A sociopath pushes back against stereotype as unredeemable monster
Patric Gagne, PhD, is an author and doctor of psychology. She is a loving wife, mother of two, daughter, and friend. She is also a sociopath. In “Sociopath: A Memoir,” Gagne recounts her life experience and efforts to untangle not just the workings of her own psyche but widespread and problematic perceptions of sociopathy.
From a young age, Gagne felt different. She recognized “the look” that her classmates or parents gave her when she didn’t proffer an expected emotional reaction. Apathy was her comfort zone, but that led to internal pressure which culminated in destructive urges. “Certain emotions — like happiness and anger — came naturally,” she writes. “But social emotions — things like guilt, empathy, remorse, and even love — did not. Most of the time, I felt nothing. So I did ‘bad’ things to make the nothingness go away.”
In childhood, “bad things” meant violent outbursts, like stabbing a kid in the head with a pencil, or the theft of trinkets from acquaintances. But Gagne soon understood that she had to tame her dark side: “I knew that hurting others couldn’t be a long-term solution.” She resolved to “find something less extreme.” Based in self-preservation, this decision sowed the seeds of a defining moral code that developed as she grew. Aiming to temper the gravity of her compulsions, she shifted to stealing cars from drunken frat boys and breaking into empty homes.
When Gagne discovered the term “sociopath,” she realized she was not alone in experiencing her perplexing dearth of emotion, but the diagnosis’s negative connotations demoralized her. She dove into research and therapy, embarking on a mission to destigmatize the personality disorder and forge a helpful path for the millions who share it. Gagne eventually earned a doctorate in clinical psychology, and believes sociopathy is an emotional learning disorder that exists on a spectrum.
“Sociopath” makes a plea to its audience to re
consider the monolithic label with which we collectively shun sociopaths. Candid and impassioned, this memoir demands empathy from the reader — a possibly reluctant exercise if said reader has ever fallen prey to sociopathic manipulations. What differentiates Gagne from easily conjured stereotypes, however, is her ardent curiosity paired with a fierce desire to assimilate and find love. She wants to fit in — and she is determined to learn how.
In college, Gagne attended parties solely to observe behavior and mannerisms, learning, for example, that “touching someone on the arm during a conversation quickly rendered them more comfortable.” She describes her condition as a “feelings disability,” and these acquired behaviors became “breadcrumbs, leading me down a path toward social inclusion.”
Can Gagne ever fit in? This question propels “Sociopath.” The memoir reads both like a mystery, as we follow her scalpelsharp dissection of her own psychological layers, and a classic coming-ofage tale, as she evolves with each successful disentangling of her existential complexities.
“What if the bad parts of my personality weren’t bad at all,” Gagne posits. “What if they were simply different?” Sociopaths aren’t “evil,” she insists. She herself demonstrates an understanding of right and wrong, and a sense of justice, her morality tied to logic rather than emotion. Cognizant of her capacity to make choices, good or bad, she relies on the concept of karma to provide a system of checks and balances unavailable to her innate makeup. Sociopathy is akin to “bad eyesight,” she explains, where one has to squint to discern certain emotions.
“Sociopath” explores psychology at length, in terms of Gagne’s self-analysis and the research she investigates, but it neither wades into the realm of “bad sociopaths” — those who destroy without remorse or desire for reform — nor delves into the origins of sociopathy. Instead, “Sociopath” tells the story of one person who doesn’t see her experience reflected in broadly accepted perceptions of the disorder. And as such, it compels.
Gagne writes from a place of privilege. She can afford a home of her own and years of intense therapy. She is bright and highly educated. But more importantly, she benefits from love. Gagne considers her mother her “emotional compass”; her father listens to her confessions and nudges her toward treatment. Later, Gagne finds an anchor in a partner who offers her both wonder and acceptance, which helps shape her self-awareness. This privilege allows her to safely explore the question: What is it to exist without feeling in a world where emotion is the currency of human exchange and belonging?
Gagne’s writing is peppered with colorful language and a touch of lyricism. In quiet moments of reflection, the sun sets, light slants through a window, a candle is blown out, and always shadows lurk. This imagery illustrates the liminality of her position, edging on darkness. Meanwhile the audiobook, narrated by the author, offers rich layers of nuance only intuited from the text: a devilish sense of humor, warmth, and remarkable pathos.
If a memoir’s credibility is rooted in emotional truth, can the reader trust a narrator who is an avowed manipulator? After all, Gagne opens “Sociopath” with the lines: “I’m a liar. I’m a thief. I’m emotionally shallow. I’m mostly immune to remorse and guilt. I’m highly manipulative. … I’m capable of almost anything.” Does “Sociopath” perform the ultimate emotional sleight of hand, then, in garnering our empathy?
It’s possible that “Sociopath” is an elaborate mind game, but that would defeat its purpose. In being forthright, Gagne appeals to our shared humanity and the potential for change. This thought-provoking memoir reminds us that everyone deserves supportive treatment, love, and acceptance.