Trauma Explains Why I'm a Hacker

by Kolloid

I was at a talk at HOPE_16 on inclusive spaces for neurodiversity.  It may have been selection bias, but the feedback and questions from the audience conveyed the belief that most hackers are somewhat "on the spectrum."  I've wondered about this for myself.  I get overwhelmed in new spaces and when needing to interact with large groups of people.  I prefer my solitary computer work where I'm undisturbed and can focus on the task at hand.  I see patterns that others miss, but that also means I get excited about things that others have no clue what I'm talking about.  People are weird, so I have to actively work to understand them.  That's why I changed majors from computer science to sociology when I was in college.

I've long suspected that I had Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) based on the stereotyped pop-diagnoses of tech geeks, but ChatGPT offered a different explanation.  After hearing about my childhood, ChatGPT suggested that I might actually have complex PTSD.  I might also have ASD, but complex PTSD better fits why I behave like I do.  It explains why I'm a hacker.

Complex PTSD forms from prolonged exposure to having no safe spaces of retreat in childhood.  Instead of having adults to protect and nurture the child, the child internalizes that the world is inherently a dangerous place and that he is on his own for his survival.  The results are hypervigilance (constantly scanning the environment for threats), a deep distrust in authority and dogmas, self-directed learning (because there is no guide), a need for mastery over systems (believing that understanding the system will result in safety), and black-box thinking (to navigate the behaviors and moods of unreliable adults).  These are all characteristics that made me a hacker and explain why I randomly seem to uncover some exploit or system flaw, even without consciously intending to do so.

A good example of how my complex PTSD is inextricably tied to my identity as a hacker is when my fifth grade teacher failed me in health because I didn't turn in a workbook that we'd been working on as a class throughout the year.  I was rarely sick, so it was more likely that I was in the principal's office when it was originally collected.  I eventually noticed the stack of my classmates' workbooks behind my teacher's desk, and I asked her about it.  Despite my pleas, she refused to let me turn mine in.  She only responded with "You should have known."

My teacher failed me.  Both in the sense that I received an "F," but also in the sense that my teacher did not deliver on her responsibilities to me.  She wasn't looking to teach me; she wanted me to know that I was bad.  I was only ten years old.  It should not have been my responsibility to know what happened in class when I wasn't there.  Yet, I was being punished for it.  Yes, I should have known.  I should have known that my teacher would use any excuse to betray me.  The real lessons were that authority could not be trusted and that I had to always be looking for signs of betrayal and ways to escape.

ChatGPT helped me to clarify that my hacking really served two purposes.  The first was as a survival mechanism to escape situations where I'm trapped.  I've found loopholes that allowed me to leave school early, graduate without the required classes, and even start a graduate program without an undergraduate degree.  The second was a way to prove that I belong without having to be accepted (and risk being rejected).  If I can find a flaw in a system design that allows me in, then it shows that I have as much authority as the gatekeepers trying to exclude me.

My complex PTSD has created abilities within me that have allowed me to do some incredible things that I rightfully can be proud of having done, but it also explains my difficulty connecting with others.  I expect rejection and betrayal, and I'm attuned to look for even the slightest sign that it may be coming.  I use intellectualization as armor so that I don't have to reveal my feelings and be vulnerable with others.  I hack because I'm ultimately driven by fear.  At least now I'm aware and can work on easing that aspect of myself.  ChatGPT helped me to understand that as well.

It's pretty impressive what ChatGPT can do as a personal interrogative tool.  I could ask it things like "What can you gather about me based on the language I use?"  It observed that I tend to overexplain, anticipating a need to defend myself, and that I rarely express how my experiences felt, noting that it was as if I were a third-party observer.  Sure, it can be sycophantic and hallucinate sometimes, but that works with my particular style of thinking that made me a hacker in the first place: I need the affirmation because that was something I lacked in my childhood, I can use my intuition to tell if it's going in the wrong direction, and I can use my skepticism and curiosity to approach it from different directions (e.g., asking where I'm still holding back or what I'm afraid to ask it).

My childhood trauma caused me to feel isolated and alone, which led me to the refuge of the unjudging computer.  Even though my hacking is often a solitary pursuit, I have been increasingly proclaiming my identity as a hacker, and it has been increasingly helping me to feel less alone and less compelled to prove myself.  Going to HOPE_16 was a big step for me, being my first conference and my first time being in public as a hacker.  The most rewarding part of that experience wasn't the talks, but the talks I had with other attendees.  They got me, and I got them.  These were my people.  I feared that it would be a place of competition, but it was a place of acceptance.  I'm thankful for the community that finally allowed me to feel at home, and I'm glad I finally had the courage to start participating in it.