My own struggles

My daughter is a sociopath

Sounds harsh doesn’t it? Of this I have little doubt. I say ‘little’ because I always hope that maybe, just maybe, just because she fits every single description of a sociopath she’s not really one. Maybe, just maybe she’ll grow one day and this will all be a distant nightmare.

I know, I know… if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, quacks like a duck… it’s probably a duck. Sigh.

So, I find I’m going through the grieving process. Step by step.

1. Denial and Isolation.

I’ve been here for a while. I still come back here every so often. I go ‘round and ‘round. What if she’s not really a sociopath, what if she just makes really bad choices? Oh wait, that’s part of it, isn’t it? I haven’t wanted to talk to anyone about it really, I don’t want to drag anyone down, no one knows what to say to me anyway, it’s very much like a death, no one really has words of comfort or wisdom that can help. Not that they don’t want to… well, you know. We all want to help, just don’t know how.

2. Anger.

‘Oh boy have I been angry. Angry at her, angry at her sperm donor father who is also one (so I learn too late) as is his brother. Genetic? You think? Sigh. Yes it is. I’m angry at her for not overcoming it with all the love and support and sacrifice we made for her. I’m angry because all we’ve done, and we’ve tried everything, nothing helped. I’m angry because I am responsible for loosing her on an unsuspecting world and I can’t fix it. I’m angry because I made her with a sociopath.

Granted. If you do any research on sociopaths, they are very common and normal people wouldn’t spot one until after you’ve been heartbroken and left penniless. Then comes the ‘aha’ moment. Too late. I still blame myself.

3. Bargaining.

Here too, have I spent some time. More in the idea that what if we do this, or try this, will that make her better? I know there’s nothing left, we have quite literally tried everything. She is who and what she is. We have no more power to stop her.

4. Depression.

Such depression. Again with the isolation. I find I don’t really want to talk to anyone. No one can possible understand how I feel or help. Here is where I seem to be most often now. Although, just when I think I’m not angry anymore, she calls and OH BOY, nope, I’m still angry. I don’t know how to accept that my child is a danger to society and to herself. That she has no emotion, she hasn’t the ability to love. She has no empathy. She’s selfish and manipulative and I can’t stop her. Therapy doesn’t help them. No known drugs can help them. They are actually hard wired differently than we are. The only advice I can find is “get them completely out of your life” Well, that’s rough to do, when it’s your very own child. Even though I know that’s what it’ll come to someday.

5. Acceptance.

I long for this and dread this at the same time. Once I accept it as no longer my responsibility, I’ll have no choice than to let go of her completely and move forward. I dread it because that will admit that my daughter is dead, the daughter I thought I had, the daughter I hoped I had. She doesn’t exist, never has. It is very much like a death. I don’t know that it’s possible for me to get here. At the same time, I can’t seem to live my life until I do get here.