When nurture becomes nature

There comes a time when nurture becomes nature.

This is the time when nurture and nature become inextricable, inseparable.

I suspect nobody knows precisely when this point arrives in the development of a given individual, but the immediate ramification is this: When you are involved specifically with a sociopath, or any exploitative personality, it is imperative that you stop asking how this person became who he is?

Sure, he likely endured—and was shaped by—some form of neglect or abuse growing up, and if this wasn’t obvious in the history, it was still likely there.

But here’s the point: it doesn’t matter. Not one bit.

Instead, you must relinquish your empathy, compassion and curiosity—in short, every emotion that supports your obsession to understand the genesis and evolution of your exploiter’s pathology—and confront the reality that you are dealing with (as I propose) a case of nurture becoming nature, about which there’s not a damned thing, at this point, to be done.

The damage, in other words, was baked into his character a long time ago. There is no ameliorating it now. Not all the love in the world—nothing that you have, or think you have, or thought you had to give him—will dent the petrification of his psychopathology.

His diseased personality disease is immutable, as good as etched in his DNA. Case closed.

And so what you do is this: You run for the hills, just as you’d run from a rabid dog that perhaps once was innocent and gentle. Now the dog is rabid: it no longer matters how it became rabid. And so you run, fast, and you don’t look back, because every second you allow false hope to delay you increases your risk of grievous harm.

You may have loved that dog; maybe loved it before it became rabid, or maybe it was rabid all along and you just didn’t know it. And maybe you even still love that rabid dog, or the persisting fantasy of it as unrabid.

But the dog is rabid, and a rabid dog doesn’t love you, and it was probably rabid going way back and never really loved you as you once imagined, but again”¦it makes no difference.

There are rabid animals, and there are rabid people, and neither loves you.

And so the time for analysis, of him, is up.

To be clear: I appreciate the need to make sense of trauma. But at some point, the analysis of exploiters can assume an obsessive desperation that subverts, rather than supports, the processing of trauma.

I speak here from the position of having worked with many victims of exploitive personalities who are very much like stunned deer caught, and as if suspended indefinitely, in the headlights.

One of the vital tasks is to unstun them.

And sometimes the dogged determination to “make sense” of, to “analyze” the exploitive traumatizer can be a disguised obsession with discovering something in the history (his or yours) that you insist on imagining would have made a difference”¦would have made him different?

We can search this angle interminably. And unless we call off the search, we will.

And it’s a search we’re wise to call off because it can effectively bring us to a standstill, forever.

(My use of “he” in this article was a convenience, not meant to imply that women aren’t capable of the behaviors and attitudes discussed. This article is copyrighted (c) 2009 by Steve Becker, LCSW.)

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Well you know, since I do talk to myself….I can ask me, myself, and I, what sounds like a good name for the new group?

We can’t come up with anything??? Lol..

WE BETTER stay with this group! We can’t even come up with a name.

Dear Tami!!!

I am so glad I didn’t have to get the cyber “shot gun” out, I was afraid the skillet wasn’t going to do the job! I am glad, too that I didn’t pith you off, cause all of my “preaching” was cause I luvs ya gal!

I just want to straighten out one more thing, though, you talk about your first “alcoholic” husband, it was NOT THE ALCOHOL that made him beat you—it wasn’t the “addiction” that was the problem IT WAS HIS CHOICES—my Uncle Monoster beat his wife and kids brutally, held them at gun point for days, did his mother that way too, but he was “soooo sweet” when he was sober—the thing I have come to understand is that ALCOHOLISM is an “excuse” for being a psychopath drunk when you would like to be one sober but don’t have the balls to be one when you are sober.

Alcohol DIS inhibits the social controls we have. When I have been drunk (very rarely and decades ago) I am the cutest little thing you ever saw, I SING and DANCE and think I can entertain the world. I would love to be able to SING and able to DANCE but I sound like a cat with her tail under a rocking chair when I sing, and I dance like a one legged man!

Alcohol however dis-inhibits me so I THINK I CAN DANCE. The alcoholic or the drunk is WHAT THEY WOULD LIKE TO BE SOBER—sober i would LIKE TO SING AND DANCE but I know I can’t so I don’t, but alcohol lets me dis-inhibit my inhibitions and my good sense to know I can’t do either.

Same with MEAN BEHAVIOR—if you want “courage” to be an abusive ASS then alcohol will give it to you.

Saying he was a nice guy when he was sober is like saying “he is a nice guy when he is not robbing banks or killing people”—no one, even Ted Bundy was killing people 24/7 or raping people, sometimes they “act nice” but they ARE BAD.

I don’t[ blame you for “hating” Biddy’s husband, and I KNOW you aren’t mad at her for taking him, remember when I told you she is yourT FRIEND and you should send her a THANK YOU card for “taking” him away from you. SHE DID YOU A FAVOR SWEETIE and you and I both know that!

You are a sweet sweet woman, but you need to take a lesson from Granny Oxy and quit giving EVERYONE IN THE WORLD the freaking BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT!!!!

Now you quit it right this minute, as I used to say to my kids, DON’T MAKE ME STOP THIS CAR! LOL ((((HUGS)))) AND ALWAYS MY PRAYERS FOR YOU! Good for you for having a TAMI DAY, and from now on December first is TAMI DAY!

I suspect that Biddy will come back from time to time, and I just suggest NC and all that entails, you know the routine! Personally, I think they ahve the perfect marriage! For them!

how about ‘Wits and Tits’ or ‘Twits’ I better get off here before I get booted for sure…

Oh no….Your gonna get in trouble as the lady with the skillet is here….

OxDrover…yeah, I guess I’ve often felt that my first husband was a socio,too, after learning about them after the last ex. I was SO very young when I was married to him and knew nothing about sociopaths at the time. It’s just that he’s the father of my son and my stepson and he’s been dead since 1993. He committed suicide. The boys were hurt and anytime we speak of his “problem”, we refer to him as being born a “broken” persson. He never beat on the boys but they saw things they shouldn’t. I just don’t really see the point in going back now and thinking about that he, too, was probably a sociopath or possibly having the boys (now grown men) have to know this. He’s been dead and out of our lives for a very long time. I was using his outrageous behavior towards me in an attempt to let you know that I don’t hate easily. It’s actually a NEW emotion for me where people are concerned. I DO hate a few tasks that I have to do…like grocery shopping!!!

Okay, Henry is out of line…what are we going to do about it? LOL! Actually, your comment was funny in a rather distasteful kind of way. I’m up for letting you get away with it if everyone else is. We’ll find a way to make you pay sooner or later! LOL!

Gosh, darn, folks! Can you tell that I’m in GREAT spirits tonight? And, no I haven’t had any “spirits”, either, just my vitamins!


[email protected] BOINK! I told you that you were a baaaaad boy! BOINK!!!

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