“Sociopaths are incapable of feeling shame, guilt or remorse. Their brains simply lack the circuitry to process such emotions. This allows them to betray people, threaten people or harm people without giving it a second thought. They pursue any action that serves their own self interest even if it seriously harms others.” Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/036112_sociopaths_cults_influence.html#ixzz2LGdaUKiP
“I don’t want you bringing your mother’s world into my world” – My father said variations of this statement so many times when I was a child that I really began to believe that he had or owned a world… that it was his. I began to think of my mother’s house as a different world than the world that my father claimed to own and rule. The world he ruled was a rundown two bedroom single wide mobile home that he, his wife, and three children all shared. The contrast between the worlds was magnificent. My father’s house was full of yelling and walking on eggshells that I never seemed to tread carefully enough. My mother’s house was one that contained very little discipline, but it also was an atmosphere of complete acceptance and freedom. Neither environment was ideal for children, but as a child, it is obvious which one any child would run for if the opportunity arose.
My father couldn’t stand my mother, and his hate seemed to have no limits. My step-mother, at times, appeared to be battling her hate, but I’m not sure that she ever won. My theory is that dad thought he was self-righteous in his hate, while my step-mother seemed to be tormented by the things she did and said very shortly after doing them. I think she hated herself for not being able to control the emotions that consumed her. I say this as objectively as I can – that people like this shouldn’t ever be around children. The demons you battle are not an excuse to make your children or other people’s children suffer.
My mother got to keep my brother and I for two weeks during our summer break, and my mother tried her best to make sure that it was full of fun things to do. She saw us very little during this time of our lives, so she seemed to always make a point of making our time with her a positive one. One summer she had a woman and her daughter stay with us. The girl was a couple of years younger than me, and I can’t remember her name but I do remember the two of us playing together that entire two weeks. The little girl had other friends that would come over at times to play, and it was at this time that the little girl and I got lice. We were treated immediately by our mothers and everything went back to normal for a couple of days until it was time to return to my father and stepmother.
My mother mentioned to my father that their had been a lice problem and that he may want to double-check my brother and I before letting us back into his house. The little girl I played with had gone back around the other little girls that gave it to us in the first place. My mother knew there was a chance that we probably had got it again, but since it was time to give us back to our father then she thought all she could do was warn my father and stepmother.
A sociopath’s primary concern is his own well-being, and my father became livid. The speeches about how this was his world began to increase daily. His hate filled comments about how only someone as low as my mother would do something like this to “him” began to be directed toward me particularly. The only reason I can think of is because my hair was very long and I was a girl being raised like something extremely similar to a holiness girl. I say similar because I can’t recall my father ever declaring to be one denomination or another. I wore blue jean skirts down to my ankles, my hair was down my back, cutting my hair was a sin, wearing makeup was a sin, and if I put on pants… I might as well already be in hell. My brother’s head was shaved immediately, and I became quarantined. My father seemed to hold this incident against me like I had exposed him to lice intentionally. I would like to remind my readers that I was still 9 years old almost 10 when all of this was happening. I didn’t even know what lice was until this incident occurred. This didn’t seem to matter. I had wronged this man. I had brought something undesirable into his world, and I was going to be punished for it.
My father asked me one time why I ran away from home. I ran away from home many times, and he only caught me a few of them. I replied that “The devil made me do it.” He believed me and started to pray over me. I don’t think he ever considered that he was the devil who drove me to running.
My escape from this hell was a couple of friends that I had at school who seemed to accept me as I was. I didn’t have to try to be anything else for them, and this was a breath of fresh air. When I started getting phone calls at home from one of these friends, another hell began to brew. I don’t know if it was because my father saw that it made me happy or if it was some other twisted reason, but I became a target once again.
If you are ever under the control of a sociopath and you find that you can’t escape in the foreseeable future, do not ever show outwardly that something gives you joy besides them. Because they will seek with everything they have to destroy the source of that joy. It has everything to do with how much they can control, and very little to do with anything else. It was around this time that I began to realize what my father was. In my nine-year old mind, it equated simply to – a bad man.
My father was still extremely paranoid about the lice even though I had been treated beyond the recommended amount, and so I was periodically checked for lice by my stepmother. She resented me for having to do this even though it was my father that was making her do it. Psychology amazes me. Somehow my father got it in his head that I was still getting lice at school, and that I was getting it from one friend in particular. She was the friend who called me at home, and she was also poor. It is beyond hypocritical what he did next. He decided that she was the reason that I was still bringing lice into “his world” and that if he found out I was hanging out with her again, he was going to shave my head.
I’m not the sort of person that stops hanging out with someone else because they are poor especially since I was poor myself, and I seemed to understand this at nine years old when my father didn’t.
The day I got my head shaved, my father said, “I’m going to take away what you seem to think so precious. Being popular.” I’m not entirely sure what universe my father was from, but I was anything but popular. I had one friend that made me happy at school, and this happiness was obviously unbearable for him. May God help him find some peace.
We were going to a public school now, and I was in the 5th grade. Fifth graders can be horrible creatures if their parents do not know how to raise children, and I was bullied and outcast relentlessly. I was always in the library checking out books to escape society, and the school librarian got the principal to call my stepmother and ask what my home life was like because I never smiled. My stepmother told me that if she got another phone call like that, she would hit me with the belt and give me a reason to not smile. She was embarrassed. I get it. She should have been. Any time you have to threaten a child to smile… there is something seriously wrong with you. Just a reality check people.
This was just the beginning of a two-year episode of being forced to go to a small town southern school wearing holiness outfits with my head shaved. If you don’t quite grasp the seriousness of that hell for a kid, then continue to read my story in my next blog.
I bet you are wondering by now how I’m so normal?
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17
Many of my readers may think that I couldn’t possibly think of myself in a healthy light after all of this, but if you don’t know already, then you should know now. There is no healthier light to see yourself in than Jesus Christ.