Lessons For All Children

But especially for psychopathic ones...

I have spoken pretty extensively about cognitive empathy, and why it is so important. A lot of people asked me how I learned it for myself, which is a pretty involved process, but I can remember where the learning began, and that was through stories.

I have always liked stories. That is something that will get my attention every time. Do you have a good story? Well then, I am going to enjoy hearing it. This wasn’t any different when I was a child. I paid a lot of attention to stories. There were things in them that got my interest, and gave me something to think about, and often, after thinking about those things, they became a part of my idea of, “necessary action”.

As I mentioned, I can remember where some of those lessons came from, and they are things that I think would benefit other children as a whole, but most definitely psychopathic children. Now, I won’t be going back over why you cannot consider children psychopathic. I have written about it extensively, and you can find those posts using the search feature, keyword, children. However, I am a psychopath, and I most definitely was a child. So, I am going to pass along these key points in my life.

Let’s start with the fear factor. Most children have some level of fear of others. Psychopathic children have no idea why that is the case, because fear is totally foreign to us. That means that if someone had an insight into what my currency was as a child, I wouldn’t have thought better of it. They have something I want, bully for me. I wouldn’t think, maybe they don’t have my best interest in mind. How did I learn not to trust others?

Snow White.

Not the new version of it, and certainly not the Disney version. The original. My parents had all the original fairy tales around, and like I said, I like stories. I also could read at a very young age. Young enough that when my Uncle bought a book to be, “read to me”, I looked at him incredulously and said, “I’ll read it myself.” He didn’t believe me until I started reading it to him. He apologized in surprise.

I read Grimm’s Fairy Tales pretty early on, and the original Snow White is not what the film depicts at all. For those of you that don’t know, Snow White was like eight years old. She was not an adult. She was taken into the woods to be killed for her beauty, but the Huntsman decides he can’t kill a child. He kills a deer, cuts out its heart, and takes it to the Evil Queen in Snow White’s stead. She eats the heart, and is very happy with it. You would think she would ask the mirror if it was Snow White’s, but no, apparently, “because I say so”, was enough for her.

Anyway, sooner or later she reasks her, “who’s the fairest”, question, and finds out Snow White is still around. She decides that if she’s going to die, it will have to be at the Evil Queen’s hands. She disguises herself as a frail old woman, and what does she take to Snow White?

For those of you that said an apple, nope, that isn’t the first item. Now, by this time, Snow White has grown up, though they don’t explicitly say that in the story as far as I can recall. It is evident, however, by the first, “gift”, which are corset ribbons. The old woman approaches Snow White at the cottage in the forest and offers to lace her properly. Snow White, thinking, what harm can an old woman peddler be, agrees. The Queen laces her corsets so tightly that it takes her breath from her, and she collapses dead on the ground. This is where the dwarves find her. They cut the corset strings, and she regains her life. They tell her, in no uncertain terms, DO NOT TRUST STRANGERS!!! She agrees, of course, and keeps her word. For like five minutes.

Seeing that the corset strings were not effective in ending Snow White, the Evil Queen comes up with a new strategy. She reapproaches Snow White, and this time she brought a…?

No, not an apple. A comb. Seriously, read the story, it’s worth it. This time, the Queen dresses as a comb seller, and offers to comb Snow White’s hair properly. You would think SW would be like, this sounds familiar, but nope. She totally disregards all the dwarf warnings, and lets the woman in, which of course is poisoned, and she falls down dead… again. Now, if she’s poisoned, that should be it, right? Nope. The dwarves find her, remove the comb, and she regains her life, and I’m like, WTF is Snow White in this story anyway. How is she still alive. I know, I know, fairly tale.

The Queen once again realizes that Snow White is still alive and kicking, somehow, and is a bit upset. Furious, if I remember correctly. She has to try again. So, what’s her plan this time? Now it’s time for the apple. This time, she disguises herself as a farmer’s wife, and offers her an apple. This apple has been carefully poisoned. It is white on one side, and rosy red on the other. When Snow White was like, nah man… I think I’ve been down this road before, the Queen cut the apple in half, biting into the white (unpoisoned) half, showing it was safe, as she gave the red (poisoned) side to Snow White. She eats it, and dead she goes.

The dwarves are devastated when they cannot figure out how to revive her, and instead of burying her, they decide, “Let’s turn her into an idol in the forest”, and built her a fully glass coffin that she laid in, and didn’t decompose. I don’t know how much experience the dwarves had with death, but I imagine that they hunted for meat, and they had to have known that it was totally weird that she was still perfect.

Sooner or later, after she has been on display in death, some prince stumbles on her while hunting, and really really really wants that dead girl in his house for some reason. I mean, who doesn’t need some corpse decor, I guess, and begs the dwarves that he might take her with him. I have no idea why they agree, but they're like, “All right. Take her. We’re done with staring at the dead lady.”

While moving the coffin, they lose control of it, and it crashes to the ground, and the bit of apple that was still caught in Snow White’s throat is dislodged, and she wakes up again. …Like what? How long can this girl be dead and just come back like she’s taking the weirdest afternoon nap ever? Also, I bet a bunch of you thought the true love’s kiss thing was what brought her back, but no, that’s a Disney thing, not a Grimm’s thing.

What did I learn from this? People are often pretty shady, and Snow White has the memory of a flea. Seriously woman, how many people come visiting your hut in the middle of nowhere, that you think that it’s normal someone just shows up offering you free sh*t. This is not a thing that happens. It never does, please learn a little common sense.

This story made me think about the motivations of others, and see past my own motivations. What I wanted might not necessarily be more important than what someone else wanted from me. It added a dimension to the way I viewed the world. Add into that the fact that psychopaths do not have the ability to feel trust, it was a cognitive understanding that I incorporated into how I behaved in the world. Trust me, it was a needed lesson.

Snow White= don’t trust anyone.

Next.

This one isn’t a Fairy Tale, but rather an old TV show called Punky Brewster. There is an episode where the main character is neglecting taking care of her dog. She isn’t making sure his needs are met. This is a serious problem with children and pets, but it would be especially true with psychopathic children. Psychopathic children have no inclination for animal abuse, despite the contrary claims of many, “experts”. What we do have, however, is a significant problem noticing the needs of others. This will be a lifelong problem that will always require active monitoring.

In this episode, Punky is reminded, repeatedly, to take care of her dog, and she keeps forgetting. Then, she has a dream, where she takes her dog’s place, and experiences what it’s like being her own dog. In fairness, I don’t recall much about the episode, but the one aspect that I learned something from, and that was her going to the water dish to get a drink and being disgusted by the quality of the water because she hadn’t changed it. It taught me about what I had to pay attention to. Granted, when I was a kid, I didn’t directly have pets. We as a family did, but I didn’t. Not until later, and even then, I did suck at caring for them for a good while.

However, I am awesome at it now, and I am going to give you another story that taught me how to consider them properly. Sometimes one sitcom episode isn’t enough, you have to have something that you can go back and read again and again.

Punky Brewster, It’s a Dog’s Life= Clean the damn water bowl

This is the last story that I will be talking about today, and it is the only one that I will be providing the full text of. That way you can read it first, and then see what I gleaned from it for cognitive empathy.

The Hut in the Forest

A poor wood-cutter lived with his wife and three daughters in a little hut on the edge of a lonely forest. One morning as he was about to go to his work, he said to his wife, “Let my dinner be brought into the forest to me by my eldest daughter, or I shall never get my work done, and in order that she may not miss her way,” he added, “I will take a bag of millet with me and strew the seeds on the path.”

When, therefore, the sun was just above the center of the forest, the girl set out on her way with a bowl of soup, but the field-sparrows, and wood — sparrows, larks and finches, blackbirds and siskins had picked up the millet long before, and the girl could not find the track. Then trusting to chance, she went on and on, until the sun sank and night began to fall. The trees rustled in the darkness, the owls hooted, and she began to be afraid.

Then in the distance she perceived a light which glimmered between the trees. “There ought to be some people living there, who can take me in for the night,” thought she, and went up to the light. It was not long before she came to a house the windows of which were all lighted up. She knocked, and a rough voice from inside cried, “Come in.”

The girl stepped into the dark entrance, and knocked at the door of the room. “Just come in,” cried the voice, and when she opened the door, an old gray-haired man was sitting at the table, supporting his face with both hands, and his white beard fell down over the table almost as far as the ground. By the stove lay three animals, a hen, a cock, and a brindled cow. The girl told her story to the old man, and begged for shelter for the night. The man said,

“Pretty little hen, Pretty little cock, And pretty brindled cow, What say ye to that?”

“Duks,” answered the animals, and that must have meant, “We are willing,” for the old man said, “Here you shall have shelter and food, go to the fire, and cook us our supper.” The girl found in the kitchen abundance of everything, and cooked a good supper, but had no thought of the animals. She carried the full dishes to the table, seated herself by the gray-haired man, ate and satisfied her hunger. When she had had enough, she said, “But now I am tired, where is there a bed in which I can lie down, and sleep?” The animals replied,

“Thou hast eaten with him, Thou hast drunk with him, Thou hast had no thought for us, So find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night.”

Then said the old man, “Just go upstairs, and thou wilt find a room with two beds, shake them up, and put white linen on them, and then I, too, will come and lie down to sleep.” The girl went up, and when she had shaken the beds and put clean sheets on, she lay down in one of them without waiting any longer for the old man. After some time, however, the gray-haired man came, took his candle, looked at the girl and shook his head. When he saw that she had fallen into a sound sleep, he opened a trap-door, and let her down into the cellar.

Late at night the wood-cutter came home, and reproached his wife for leaving him to hunger all day. “It is not my fault,” she replied, “the girl went out with your dinner, and must have lost herself, but she is sure to come back to-morrow.” The wood-cutter, however, arose before dawn to go into the forest, and requested that the second daughter should take him his dinner that day. “I will take a bag with lentils,” said he; “the seeds are larger than millet, the girl will see them better, and can’t lose her way.” At dinner-time, therefore, the girl took out the food, but the lentils had disappeared. The birds of the forest had picked them up as they had done the day before, and had left none. The girl wandered about in the forest until night, and then she too reached the house of the old man, was told to go in, and begged for food and a bed. The man with the white beard again asked the animals,

“Pretty little hen, Pretty little cock, And pretty brindled cow, What say ye to that?”

The animals again replied “Duks,” and everything happened just as it had happened the day before. The girl cooked a good meal, ate and drank with the old man, and did not concern herself about the animals, and when she inquired about her bed they answered,

“Thou hast eaten with him, Thou hast drunk with him, Thou hast had no thought for us, To find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night.”

When she was asleep the old man came, looked at her, shook his head, and let her down into the cellar.

On the third morning the wood-cutter said to his wife, “Send our youngest child out with my dinner to-day, she has always been good and obedient, and will stay in the right path, and not run about after every wild humble-bee, as her sisters did.” The mother did not want to do it, and said, “Am I to lose my dearest child, as well?”

“Have no fear,’ he replied, “the girl will not go astray; she is too prudent and sensible; besides I will take some peas with me, and strew them about. They are still larger than lentils, and will show her the way.” But when the girl went out with her basket on her arm, the wood-pigeons had already got all the peas in their crops, and she did not know which way she was to turn. She was full of sorrow and never ceased to think how hungry her father would be, and how her good mother would grieve, if she did not go home. At length when it grew dark, she saw the light and came to the house in the forest. She begged quite prettily to be allowed to spend the night there, and the man with the white beard once more asked his animals,

“Pretty little hen, Pretty little cock, And beautiful brindled cow, What say ye to that?”

“Duks,” said they. Then the girl went to the stove where the animals were lying, and petted the cock and hen, and stroked their smooth feathers with her hand, and caressed the brindled cow between her horns, and when, in obedience to the old man’s orders, she had made ready some good soup, and the bowl was placed upon the table, she said, “Am I to eat as much as I want, and the good animals to have nothing? Outside is food in plenty, I will look after them first.” So she went and brought some barley and stewed it for the cock and hen, and a whole armful of sweet — smelling hay for the cow. “I hope you will like it, dear animals,” said she, “and you shall have a refreshing draught in case you are thirsty.” Then she fetched in a bucketful of water, and the cock and hen jumped on to the edge of it and dipped their beaks in, and then held up their heads as the birds do when they drink, and the brindled cow also took a hearty draught. When the animals were fed, the girl seated herself at the table by the old man, and ate what he had left. It was not long before the cock and the hen began to thrust their heads beneath their wings, and the eyes of the cow likewise began to blink. Then said the girl, “Ought we not to go to bed?”

“Pretty little hen, Pretty little cock, And pretty brindled cow, What say ye to that?”

The animals answered “Duks,”

“Thou hast eaten with us, Thou hast drunk with us, Thou hast had kind thought for all of us, We wish thee good-night.”

Then the maiden went upstairs, shook the feather-beds, and laid clean sheets on them, and when she had done it the old man came and lay down on one of the beds, and his white beard reached down to his feet. The girl lay down on the other, said her prayers, and fell asleep.

She slept quietly till midnight, and then there was such a noise in the house that she awoke. There was a sound of cracking and splitting in every corner, and the doors sprang open, and beat against the walls. The beams groaned as if they were being torn out of their joints, it seemed as if the staircase were falling down, and at length there was a crash as if the entire roof had fallen in. As, however, all grew quiet once more, and the girl was not hurt, she stayed quietly lying where she was, and fell asleep again. But when she woke up in the morning with the brilliancy of the sunshine, what did her eyes behold? She was lying in a vast hall, and everything around her shone with royal splendor; on the walls, golden flowers grew up on a ground of green silk, the bed was of ivory, and the canopy of red velvet, and on a chair close by, was a pair of shoes embroidered with pearls. The girl believed that she was in a dream, but three richly clad attendants came in, and asked what orders she would like to give? “If you will go,” she replied, “I will get up at once and make ready some soup for the old man, and then I will feed the pretty little hen, and the cock, and the beautiful brindled cow.” She thought the old man was up already, and looked round at his bed; he, however, was not lying in it, but a stranger. And while she was looking at him, and becoming aware that he was young and handsome, he awoke, sat up in bed, and said, “I am a King’s son, and was bewitched by a wicked witch, and made to live in this forest, as an old gray-haired man; no one was allowed to be with me but my three attendants in the form of a cock, a hen, and a brindled cow. The spell was not to be broken until a girl came to us whose heart was so good that she showed herself full of love, not only towards mankind, but towards animals — and that thou hast done, and by thee at midnight we were set free, and the old hut in the forest was changed back again into my royal palace.” And when they had arisen, the King’s son ordered the three attendants to set out and fetch the father and mother of the girl to the marriage feast. “But where are my two sisters?” inquired the maiden. “I have locked them in the cellar, and to-morrow they shall be led into the forest, and shall live as servants to a charcoal-burner, until they have grown kinder, and do not leave poor animals to suffer hunger.”

What I learned was that there must be a cognitive choice to place the needs of the animals in my life above my own. Changing my habits is not a difficult thing for me when I decide to do so, but the deciding part can be a problem. There are plenty of things that I know I should be better about, but they simply aren’t incorporated into my routine. However, when I have finally come to the conclusion that something does need to be a part of my daily habits, then I simply make a conscious choice to make it be.

This story was what brought about that conscious choice when it came to the animals that I have. Mind you, this was long after I was mature enough and had made the decision to make sure their needs were met. This decision was about placing their needs in front of my own. It was also the template that I used to decide to put some people’s needs or wants in front of my own, and let me tell you, that is a huge thing for a psychopath to do. There will never be an inclination to do so, so it always must be a conscious choice that has to be made again and again. This story helped lay that foundation for me to be able to do so.

This post is part of my learning of cognitive empathy. Other parts came from the people around me. I can explore those as well, if you guys are interested. Let me know.

As for these stories. They are a good lesson for children to be able to think outside themselves and consider the world as a whole. This is necessary for them to come to the conclusion that they are going to create the world in which they want to live. This can be a phenomenally difficult thing to get a psychopath to prioritize, and it has to be done through demonstration of how it serves self-interest. Otherwise, you can forget it.

I like an easy world. I also like stuff and things to do, and many other aspects of living. When I was younger, it was super easy to put those things in front of logical thinking. I might like X, but X creates problems in my life that I don’t really like dealing with. When I was younger, X was the focus. Now that I am older, and I can see consequences of actions (another thing I had to learn and decide to care about) I find that what I want doesn’t always get priority over what is easy.

Psychopaths are like an electric current. We will always find the fastest way to complete the circuit unless there is a reason not to. We have to learn what those reasons are, and choose to place them above what we want in that moment. It’s impulse control, and the building blocks of that come from a variety of places. Without that, there aren’t a whole lot of stopgaps in the way of impulses. None of the typical things work on us, so they cannot be relied on.

I am certain that this is not only true of psychopaths, but of many types of people, which is why I think the lessons in stories are important. Also, I don’t mean modern stories. It seems that many modern writers cannot write anything of interest. They have no idea how to build and craft a narrative, and there aren’t lessons to be found in them any longer. The old stories are teachings put into an accessible form, and they should remain as a focus to give direction in children’s lives.

Also also, I think that the darkness found in the original stories is also important. The world is not gumdrops and lollypops, it is full of dark and disturbing things that children are better off knowing about.

Why do I think that?

In Australia, an estimated 20,000 children are reported missing every year.
Australian Federal Police, National Coordination Centre.

In Canada, an estimated 45,288 children are reported missing each year.
Government of Canada, Canada’s Missing – 2015 Fast Fact Sheet.

In Germany, an estimated 100,000 children are reported missing each year.
Initiative Vermisste Kinder.

In India, an estimated 96,000 children go missing each year.
Bachpan Bachao Andolan, Missing Children of India.

In Jamaica, an estimated 1,984 children were reporting missing in 2015.
Jamaica’s Office of Children’s Registry

In Russia, an estimated 45,000 children were reported missing in 2015.
Interview with Pavel Astakhov MIA “Russia Today”, Apr. 4, 2016.

In Spain, an estimated 20,000 children are reported missing every year.
Spain Joins EU Hotline for Missing Children, Sep. 22, 2010.

In the United Kingdom, an estimated 112,853 children are reported missing every year.
National Crime Agency, UK Missing Persons Bureau.

In the United States, an estimated 460,000 children are reported missing every year.
Federal Bureau of Investigation, NCIC.

This, however, is only a snapshot of the problem. In many countries, statistics on missing children are not even available; and, unfortunately, even available statistics may be inaccurate due to: under-reporting/under-recognition; inflation; incorrect database entry of case information; and deletion of records once a case is closed.

That’s why.

Granted, I know some of them are taken by the noncustodial parent, but a lot aren’t.

Another place where stories have given me insight into the world are true scary story narrations. You would not believe the number of stories are about a kid being followed by strangers, approached by a stranger to accompany them, are lied to get them to come along, are simply walked away by someone while their parents are looking the other direction for half a second. You might think, well, people make those stories up a lot of the time. I sort of had that thought in the back of my mind as well. That is, until a bunch of stories of these exact circumstances were talked about on new stations, with the accompanying video, showing exactly what the stories described happening.

The people that tell these stories knew enough to know that they were in danger, which is why they are around to tell what happened to them. The ones that aren’t? The ones in those missing person statistics? A lot of them probably could have benefitted from those dark stories. The rest? Well, they might be better at taking care of their pets, and that is a good thing for everyone.

Oh, I just remembered another really good one, and I will leave the link to it. It’s called, Mother Hulda. That is also a great story that speaks to hard work and not being entitled. Great lessons for a psychopath to learn.

Missing Children’s Statistics

Mother Hulda