Home > bipolar, depression, hallucinations, horror, low, mania, psychosis, sex, werewolves > I Was a Teen Age Werewolf

I Was a Teen Age Werewolf

It started out when I was about six, with an affinity for Wile E. Coyote. Wile E. was smart in his own way, but very unlucky. He was also bloodthirsty and murderous, but it was acceptable because he never won. He wasn’t brave, but he never stopped trying, either. Mainly, though, he was alone. He didn’t have any friends and, unlike Buggs Bunny, he rarely talked. In fact when he did talk it was always to Buggs Bunny. Wile E. was the perfect companion for a pre-depression bipolar child.

When I was nine there was a book of monster stories called “Monster Tales” in the school library that was pretty advanced for primary school kids (and I was an advanced reader). In particular there was a story about a boy who had a witch turn him into a werewolf to get revenge on a nobleman who killed his dog. It was a very Wile E. Coyote situation–and just as successful. The ritual for becoming a werewolf was also very sexually charged (for a kid’s book). The sex, the violence, and the transformation into something strong and terrible all appealed to me. I had a photographic memory and I would return to this story again and again as a source of sexual fantasies. When I felt persecuted I would imagine that I could turn into a werewolf and get bloody revenge.

When I was 16 I had already started to have mood swings. I had terrible rages during which I could have committed murder were it not for the fact that I was so over the top I was completely impotent. Even when I wasn’t raging, sometimes I felt like I could commit murder, and I would plan it out. Luckily by 16 I knew I couldn’t get away with anything. I had manic episodes where I would wake up in the middle of the night and every speck of dust had some cosmic significance. I knew I had some great destiny to fulfill but I didn’t know what. I was also abnormally sexually aroused.

That year (1984), Stephen King and Peter Straub released The Talisman, which was a pretty good book. Back then I read everything Stephen King published. One of the characters of The Talisman was Wolf, who was the first heroic werewolf I’d ever encountered. I immediately identified with him. In fact, I began to think of my mood swings as evidence that I was a werewolf. I hadn’t transformed yet, but perhaps I would. My thinking was probably psychotic at this point.

One important point was that Wolf was heroic and he channelled his murderous instincts into socially acceptable ways. I started trying to do the same, but at 16 without much success. I couldn’t exactly go killing livestock. Instead I kept everything bottled up.

I lived outside of town with thousands of hectares of forest around, and I would go into the woods, strip naked, and run around on all fours pretending I was a wolf. If I couldn’t transform, I wanted to experience things as closely as I could. I was convinced, however, that I was going to transform some day.

My moods continued to swing and I suffered depressions and periods of deep despair. I didn’t see a pattern at this point and I didn’t understand what was happening to me. It was during a depression when I was 17 that I was experiencing depair, fatigue, and a profound sense of fear towards everything. I had a dream that satan was everywhere I went, closing in on me. I dreamt I woke up and satan was at the foot of my bed, pulling the sheets and me down towards him. I transformed into a wolf and jumped over him and out the door. My parents heard my screams and found me in the hallway.

I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, and when I saw the sun come up it filled me with peace and strength. I realized that a werewolf was the scariest thing in the world, but that a werewolf could run beside you as well as chase you from behind. Werewolves were the Keepers of the Garden of Eden[1]. They didn’t need to be afraid of anything.

Ever since that day I have not felt fear, probably stupidly so, but all the same. I have stood my ground to bullies (finally!). I have run naked through the forest in the rain at 3am. I have woken up at 5am covered in mud from head to foot. I have been in car accidents. I have been a metre from a man with a gun who was shooting randomly in Berlin. I have been accused of kidnapping by a foster child for whom I had no documentation. I have not felt fear.[2]

In my mid 30s I was in touch with other werewolves on the Internet. We were quite serious about our obsession and we looked down on the New Agers, the role-players, and the furries. I think at least some of the others were bipolar like me, or otherwise mentally ill. We were all quite serious that we were going to transform some day. In fact, one night as I was drifting off to sleep I suddenly felt my body filled with manic energy except this time it became liquid and started to flow. I was changing shape! Unfortunately, as soon as I paid attention to what was happening it stopped. Still, it was possible.

The obsession became too great however. I was spending more time online than offline. Also, there was a definite sexual aspect to it. There is a market for werewolf porn (one part furry porn with wolves and werewolves and one part National Geographic). I was putting my relationship with my husband in danger, so I had to cut myself off from the other werewolves.

Finally, I found myself in telepathic contact with wolves in Northern Ontario who were being held in an enclosure. They wanted me to come and let them out. I knew I could just drive and I would find them and I knew that the enclosure was built in such a way that I could open the door and then hide behind it so the wolves couldn’t get me. I asked myself, however, did I have to do something just because I was told to do so. I decided no and I was so proud of myself. Later, when I was on my meds, I realized there were no wolves and I was shocked.

With my meds, the rages, the manias, the hypersexuality, the hallucinations of transformation, and the psychoses of telepathy are under control. Knowing that I am bipolar provides a much better explanation for what is happening to me than thinking I am a werewolf. I still like wolves, of course: they are beautiful beings. However, I am not one. As a human, I am more powerful than a wolf. Just ask Liam Neeson[3].

So there is the evolution of an obsession with wolves and werewolves, from Wile E. Coyote to hallucinations and psychoses. On one hand I am glad to have put it behind me. On the other hand, I’m like an alcoholic who isn’t drinking. It wouldn’t take much to fall off the wagon. Thinking that you really are a werewolf is a great feeling (and please do realize that murderousness is still a part of it).

[1]It was funny to find “Werewolf: The Apocalypse”, the role-playing game, a few years later and see that they had probably already thought of this mythology.

[2]I do scream my lungs out on thrill rides at Canada’s Wonderland.

[3]In the movie “Grey” Liam Neeson must defend himself against a pack of wolves.

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