Imagine being home alone, tucked in bed, shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, a loud thud echoes through the house. What could it be? You attempt to drift off to sleep, but anxiety grips you. Lying on your back, you stare at the ceiling, clutching your blanket tightly. Did you lock the doors? Your heart races as you listen intently, the hairs on your neck standing on end. Tears fill your eyes, but you dare not let them fall; making a sound could attract the attention of a lurking figure.
This was the reality my brother and I faced daily as children raised by two sociopaths. For kids like us, the boogeyman is all too real. My father, a violent sociopath, was unpredictable; no particular action could trigger his explosive rage. Whether it was a facial expression or a loud laugh, we lived in constant fear of setting him off. Crying or running away only intensified his aggression, so I learned to stifle my tears, especially when I was alone in my bedroom.
Most of my father’s violent outbursts occurred at night when he was intoxicated. He harbored a delusional ideology that made him see anyone who wasn’t German as inferior. If he disliked someone, no matter the reason, he expressed a desire to eliminate them. Each time I heard the garage door open at night, dread washed over me. I braced myself for what might unfold—would he unleash his fury on our mother, my younger brother, or me? My brother, who has Down syndrome, was particularly vulnerable, and the fear for his safety was as palpable as my own. Like many sociopaths, my father’s lack of remorse was chilling; any harm he inflicted was always justified in his mind.
During the day, my mother was our tormentor. I often found her cruelty more unbearable than my father’s physical aggression. She thrived on the knowledge of my dislike for her, which only fueled her rage. The emotional abuse I suffered at her hands felt worse than the physical threats from my father. I longed for a nurturing figure, but my mother was far from comforting. Instead, she devised ways to harm us emotionally and mentally. We were routinely accused of things that existed solely in her imagination or that she had done herself. For instance, she often rummaged through my father’s belongings, then blamed us when he got angry. When I sought comfort from her, I was met with accusations: “That didn’t happen. You’re just an ungrateful brat. You should be thankful for us.”
The persistent fear that something terrible was about to happen took a severe toll on our mental and physical health. In coping with his anxiety, my brother resorted to self-harm. As a child, he would bang his head against doors or walls until he bled. This later escalated to cutting and burning himself. I, on the other hand, bottled up my anxiety. When overwhelmed, I would dissociate. I remember escaping to my “happy place,” a mental image of a cozy cabin filled with toys where I could avoid the chaos and violence of my home life.
This haunting experience drives my passion for raising awareness about sociopathy. While many adults suffer at the hands of sociopaths, the most heartbreaking aspect is when children become their victims. Children’s minds are delicate and struggle to grasp the complexities of personality disorders. Growing up with sociopathic parents creates a profound internal conflict; they yearn for a bond with their guardians, only to discover that those who should protect them are the very source of their fear. This harrowing experience is isolating and painful, and I hope to prevent other children from enduring a similar fate. Boogeymen should remain fictional, not be a part of one’s home.
If you find yourself or someone you know in a similar situation, consider checking out resources like this blog post about married psychopaths for support. Additionally, you can visit Out of the Fog for guidance on detaching from toxic relationships, and Healthline provides excellent information on sociopathy and narcissism.
It’s crucial to be vigilant and recognize the signs of sociopathy to protect ourselves and our loved ones. Remember, you are not alone.