launched up and into the dumpster, I reflected on what an empty life she had led. Sure she traveled the world extensively, but she did it alone or with someone else's husband. Now there is nobody in the world left to treasure her memories. What if she had gone on humanitarian trips instead? Imagine the improved lives she could have left behind.
As a pastor hauled off her clothes to an inner city ministry, my sister found herself saying, "Well friend, at least your clothes are going to a good cause." She said she heard the friend's voice reply in her head though, "To those filthy drug dealers and prostitutes?"
Her paperwork was left in complete disarray too, requiring many hours of work to sort through. It also left a trail of proof as to her sociopathic ways. Paper after paper revealed falsehood after falsehood and laid evidence of the web of lies that was her existence.
Most entertaining was a letter she'd written to her most recent ex-husband who she had been married to for only a very short time. A millionaire, or at least that's what we'd always been told, he had been trying to get out of paying her so much alimony and she was berating him. She had written a long list of problems in her life (many of them falsehoods) and after each one, she wrote "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"
Amusingly enough, she accused him several times over of being a sociopath, even listing off all the traits and characteristics of one. We couldn't help but wonder if she recognized herself in them or if her lies just ran too deep to do so.
She lived a selfish, self centered life, never taking responsibility for her own actions and died a sad, sad person who will be remembered only for the comedy of errors she left behind.
Oh, and when packing her urn for the trip, which is, quite simply, a crock from her own kitchen counter, my sister couldn't quite resist labeling the wrapping, "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"
Why break with tradition now?
I just returned from quite a bizarre trip. An old family "friend" died recently and since she had burned bridges with every last friend and family member except my sister, she got to take care of all the final arrangements. I have maintained for years that this woman is a died-in-the-wool sociopath, but I don't think my sister quite believed me. I believe she does now.
This woman went out in true sociopathic style, having not taken responsibility for her own final arrangements even though she had been wanting to die for at least a year. My poor sister had to jump through all kinds of hoops to get the legal okay to get the arrangements taken care of- at her own expense!
A return trip had her and I trying to clear her condo upon the landlord's request. We held an estate sale to try and recoup the costs of the cremation and the travel. We had one and half days to sort through and "stage" the condo for the sale including four dressers, two walk-in closets and an armoire of clothing and we worked very hard and got very little sleep and began to get a little "punch drunk" because of it. It was getting quite comical towards the end as every time we thought we were done displaying something we'd find another drawer of that same item.
Calls would go out across that apartment, "Make that 66 purses!"
"Now we have 50 saleable shoes!"
"Hold on, here is another drawer of clothes!"
"A-n-d... we have another pair of glasses!"
Sadly, she had once been a very wealthy woman and we sold many items far below their value because we had to clear it out in a hurry. Those who came got great deals and the sale netted only a few hundred dollars. A whole life for a few hundred dollars.
She had two albums of family members, two of her dog and over 30 of her, her, her. I don't think she ever had an outfit she didn't get a picture in. There was shot after shot of close ups of her (quadruple prints) and an entire album of pictures of her possessions and homes.
It was absolutely tragic to sort those dozens of albums, pull out a few pictures and throw the rest away. With each hefty volume I launched up and into the dumpster, I reflected on what an empty life she had led. Sure she traveled the world extensively, but she did it alone or with someone else's husband. Now there is nobody in the world left to treasure her memories. What if she had gone on humanitarian trips instead? Imagine the improved lives she could have left behind.
As a pastor hauled off her clothes to an inner city ministry, my sister found herself saying, "Well friend, at least your clothes are going to a good cause." She said she heard the friend's voice reply in her head though, "To those filthy drug dealers and prostitutes?"
Her paperwork was left in complete disarray too, requiring many hours of work to sort through. It also left a trail of proof as to her sociopathic ways. Paper after paper revealed falsehood after falsehood and laid evidence of the web of lies that was her existence.
Most entertaining was a letter she'd written to her most recent ex-husband who she had been married to for only a very short time. A millionaire, or at least that's what we'd always been told, he had been trying to get out of paying her so much alimony and she was berating him. She had written a long list of problems in her life (many of them falsehoods) and after each one, she wrote "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"
Amusingly enough, she accused him several times over of being a sociopath, even listing off all the traits and characteristics of one. We couldn't help but wonder if she recognized herself in them or if her lies just ran too deep to do so.
She lived a selfish, self centered life, never taking responsibility for her own actions and died a sad, sad person who will be remembered only for the comedy of errors she left behind.
Oh, and when packing her urn for the trip, which is, quite simply, a crock from her own kitchen counter, my sister couldn't quite resist labeling the wrapping, "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"
Why break with tradition now?
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