Although some see sociopaths as too emotionally deficient to experience the despair necessary to suicide, I see suicide as offering a viable option for some sociopaths, and I’m going to explain why.
Let me start with a bit of crude, brutal logic: for many sociopaths, as we know, life is very much a game; hence, when game over, life over. No more game, what’s left? The answer may be, nothing.
And yet it may be less “despair” and “depression” with which the sociopath is left when his act has been shut-down than his preferring no longer to deal with an existence he knows will cease supplying the gratifications to which he’s grown accustomed, perhaps addicted and certainly privileged.
In the face, then, of this massive problem, the sociopath, with his notorious penchant for escaping inconvenient situations, may consider “checking-out” out of life—suiciding—when it, too, becomes insolubly inconvenient.
Some sociopaths, recognizing that their run of exploitation has ended, may use suicide as a final act of rebellion and contempt, as if to express, “See! You may have apprehended me, but watch! I’ll kill myself, and so I’ll escape again! Nobody gets me. Nobody makes me account! I am accountable to myself only, and now I choose to disappear, permanently. Ha!”
Of course, we’re all acquainted with the incarcerated sociopath who seeks his death, and may even generate publicity around his quest to be capitally executed. His is the case of the imprisoned sociopath asking the state, in effect, by proxy, to assist him in his suicide. What are we to make of this?
For some, the specter of the prisoner seeking execution arouses a certain sympathy; the prisoner may be seen as pursuing a form of ennobled self-justice, which may be interpreted (or rather, misinterpreted) as reflecting his belated humanity.
But what is the incarcerated, suicide-seeking sociopath really doing? Where is he really coming from? The answer is that he’s doing what he’s always done—exploiting for an edge, an advantage.
In such cases his spirited self-advocacy for death-by-state reflects some very basic sociopathic tendencies, among them his audacious grandiosity and arrogance. For even in his wretched, no-status state, here he is making noise and refusing to recognize limits—that is, he’s still attempting to exercise omnipotent control; he’s determined to determine even the way he dies!
But the incarcerated sociopath’s pursuit of assisted suicide-by-state is also, and probably principally, about his desire to escape a life intolerably devoid of gratifications.
Remember that, for many sociopaths, life without an ongoing infusion of gratification is like living in prison. For some of these sociopaths, this just is not a life worth living.
It is possible that despair, finally, is a driving factor when sociopaths attempt or commit suicide. However, it is the source of his despair that’s probably most noteworthy and distinguishing: the sociopath often feels his despair as an existence intolerably devoid of sufficient gratifications, and the promise of future gratifications. And so his despair derives, ultimately, from the frustration of his greedy, insatiable demands.
Adding to his despair is the probable sense of his shattered omnipotence—that is, the sense that he can no longer exercise the kind of control over others, and control over (and satisfaction of) his gratification-habit to which he developed a deep, arrogant sense of entitlement.
The sociopath’s belief in his omnipotence, a belief deployed in the service of producing continual gratifications, gives him his superficial, if not only, purpose in life. Deprive him of it, and all bets are off.
(This article is copyrighted © 2010 by Steve Becker, LCSW. My use of male gender pronouns was for convenience’s sake and not to suggest that females aren’t capable of the attitudes and behaviors discussed.)
Aprapos of mostly nothing- but maybe something, I was with an old friend in the woods hiking through the forests over the long weekend.
As we walked down through the woods admiring the ferns along the stream, we were swarmed by mosquitoes. Bitten everywhere until huge welts rose on our skin.
When we got home, desperate for relief, we turned to the strongest anti inflamatory we could find in the medicine cabinet. Preparation H.
And you know what- it worked on mosquito bites!
My friend and I came to the conclusion that as mature adults, there are so many mosquito bites we have to face- on a daily basis and they can and do cause great distress. But there is a way to heal from them that is best if you don’t scratch and make them worse. And there is strong medicine available.
Adults take their hemmeroids very seriously.
As we should all take the encounters with the disordered. These are abusive individuals who have potential to be very dangerous.
We have to respond to them with strong healing because of what they are hand have potential to be.
If they do decide to gain power by stabbing themselves, if they do decide to gain power by self destruction, it is a mosquito bite that we can treat with Preparation H because we take them seriously without owning the disorder.
Rather we here, who have done the homework and taken an aggressive approach to healing understand what it means to take away the itch to be concerned about their dramas but take the fact that these encounters are a huge pain than must be taken seriously.
Just like the mosquitoes, its what they do- bite, infect, damage and trouble their targets. Its what they do. And once we are wiser, we know what the responses are to them: No contact, let go, be free, live OUR lives.
It isn’t worth wishing they would, but watching and insuring that if they do, it happens at a distance from us. That, I think is all we can…..
PREPARATION H!!! ROTFLMAO How apparopriate for psychopaths, just smear them with Preparation H and they will VANISH! and no longer be a P.I.T.A. Oh choke snort! LOL
Sorry silver, I couldn’t help it, I just had this VISUAL!!!! LOL
You are right though we must take them seriously, but one of the things I found with mine was that I had so many mosquito bites “itching” all at once that I had no time or mind to GET INSIDE and shut the door so I could treat them with anything. I ended up standing and SWATTING at mosquitoes when I should have been RUNNING to get to safety. THEN worried about the itches.
It is hard to drain the swamp when you are attacked by alligators,mosquitoes AND someone sets your pants on fire!
Well said, Silvermoon.
Looking back, I think the artist boy in my class was probably fairly well adjusted. He certainly showed no other signs of being a psychopath-in-the-making.
Perhaps artists have a perception of the way things are that the rest of us only catch fleeting glimpses of. He saw that suicide was a way of life, as a tendency in our society to gain power through dark means. Maybe he approved at age 11, maybe he didn’t. The fact is, S/Ps do wield a lot of power by resonating with the negative vibes all around us. Death and suicide are but one piece of it.
I’ve posted this, before, but the ex spath used to threaten suicide, murder, and murder/suicide ALL of the time.
For me, personally, the constant threat of suicide is one of the most horrid tools in the spath toolbox. I was informed that I was the source of the angst, and that suicide (or, one of the other threats) would be entirely upon MY shoulders. (snarl, hiss, spit)
I guess the one consolation is that I’ve never heard it making the news that someone drove another person to suicide. Not unless it was actually true, as an extreme case — like that Irish teenager who was “mobbed” at an American school. They all think their names are going to be in lights, and in truth, very few of them ever end up that way. Just forgotten.
Kind of suicidal also, if you think about it:
I got involved in a stupid little discussion on Facebook the other day, responding to what amounted to an online suicide note by some dude I had offered to help with health resources — doctors, alternative practitioners, books, financial assistance — a couple of months ago. Instead of calling me, he chose to do exactly what I advised him not to do, severely endangering his health in precisely the way I had warned.
Then he wrote about it, oh so eloquently, yes, he was looking at those pills and ruminating about what it all meant, life and death, deep things, his forsaken “ideals,” his freakin’ organic vegetable smoothies, blah blah blah.
So everyone else comes running to the rescue, as I had. But I said, Don’t bother. He won’t even read the books you recommend.
Oh no! They said. How can you be so mean?
And he said, “You’re such Angels” to them all. Sitting on his victim’s throne, anointing his suicide-admirers. He would just ignore that mean lady who expected him to do something rational rather than sweet and victimlike and self-destructive.
Now WHY was I so mean? Could it be that encounters with S/Ps leave us so “insensitive”? Or rather, so coldly rational when faced with suicidal people? We say to them, Snap out of it or actually jump off that damn ledge! I haven’t got all day! And call me when you really want help, not compliance with your manipulations.
My sister taught me to be one tough cookie. I have an entire childhood of threatened suicides to remember.
Alternatively, if you want to stay in the pattern, remember this: It isn’t how ethically you act, it’s how “nice” you appear to everyone else. S/Ps play to the crowd. So you have to give that up to get your sanity back.
wow. it never occured to me that the spath would ever even entertain the idea of suicide. he’s got the world at his feet for the most part, and there is one thing in particular that would stop him from killing himself. he is the MOST superstitious person i’ve ever known. and he hates the idea of how he might have to ‘pay for’ all he has wrought in this life. he’s terrified of going to hell! lol.
i had to laugh. isn’t that home base?
Hmmm. I’m with Harold, it gives me hope. Sadly I don’t believe X can envision the world without him. He’s not reality based enough to ever realize he won’t somehow come out the golden boy. After all, he’s made it 51 years. No, but my doctor, therapist and family know that if I ever commit suicide, don’t believe it. There were plenty of times I wanted to, in the aftermess. But it comes down to one thing. If I do, he will “win”. He’d love it. After all, that was his backup plan, if anyone got suspicious.
And please, please, please people, do not see these creatures as “non-violent”. I would have sworn after more than 14 years with the man and he rarely even raised his voice to me, that he would never physically hurt me. I really think he feels physical violence is beneath him. He’s been in one fight in his life…well, he pushed back, I guess. I never got a clear story on that one, but he was proud of himself.
I have a pretty good sense of violence in people. I even knew our minister was a wife beating alcoholic, long before anyone had any suspicion. Just a feeling. I’ve been emotionally abused all my life, but I won’t take overt abuse. I never sensed that in him…that I realized. Then the one time I saw the real him, I was scared. I knew this man would do anything to get his own way. But I conned myself into believing I wasn’t in his way, after all, he loved me, right? But looking back, I see I made darn sure I never challenged him again. I walked on eggshells for 8 years, convinced by then I couldn’t get by without him.
When the final breakdown came, it was terrifying. My daughter was there when he came back the first time to pick up some things. I didn’t want her to leave the room even. But he started yelling and she ran. This man was the only father she ever knew, and she had no idea of his dark side. How could I tell her? I was so busy lying to myself and defending his lies.
His method is more subtle. He likes to drug his victims. But I had no doubt in my mind that he had snapped and our lives were in danger. I cooled the argument as fast as possible, not easy as I was pretty furious and really had a few things to say. I never said them, not on the phone, not in an email. This is BEFORE I knew he was killing me slowly. I work with animals, and he’d gone primal. My training kicked in, show no fear, lower the voice and defuse the situation as quickly as possible.
My daughter admitted later she was terrified and just took off running into the woods. She has good instincts. We were out in the country with no readily available help. She left quietly, I didn’t even know she was gone. Which was a good thing, because I was hoping she’d dial 911 if things escalated.
I firmly believe ALL SPs have a breaking point if challenged enough. I had caught him cold in an affair, drug use, too many lies to mention. His world was shaken. He is dangerous.
One of my friends had a very charming SP. He murdered her son just because the son was smart enough to see through him…and got away with it. Her daughter got in a fight with him and suddenly her brakes started failing unexpectedly too. She never believed her mother about this man, but when she went back to being sweet to him, her car problems ceased. He later bragged in a bar about fixing the brakes and even told the mother “I thought we’d get along better without him in the way”. This guy had already killed an elderly couple with his driving while intoxicated and stoned. He just ran them down. He was fined, put on probation, never spent a day in jail. My friend spent HER money paying off his fine for an incident that happened before they were together.
I’ll never know if my X will take another life. It bothers me I can’t warn anyone. I never know if he will decide to tie up loose ends and come after me or my family. I only told one person who knew him what really happened…and she doesn’t really believe me. Luckily, he moved back to his hometown, so I have a little breathing space. But never, ever, ever think you know a SP. I could tell you how this man would answer questions, finish his sentences, I thought I knew him inside and out. I was wrong. Luckily for me, not dead wrong.
Confronting a SP with the truth is like lighting a bomb. You may not know how long the fuse is, but it will eventually cause destruction. And there is no way to defuse it…ever.
I can’t believe he’d commit suicide. But it’s a nice thought. And for anyone who might be shocked by that, then you have never had a loved one in danger.
Terrified of going to hell.
That’s funny. That’s my uncle. He steals everything that isn’t bolted down, ruins his daughters’ lives as they go out seeking husbands like him, pretends nothing happened, and then says he wants his grandson christened so that the poor kid won’t go to hell.
Onto something here? An inflated “pretend” sense of right and wrong?
sister, it’s all for show. He has to keep up the pretense of being an upright guy, so he’s a “Christian”. I find it so ironic, as they are the ones making it hell on earth.
I had to grin at your telling your sister to go ahead and do it. As I was divorcing my first nutcase, dealing with the stress of having an infant with a deadbeat dad, a friend decided I should marry him. At 25, I was the first girl he had kissed. Now at 26, not even divorced yet, the last thing I wanted was a permanent relationship with another extremely needy male. We used to talk for hours on the phone, as he had to move some distance away. I felt sorry for him (such a sucker!) and tried to be sympathetic. He started threatening suicide. Every darn night, long distance calls about how if he couldn’t have me, life wasn’t worth living, he should end it all, blah blah blah. I bought into it until 3 am one morning, when the baby was crying and I had to get up and go to work in two hours. All right, I snapped, if you care so little about me that you want to lay that guilt trip on me for the rest of my life, then go ahead! And slammed down the phone. And prayed. And prayed. Until the phone rang and he sheepishly admitted that maybe he did need some professional help. Whew! I find as I grow older…and am surprisingly still here, I am less willing to give my time to people like that. I wrote a song called “Stray cats and people”. It ends with saying I’ll keep the stray cat but the people have got to go! So difficult when I was younger, so much easier now.
My grandmother killed herself when I was 6. From then on, I always thought of suicide as an escape route, a safe place. But I remember, thinking with a typical childish ego when I heard the note left said “I have nothing left to live for” I thought what about me? Aren’t I worth living for?