By The Front Porch Talker My father was a sociopath. He was many other things too. To my mother—and the world—he was an alcoholic and a sex addict. In those days, back in the sixties and seventies, they didn't use the word, "sociopath." Things were more black-and-white: either you were a psychopath, like, say, Richard Speck, the man who killed those nurses back in the day; or, you were an average American. To the world, my father was an average American who, by all appearances, was normal. Well, except for the booze and sex”¦ My mother, on the other hand, while also an alcoholic, just viewed herself as a bundle-of-nerves. And, a victim of my father who, as I found out forty years …
Sociopaths and My Life as a World Ambassador: ‘My Mother, Myself’Read More
