ulfrvif: Stylized, Nordic wolf head. (Default)
 You may have read “From Human to Beast” ( ulfrvif.dreamwidth.org/7882.html ) but I'd felt the need to write about that part of my life again, explain it in a different way, from another perspective that might help others understand.

To remove the wolf from myself would be to destroy myself. Wolf is integral, so intertwined within my being that it's just who and what I am. Denying the wolf caused pain and depression in the past. I won't do that again.

I am the product of seven to eight years of mental, emotional trauma, abuse, and neglect. My choice was survive or die. My Therianthrope identity is partially an unconscious defense mechanism. But I think the wolf was always within me, lurking, waiting to escape. The depression and suicidal thoughts altered the function and wiring of my brain, making a way for the wolf to come out.

The wolf is what survived. There is some human remaining. Enough for me to function as human. I am the product of needing a family, a role model, and only finding the spirit of a dead pet wolf-dog to comfort me. I looked up to wolves and other canines. I wanted the family structure that they had. In a way, I am the product of imprinting on wolves during my vulnerable teenage years because most of the humans around me were poor examples.

I am a survivor. I am the product of survival instinct clawing and gnashing its way out of a human body in the form of a wolf as I pressed the blade to my skin and drew blood. I hoped that I wouldn't wake up every morning for seven to eight long, hellish years. But I did wake up. And I called the instinct of perseverance, Wolf. I called the determination and stubbornness, Wolf. Wolf is what rose to the challenge during the bad years of my life. Wolf is permanent.

I am both a spiritual and psychological Therian. I mentioned before that I think wolf had always been within me. I do believe that I have been a wolf in a past life as well. The soul within me has always been wolf. But I probably would not have awakened in this life if not for the need to survive. If not, the wolf within would have been content to remain dormant. Or maybe it would have come out anyway. The possibilities are many, but I don't concern myself with the what-ifs. I just know what has occurred and what is.

I am the product of being raised Christian. Of feeling guilt at a young age when I had done nothing wrong. I am the product of being hollowed out by that guilt, fear, depression, and other negative emotions that haunted me. What filled the hollowed core of my being was wild and primitive. It thrashed and bared its teeth and growled at the feelings that caged me. The wolf defied those things. Stood up to them, and told them that they would not be my masters. Wolf had no written rules or laws. Only the laws of nature. Christianity would no longer shackle me.

My mind, heart, and soul required fresh air, and the space to run free. Becoming wolf offered me the chance. Actually, a second chance at life. Becoming wolf gave me the strength and fortitude to face each day. Wolves and other wild animals don't wish and hope for death. Their instincts make them do everything necessary to avoid death. I am wolf now. I fought back chronic depression and suicidal thoughts for years without resting. Wolf won. Wolf Survived.

I am human because of the wolf. And wolf because I am human. They are one and the same. One cannot be or exist without the other. I am the result of needing to accept the duality of being human. There is an animal inside. I had to get to know that animal-side better to keep living.

Wolf Daughter
September 10, 2016

ulfrvif: Stylized, Nordic wolf head. (Default)
 I've come to feel as if my therianthropy is both spiritual and psychological. This is my story, recently written. Feel free to ask questions and leave comments.

I was once a normal, happy, ignorant human child. Youth is shed painfully. Certainly in my case. My first hard lesson came at the age of nine. I tried to show care, concern, and love for a puppy. My mother scolded me and told me not to cry. She said that if I ever cried like that again, she would take that dog away from me. Those words crushed my soul. They killed any true happiness or love in me.

Why get attached to another being if showing any emotional connection to it will result in someone ripping it away from me? I would never have the ability to properly form attachments, make friends, or truly know love. Sure, I have a mate, but to this very day I sometimes question my feelings. I question their authenticity. Are they real? Are they true? I try not to question too much or think of it too often. But mimicry is a major tool for survival. Do I mimic the actions of one in a loving relationship? I don't have the answer.

Even if I can express emotions better after several years of healing, I'm still afraid that my attachments might not be healthy ones. But again, thinking too much only makes it worse.

I suffered depression for months after being told to bottle up my emotions. I suffer to this day. Next my humanity was slowly, agonizingly chipped away. The hell created by my parents went on for seven or eight long years. It continued long after they divorced. Every day of those years was filled with my parents fighting and arguing. I was surrounded by verbal, physical, and emotional abuse. During those years, I think my father asked me once if I was okay. Every night I thought of ending my life. My parents taught me, for the second time, that love did not exist. It was fake. Only anger, hate, distrust, and disappointment are true emotions.

I was broken. I did not allow myself to give in to any emotions. Except when they escaped in rare uncontrollable outbursts. Those outbursts drew too much attention and landed me in more trouble. So, I pushed emotions down deeper into darker corners of my mind. I had no relationships in high school. I trusted no one. I was as anxious and wary as a caged animal as I sat in classrooms. I was a tormented beast that wanted out of my own mind and body.

After one outburst, I was sent to the high school's councilor. I spoke with her three or four times. Then, my mother found out. My mother said that I had no right to talk to other people about her and my father's private problems and private lives. I also took it as being reprimanded again for having emotions and for seeking help with them because they were becoming darker and more destructive. I stopped visiting the councilor. To feel only brought me scorn.

How does a teenager survive all of this? How did I think of suicide every night and day for years and not attempt the the act? How did I wake up and walk through another day filled with depression, self-loathing, anger, and hate? I also had no relationships simply to protect anyone I thought I cared about. I kept them at a distance to protect them from the damning darkness that seethed inside of me. I was worthless. I knew I was incapable of caring or truly loving another person. Why even try? Love was a joke. My parents taught me well. Love did not exist.

Why didn't I give up, with nothing good to live for? Humans are animals. They have basic survival instincts. They just don't admit to being so base. I had nothing else. Without emotion and higher feelings, I became a beast.

That puppy which my mother had told me not to cry over had been a wolf-dog. By forcing us apart my mother brought us together in a way that she could never have imagined. By separating us, my mother actually made that wolf-dog my only reason to exist. Somewhere deep down inside my sick mind, I latched onto the idea that the wolf-dog was my pack and only true family. Even after his mysterious death at only two years of age, I felt as if he was the only one who had ever cared for me. He had been my brother and mentor. That wolf-dog taught me everything I know. A wolf-dog saved this wretched human and with his help, through hell's fire, this soul and mind have been forged into those of a wolf. A beast of survival.

Every day I thought about suicide was a day of perseverance. The wolf in me knew that the famine wouldn't last forever. Every day was just about blending in, acting as normal as possible so no one got suspicious and asked questions. I tried to hide the chaos inside. It was chaotic suppressing emotions while becoming less human and more wolf with each passing day. Again, I protected those around me from this chaos by keeping them at a distance, even pushing them coldly away. But I was surviving. My human brain struggled against the beast growing and taking over. Buy my spirit was beginning to shine through the darkness.

Here, I will throw in another facet of this experience and transformation. In the beginning, I had called myself a Christian. I feared God. I feared being damned and going to hell. It's what led me to hate myself. I was born a sinner. I thought I had read somewhere that children of divorced parents were damned and sent to hell. So, my life was hopeless. My soul was irredeemable. Why was I trying? Why not kill myself since I was damned anyway?

But wolf doesn't think that way. Wolf survives. Wolf does not need to be saved by anyone. I came to realize that there was no Jesus or God. No one was going to save me. Only I could help and save myself. If anyone is responsible for helping to save me, it was, of course, a wolf-dog. Discarding the concept that I was predestined to spend an eternity in hell for my parents' decisions started a reaction that has slowly dissolved a lot of pain. That also led to the wolf being a more free, confident, and powerful being.

The wolf within me was actually the light in the darkness. I saw my physical human form as ugly. I was not desirable. I was weak and sickly. Stress and depression ravage the body and can cause long-term health problems. Through the years, I went to several doctors. Each doctor gave a different diagnosis. Mononucleosis. Irritable bowel syndrome. I could be doubled over from the pain of ovarian cysts. I was anemic and had no energy. A weak wolf does not survive, but the wolf in me was strong and beautiful. I never turned to smoking, alcohol, or drugs during those challenging years of my life. The wolf within forced me to make healthier choices. I began to eat better food and exercise. I got stronger to survive. To this day, not being active enough and eating poorly causes IBS and cyst flare ups. But I manage them.

I still struggle with emotions. But wolves are emotional beings. Wolves are pack animals. They form bonds with others. I am still wary of other humans and don't really trust anyone. Other than my mate, I still don't have any friends. I still just go through my days trying to blend in and look normal. Being a wolf is what makes me a decent human being. Believe it or not, canines and other creatures have systems of morality and fairness. If not for becoming a wolf, the hateful person that I had been would have started to hurt herself and others on purpose.

Believe it or not, my mind is not so sick anymore. I said I still suffer from depression, but I attribute that to being human. I've never taken any medication for depression. I see it like the waves of the ocean. They come and go. Depression rises up and falls down on a regular basis. I'm learning to manage depression along with my other health problems. Being mindful is the key. I am much better off as a wolf that I ever was as only a human. I hated myself enough over the years. I don't hate myself now. I am content with being this beast. This wolf is content with being a survivor instead of a suicide.

Addition:
My parents actually have a good friendship after being divorced for a few years, and I have a fairly good relationship with them.

Wolf Daughter
December 12, 2015

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