Childhood

Earliest Memories…

My earliest memory is one in which I caused another person horrific pain. I was on some sort of swing set contraption with another child when I was suddenly struck by the overpowering urge to pull the kid’s pigtails. I remember tugging on them viciously and relentlessly, in spite of the big noise she was making, and enjoying the sensation of having the power to induce such a major reaction. There was nothing about the child’s crying, screaming or begging that compelled me to want to stop, I did not “feel her pain” or empathize with her to any degree, and I only stopped because of the parental intervention and fuss that ensued. Nevertheless, I do not think that such displays are universal or even reliable indicators of future antisocial temperament; this type of behaviour is no doubt common to many children.

Primary School…

I never got along with other kids during my early childhood because I always insisted upon holding the entire balance of power in my interactions with them. When I was four and five years old, I refused to play with others unless I could first get them to agree that I would be the boss. As a kid in primary school, I frequently became vocally belligerent, and regularly got into physical fights with children who teased me. I was an odd, smart kid who was ostracized and rejected, and the subject of frequent verbal humiliation. Yet I did not fear the children who tormented me, nor did I permit myself to develop the mentality of a victim, which I perceived as weak. Sometimes, I confronted my oppressors vehemently, in conflicts that would rapidly escalate and end in violence. Other times, I would hide in the bathroom and cry throughout recess.  I was prone to hyperactivity, tantrums and violent outbursts, and I could never keep my mouth shut when opposed or defied. Yet I consistently achieved the highest grades in my class, in an enriched stream. I baffled and exhausted my teachers.

In spite of my poor impulse control, strong-will, and vile temper, I was emotionally sensitive, yet treated very harshly both at home and at school.  I had no siblings to confide in, no deep friendships to help me through.  My father, being a psychopath, was prone to physical and verbal abuse.  My mother worked all the time.

By the time I reached high school, I had been negatively socialized to the point that I had effectively become antisocial. I was able to literally “shut off” caring what anyone else thought of me or my behaviors.  The defense mechanism had become deeply entrenched: I didn’t like people, they didn’t like me, and I could not have cared less.

I had learned to be self-sufficient.

A Pattern of Abuse…

At home, I had some “normal” friendships where I was not overtly abusive, but there was one little girl, Julia, whom I regularly delighted in exploiting. One day, she found a beautiful rock encrusted with gold and white quartz crystals that I coveted intensely. So I waited until she went inside, and simply took it. I claimed it as my own, and refused to let her have it back, overtly declaring that I had found it. This was typical of our relationship. She was a few years younger than me and thus very easy to manipulate. Whenever I mistreated her to the point that she would threaten to “tell on me”, I bribed her with candy or treats, for she was overweight and prone to gluttony. Sometimes I was obliged to fulfill my conniving promises to her, but more often than not, I found ways to avoid paying the bribe. I never felt guilty about it.

Grossly Inappropriate Reactions…

I alienated another childhood friend due to an incident in which I reacted in a grossly inappropriate manner. I used to haunt an old shipyard near my house, which was abandoned and unsupervised. I would convince my friend to climb onto huge metal barges with me. The ships were pretty high from our perspective along the land, which was a big peninsula that had a bike path running along it. As we embarked upon the ships, our weight would start to push the barges away from the side, so we had to scramble to get on without falling into the water. I was riveted and energized by the challenge. One afternoon, however, things took a turn for the worst. My friend got stuck with one leg on a ship and the other on land, and the ship was moving away from the peninsula. She was stuck and really panicking, screaming frantically. She had also begun to cry.

I didn’t help my friend, because I was literally doubled over and rendered completely ineffective by my hysterical laughter. She was begging me to help her, but I was laughing to the point that I had tears in my eyes, because there were stinking, rotting fish and loads of garbage in the water right under her, and this struck me as uproariously funny. (On some level, it still does. I cannot help but chuckle as I remember her horrified, bulging eyes.) Some guy riding along on his bike had to stop and assist her out of her predicament, as I was unable to stop laughing. I’ll never forget the way that guy looked at me. His eyes clearly said: there is something *seriously* wrong with you, kid, and he was probably right.  This girl stopped being my friend after that point, as I showed absolutely no remorse.

This was a pattern in my childhood friendships. I was impulsive, manipulative, cruel, and prone to leading my friends into dangerous, risky situations.

None of my childhood friendships endured into adolescence.