So the other night I was watching an episode of Criminal Minds, and the killer was the son of a sociopath who had tormented him all his life. The killer killed as a result of this, so to speak, and at the end of the episode, goes to the same prison as his father and stabs him several times, presumably killing him. One quote from the episode stood out to me, “The son of a sociopath. Did he ever really have a chance?”
This is interesting to me because I am fairly sure my own father was a sociopath. Well, okay, is a sociopath. It’s easier to think of him as something from the past since I no longer have any contact with him. Now, realize, I am not a licensed professional. I can’t really diagnose anyone. But based on my textbooks and other research I have done, I truly believe this is true. He perfectly fits the bill for antisocial personality disorder, which is what they call psychopaths/sociopaths these days. Even Hare’s sociopathy checklist fits him.
I think I mentioned on a different post that my biggest fear is being forgotten after death. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. It’s certainly my second-biggest fear, but my biggest fear is becoming anything like my father. I realized I sometimes go out of my way to help people just to be different from that manipulative, selfish bastard. But then, I am not really helping people for the sake of helping them, either, am I? I’m being just as selfish–helping people only because it distances me from being what I hate.
Part of me–no, more than part of me. All of me wants to make him feel pain. I half-wish my mother’s and stepfather’s worst wish would come true and he would show up at my doorstep with the intent of finishing me off (he very nearly killed me when I was younger), just so that I could finally attack him first. They say revenge is bittersweet, but I don’t believe that to be true, not really. Or maybe it is: I would most certainly end up behind bars.
I realize that attacking or killing him would leave me no better than he is. But–here’s the scary part–when I think of revenge, that doesn’t even bother me. Other times I have violent tendencies, particularly when I’m psychotic, it scares me when the feelings pass. But when I think of revenge against my father, it doesn’t. I know that the fact I could kill him and feeling nothing afterward should scare me. It doesn’t.
Am I really any better than him? I don’t know anymore. Surely I am capable of empathy, which he wasn’t. Aren’t I? I have always had difficulty maintaining relationships with people. But the fact that I keep trying to is a good sign, right?
Maybe I need a break from thoughts like these.
I feel like I hardly know myself.