As I was trying to come up with an idea for this week’s blog post, my husband, Terry, made a suggestion: “Why don’t you write about Psycho Squirrel?”
Last fall, we started tossing peanuts in the shells to squirrels in our backyard. We were captivated by the show they put on as they acrobatically chased each other along the fence and through the tree branches. Plus, we liked being nice to our furry neighbors.
Most of the squirrels picked up the peanuts and scurried away, burying them to eat in the winter. A couple of squirrels, however, were smart. They learned that humans meant food, and every time they saw us, bounded over to the ground below our back deck. They’d sit on their hind legs, twitch their tails, and look up at us expectantly. Of course, they were rewarded with peanuts.
Aw, aren’t they cute?
Well, they started getting brave, and crept up the steps of the deck. We opened the back door, which led into the kitchen, and tossed out a peanut. The squirrels scurried away with the peanuts, buried them, and came back for more. So then we squatted down low, cracked open the full-length glass storm door, and held the peanuts at their nose height. They were skittish at first, but soon began taking the peanuts right from our fingers.
They’d sit on the deck, hold the peanut to their mouths and roll it, as if looking for a place to bite the shell. Sometimes they ate the peanuts, and sometimes they ran away, buried them, and came back for more. If we weren’t right at the door, we could hear them tapping on the glass with their tiny claws.
Aren’t they cute?
We ended up with three “pet squirrels—”one day they all kept coming to the door like a tag team. Eventually, if they saw us, they’d leap through the trees to the ground below the deck and then run up the steps. When they saw us walking up the driveway, they followed. We started keeping a small ceramic bowl filled with peanuts on the counter next to the back door, so they’d be handy when our squirrel buddies showed up. We imagined that they really appreciated us when 18 inches of snow blanketed the ground and all their peanuts from the fall were hidden.
A few weeks ago, spring finally arrived, and we exchanged the glass in the storm door for a screen. We hadn’t seen the squirrels in awhile, but one showed up. She looked well fed, but still remembered how to beg for a handout.
I opened the screen door, held a peanut low for her, and she took it. She came back several times; I fed her about five peanuts. Then I had to go back to work. I closed the screen door, but the main back door was open to let the warm breeze into the house.
A couple of hours later I walked back into the kitchen and stopped short. The screen by the door handle was shredded—someone had broken into the house! Then I noticed the ceramic bowl was empty, there were broken peanut shells all over the floor, and a small yellow puddle on the counter.
The squirrel had chewed through the screen, eaten all the peanuts, and left. I couldn’t believe it. I shut the main back door—wood with glass panes at the top—so she couldn’t come back in. But she had learned well, and a little while later I caught her trying to climb through the hole in the screen again.
That was it. Now it was No Contact with the squirrel.
Terry took the screen out so it could be repaired. The squirrel didn’t know this, so when she next saw me in the kitchen, she leaped at the door, expecting to cling to the screen. Instead, she slammed into the regular door with its glass panes. With nothing to hold on to, she slid to the deck.
We stayed on the No Contact program, even though the squirrel kept following us around the yard and begging. No more handouts, no more bowl of peanuts on the counter by the door. In fact, since we couldn’t really tell the squirrels apart, none got fed. One overly aggressive squirrel had ruined it for everyone.
After a couple of weeks, hoping the pushy squirrel had forgotten that she had been sponging off of us, we replaced the screen, which had cost $25 to fix. It was fine for awhile, but the other day, I walked into the kitchen to find holes in the screen next to the door handle. She didn’t forget. But at least there were no peanuts on the counter, so the squirrel didn’t come in.
Now the screen needs to be repaired again. “That squirrel owes me $50 for the two screens,” Terry complained.
We don’t think the squirrel is going to pay. In fact, it’s probably going to cost us even more, because now Terry has decided we should invest in pet-proof screens.
Sigh. And it all started because the squirrels were so cute and we wanted to be friendly.
Sistersister, I read some of the writings of Casper Schmidt and I disagree with his opinions. Since you obviously believe his opinions, I doubt that you and I discussing this would be of any benefit to either of us and would distract this thread and blog from the purpose of it which is to discuss healing from psychopaths. So I suggest that you and I let this subject drop. Peace.
The stats are in the thousand-to-one category, which usually indicates no sexual transmission. For diseases not so surrounded by general hysteria, the CDC keeps its head on straight and gives you the actual numbers. On this one, it just spreads homophobia and fear. After all, it reasons (publicly), what possible bad things could happen if people become more afraid of their sexuality and stop being so damn wild?
Well, I’m here to tell you that sexual sham and fear is the m.o. of spaths, professional and amateur. It’s right down there at the bottom of it all.
Spreading a fear unfounded by the actual statistics exploits and demeans us. As an ethical being, I object.
Worse, sexual transmission fears distract people with compromised immune systems from sorting out what really might have caused their troubles and how they might actually heal. Was it drug abuse? Bad relationships? Poor self-esteem, always a slippery slope to sloppy nutrition, compulsive eating, and other bad habits?
Instead, the dynamic at work here is mass confessions that people slept with a smelly person — and gosh, most people have, haven’t they? — or done something in bed or elsewhere that they feel kind of shameful about. When you confess your shame to someone, that person has power over you. That person may even be a professional like a doctor or “AIDS counselor.” That person can make you rush into decisions like taking a drug without disclosing all the side effects, or selling your life insurance policy, or putting your kids up for adoption. This is the dark underbelly of that “AIDS awareness” we talk about, and if you aren’t the person taking the calls, it doesn’t concern you. People hide their shame and grief from the rest of society. They might just appear in public as “AIDS-affected” or some such label that avoids questions.
Another aspect never covered by the media is the spath-like quality of relationships this breeds. Somebody knows your “secret,” or your are keeping it from somebody else. Somebody is a victim, and the other is always getting cast as the perp. There is a childlike abandonment of responsibility in some people when they realize not even their own bodies are under their own control or pleasure.
Belief in sexual transmission of HIV is downright sado-masochistic. It invites one group of people to victimize another group, and those victims to pull passive-aggressive acts on still others.
Sistersister,
The Centers for Disease Control specifically states that HIV is spread primarily though unprotected sex.
http://www.cdc.gov/hiv/topics/basic/index.htm#spread
Claiming otherwise is not helpful.
Sistersister;
First, I agree with Ox Drover in that we should keep the discussion focused on sociopathic behavior, and not debate the cause of HIV and AIDS as it detracts from this forum’s focus.
In my story HIV is important in that presuming I am correct about my x-spath, and I am 99.999% sure, it underscores the complete and total lack of empathy sociopaths exhibit.
Here we have an HIV+ individual dumping me, by email, while I was bed-ridden with Shingles, with a very real concern that I was HIV+.
breckgirl: I was wondering because their is an avoidant personality disorder, seperate from other disorders. So I wasn’t sure if every disorder fell under avoidant attachment. I get so confused! 😛
Anyway, I have a feeling many here were secure until they met their sociopath. 🙁 Then that made many of them anxious, and maybe even a few into avoidant. I think we’ll change back into secure again someday. I never doubted that we could change type, so I’m glad the author thinks so too. ^_^
Louise: Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. I remember at my school many kids couldn’t LIVE without their music and yet some others said didn’t listen to it at all. My dad always says today’s music is crap, but when I ask him what he listens to he never answers. Although, he plays his radio loudly when he drinks or smokes, but it’s never the same station or music. I always thought he liked a little of everything, but maybe he just didn’t feel strongly toward ANYTHING! Your X spath might be the same way. I listen to music EVERY time I’m online. ^_^
Spathinator: I’m new to this site, but I’ve been reading on sociopaths for a bit longer. I’m still learning, though. Like I said, I get confused and mixed up all the time. ^_^
What emotions do you think they feel? Surely there has to be something deeper than an infant there. Jealousy and envy, pride, rage, and maybe a pervese pleasure or happiness when they see us mess up. That sounds like it may be even worse than an infant! 🙁
I keep hearing about love bombing here. What is everybody’s definition on it? I don’t know exactly what it is. I know the pity play, and the rage. Is it when somebody keeps playing up to you. Stroking your ego or mentioning how wonderful you are, or something?
What numbers does it give as the probability? Or does it not give the numbers?
I don’t wish to debate the cause of AIDS, but to agree with blue eyes that the HIV is very central to this. (But notice just how upset it makes people. Something there . . . some things we don’t look into, ever.)
Blue eyes is/was scared, and when a person is scared, what they need are actual statistical odds of something bad happening to them. Blue eyes, the odds of your picking up “HIV” from this guy are so low, you couldn’t even get an expert to testify to their significance in court.
And the spathic system of HIV research and media messages — just being asked to believe very scary things without the actual numbers being presented — creates fertile ground for other spathic behaviors around HIV+ individuals, either on them or by them. It also fans the flames of sexual fear.
I hope this helps you move on to better company in your life.
Sistersister,
do you even believe that HIV exists? That’s the first question.
If so, then HOW is it being transmitted?
I have met people who do not believe it exists. These people generally suffer from paranoia in many aspects of their lives. Not sure the connection, but it’s there.
Sistersister;
I was not afraid to pick up HIV from the x-spath as we were “moving slow” and did not rush into sex.
However, his manipulation of me caused immense mental health problems as the whole episode was almost too hard to believe.
Even two years removed, I still have a hard time believing it happened.
I appreciate your interest in this, but I’m going to honor Donna’s request and not switch the conversation over to AIDS science in general. I fully agree that that would be inappropriate and off-topic.
But I maintain that I have brought up only the psychological dynamic, which is relevant here. On that, I can further recommend the writings of Ian Young of Toronto, the gay historian who wrote “The Stonewall Experiment.” He says that AIDS has created a deeply unhealthy way of relating, and not just among gay men. In society. In science. Everywhere. And it’s right-on spathic.
I assure you, I don’t suffer from any paranoia. Judging from the e-mails I get sometimes, I probably should. Their authors really would like to kill me. Just as in dealing with spaths in my personal life, I know that the best cure for the darkness is to turn on the damn lights, to live in the light, to know that only the light is reality. Vampires have to go back into their coffins at dawn.
Believe it, blue eyes. It happened.
And I still believe there’s so much more to this culturally, you’ll find it even more unbelievable. So many stresses and lies and messed-up ways of relating in this culture, and how it relates to gay men (especially when HIV gets thrown in there), that you will someday realize that even now, you didn’t know the half of what was behind it all. What you saw was very real. Very screwed up. Perverted, as in, turned upside-down, false.