so long sociopath

when something’s amiss, Miss

A Way Out of The Inkwell 

One of The Best Pieces of Advice I’ve Ever Received 

(and Have Never Written About)

I haven’t written about what might be the most profound conversation of my life. Until now. 

Why? Because enough years have elapsed that I can comfortably spend time wandering around in this memory without feeling icky, boogie-man vibes. 

Context. About a decade and a half ago I chose to be with a guy who wasn't my type, but he was unflinchingly devoted to me. I thought it was time to choose the “nice guy” with a stable j-o-b, the kind of man my family would warmly welcome at Rosh Hashanah dinner. Not my usual. 

I tended (tend?) to be attracted to a beautiful mess - adventurous, creative and rugged men. But not exactly the best bet for, say, fatherhood or stability. I’d shrug and say, I love who I love. 

This time though, I picked differently. “Doug” was established, successful in the traditional sense, in addition to being incredibly attentive, thoughtful, generous and seemed to be my biggest fan. So what if he wasn’t exactly my cup of matcha? That was probably a good thing, I told myself. Little did I know that Doug was actually a pathological liar and narcissist sociopath. 

We were together for almost a year during which I never knew his real name, profession, home address, or even the truth about his family (who I met and they lied to me, too). Everything that came out of Doug’s mouth was a complete fabrication. 

And I am not an idiot. There were multiple points when something didn’t seem right, when what he said didn’t match up with reality. But to repeat a Monty Python line, “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.” 

This all happened before the term “love bomb” existed, before we swiped right (or wrong), and catfish were innocently swimming in the bayou - not a film about being duped. I had no point of orientation for what I was experiencing. When you’re a good person it’s hard to imagine the scale of so much deception. It’s like your eyes cannot focus on the object in question. 

So, suffice it to say when Doug was revealed to be a cheating, lying, drug-addicted homeless criminal rather than the hugely successful, clean-cut corporate wunderkind he presented himself to be, there was immense physical and emotional shock. 

I am not going to go into the heroic details of how my friends and family supported me in quickly prying Doug out of my home and life. The CIA couldn't have done better. But what I am here to tell you is what a remarkable psychiatrist shared with me in the wake of these events. 

We spoke about it only once but this was one of the most important discussions I’ve ever had. Since I’d initially met this doctor (I’ll call him Bob*) socially he felt there was a professional conflict, so it was a one and done situation. 

I’d been circling the drain, near-crazed at tracking the extent of Doug’s lies, trying to contact the other people he’d been interacting with in order to warn them, working with the police as they tried to locate my deadbeat ex (who was now on the lam to avoid being arrested for embezzlement and fraud). It felt like a moral obligation to thwart Doug from doing to anyone else what he’d done to me. 

Bob told me to stop immediately. Not what I expected to hear. 

About Bob. The good doctor had built a psychiatric career treating criminal narcissists. Bear in mind, these days the terms “sociopath” and “narcissist” are casually thrown around in conversation. Unfortunately, this waters down the impact of the language. Someone who is, say, egotistical with an inability to read social cues is not the same as a full blown narcissistic sociopath. 

The latter are who Bob treated. Think Edward Norton in Primal Fear, take it down a notch and you’re in the right zip code. Interestingly, he pivoted to working with the people they prayed upon. He said that sociopaths tend to be boring, empty shells. But the people they attach themselves to are usually full of life and energy. They are often extremely dynamic people, and these parasites feed off of the bounty of their hosts. So Bob started supporting the abused versus the abusers because it was much more rewarding.

When I recounted my story, Bob said I’d actually been quite lucky, relatively speaking. He said sociopathic behavior was proliferating in the digital age, in part because people can build fake identities with ease and little consequence. Bob said we are living through a modern version of Sodom and Gomorrah. 

When I told him about the efforts I was making to help right Doug’s wrongs, to prevent him from duplicating his deceptions, Bob said, “That’s not your job. Your job is to heal.” My time would be better spent ejecting everything in my life that was associated with Doug rather than digging around in the forensics. 

Anything that I visually linked to Doug, get it out of my home. Movies or songs I associated with him? Don’t watch or listen to them. Anyone I’d met through him, cut ties immediately. I’d done what I could to help the police and now it was time to move on. Remove it all. Strip it away. The sooner I did this, the more quickly and fully I would recover. 

But didn’t I need to help, I asked? Isn’t that what a good person does? 

Calmly and clearly, Bob said that I’d been in the presence of evil. (Hello, heebie-jeebies.) And the way forward wasn’t to combat it per se. That would keep me in the neural space of deceit, and connected to Doug.  

Bob explained that the only way to counter darkness is to bring more love and light into the world. That was my prescription, to go be joyful. And before you roll your eyes, remember this was not coming from a Reiki newbie talking about vibes. Nope, he’s a straight up medical doctor who has seen humanity as its worst. 

Bob was right about healing up. The whole experience hardly left a mark. I certainly don’t perceive myself as a victim, and I rarely think about this bizarre chapter. Moreover, Bob’s advice has become an organizing principle in my life, and it continues to serve me well. Essentially…

Do what you can, where you can, how you can. Because it does matter. 

The point of goodness isn’t linear, but it’s effective. This feels particularly timely because the malaise is real, my friends. In both my professional 1:1 sessions and personal conversations with friends, I repeatedly hear that people are having a really hard time. Even those who might outwardly look shiny and happy are struggling to stay buoyant. And I get it. 

It’s easy to feel defeated by the onslaught of current events - the unrelenting pace of the no-good-news cycle, climate crises (plural), the proliferation of despots, school shootings as commonplace. I could go on, but I won’t. A person could go limp under the weight of it all. 

But there is a way out of the inkwell. We can’t let despair turn into apathy. Then the bastards win. Instead, let’s do what Bob would advise. Countering hideous circumstances on a scale that cannot be easily processed looks a lot less like retribution via firepower and a lot more like…loving kindness and joy. 

Don't you dim your light. Hell, no. Crank it up, buttercup. You don’t know who you’ll help in the process, but I’d wager that your own name is going to be on that list. 

If you found this at all helpful (or amusing), please give it a like or drop a comment below. And if you know someone that might enjoy my perspective, kindly forward it along. Your participation is everything.

*Name changed to protect his identity. Apparently sociopaths don’t have great manners.