Ever since I was 12 years old or even younger, I never felt like I had a good control on my emotions. I don't know if others saw it? I worked hard to be non-emotional, not sad or elated, just angry. I could get away with that one it seemed. Tough girl. The tough chick that let nothing get to her. I had your back. I was the girl to go to in a fight. But inside me was such darkness. I didn't know it was pain. I didn't know my anger was in fact fury to cover the pain. I just pushed it all down and started being really strong. Really funny, really tough, but sometimes also very mean and nasty.
I know I'm a bitch, but only sometimes. Only on really bad stupid human days.
At 12, my parents separated. (I am leaving that as a sentence on its own as with all kids, it's pivotal and I will make that its own write up one day).
Don't forget your kids. YOU got divorced. You've uprooted their entire world. You did that, to them.
I believe it wasn't long after that my parent’s separation my first doctor tried to put me on a mood stabilizing drug, to help with my temper. That was the early 80s. They were new. My Dad wouldn't sign off so I never did take them but there was a doctor saying, "Whoa, this kid, she’s not happy".
I was about 13 when I went to see a shrink about my parents and THEIR divorce. They had already done a psyche and IQ test. The report basically said my Dad shouldn't worry about my brother, even with his dyslexia. I was the problem. I was an open wound. It was a great concern how I was so emotionally immature and insecure. My brother would be fine, I would be a mess. The shrink basically said, "You're fucked with who you are, and who your parents are, but you’re really smart so go get a job in a creative field as per the tests and hope for the best". It was a slap in the face really. To me it was, "You're on your own, don’t rely on those you love so desperately". I left in tears. I went home, locked myself in a closet and I cut. And I starved. This was the first time the rage really scared me. I was so concerned about life that rage covered the fear and I didn't feel I could control it. I felt nothing but fury. I cut and starved to try to get a handle on ANYTHING in my life, to have some control and to feel anything but rage.
As time went by I always knew deep down that I was depressed, I knew I suffered from depression. I just refused to admit it. When I was 16 and the first boy I had sex with barely paid attention to me afterward, I cut myself and changed my eating habits. When a friend asked if she could go out with him not long after losing my virginity I say “hell sure”, I am tough, I can take that. I cut myself for not having the courage enough to stand up for myself and say, "that's not right, how could you, how would you feel?" And I cut, and cut. I binged and I starved. I was more worried about the rage surrounding all of my feelings. I didn't quite realize it was "depression" per say, I just knew it wasn't “normal”.
I often found myself in the dark in my room. Just sitting in the darkness loathing myself, my parents, everything really. I liked being in the dark. Hiding in closets was my thing. I did it when my parents used to fight. I hid from my brother in fun and sometimes cause I made him mad. And I hid when I thought a hand would be raised at me. I asked my husband once if as a kid he hid in closets. He said, "As in hide and seek?" I said, "No, like hours at a time, playing in the dark, hiding from people?" I got a big hug for that sad state of affairs.
I thought for years it was just my life, the circumstances of life that made me what I was. Who I was, what I felt. The perceivable snowball was me. Life’s problems started and ended with me. I was the “problem”.
It wasn't long after I turned 16 that I grabbed my freedom, escaped from my Mother’s and ran to my Father’s “freedom” house. He was hardly home. I was defiant, I did what I wanted. It was awesome. Barely a rule was made, let alone broken. He didn’t know what to do with me and I was so guilty for leaving my Mother and angry at my Dad, I was basically fury in a ball and I was left alone to do whatever 16 year old kids do with no parental guidance, everything I wanted! You know what no parental guidance means in the head of a child, no love.
You have to know this as a parent, you just have to. Life doesn't have to be that hard.
The party ended just before I turned 18 and I was informed there wasn't any money anymore in our family. We had gone from fairly wealthy to poor and I needed to get a job! So, I got a job. Downtown on Bay Street. It was exciting, fast paced, full of ego and greed, and I loved it. I didn’t have time to be sad. Suddenly my dark mood fit right in. My temper was welcomed. In fact it was hysterical to the “boys”. I flourished. I fought with people, stood up for myself, moved fast and in no time I had moved out on my own, had my very first place.
It didn’t take long before I realized I was really good at this career, this Bay Street thing. I never graduated from High School. Who cared! Suddenly I was taking industry courses, and passing! Not just passing but honor roles! I was thriving in this field. So much for that “creative” bullshit those doctors all told me about. I was a machine in this business. A machine.
I have to say, much of my life is in snippet form of memories, no smooth full memories. No full stories. Just don't have them. There was too much trauma so they cut short when trauma occurs. If the timeline is off, it’s because I truly don’t recall.
My first job on Bay Street was downtown counting paper bonds, corporate debentures, government bonds etc. And having them delivered in return for cash. I remember loving it, how good I was at it in particular. But there were no girls. Just guys, and me. It was on this job I threw a guy against a wall and threatened him when he came on to me for the too many umpteenth time. Oops, my bad! I took another job inside the firm to get away from the creep. I saw how it was going to be. A man’s world where NO ONE HAS YOUR BACK. I got this, this is how I would live my life. Alone. Have my own back.
Okay do a little harm and take no shit.
My next job was in a small branch office working for 5 Investment Advisers, all men at the same firm. Again, all men. There were 3 women in the office, all secretaries/assistants. One I worked at the same level with, and a Branch Manager’s assistant, our boss. One weekend I was raped. (Just throwing that out there, details unnecessary). When I called in to take time off, nope, wasn't gonna happen. When I told the branch assistant on arrival to work what had happened. Nope, wasn't gonna happen, no time off. NO ONE HAS YOUR BACK girl, no one, not even another woman. NO ONE.
It was around this time I was so addicted to diet pills and controlling my food intake that I was headed for a brain MRI for constant horrible headaches. It was then, a doctor asked a simple question, “What did you last eat?” My response, “when, today?” It was 5pm, I had eaten nothing. I knew in that moment I needed help, again.
This was when I chose, the responsible grown up me, my first of many therapists. I told no one in my family, I just went. They knew I had anger issues they just didn’t know how deep it actually went. How dark I was in my head, in my soul. It wasn’t always so but when it was triggered by whatever life circumstance, or sometimes for no reason at all, it was dark. My family also had a pretty good idea I wasn’t eating but they didn’t seem too concerned about it. I think they were proud I was thin.
The therapist I chose was a woman. She was okay, just okay. She wasn't as smart as I was and I had a problem with that. I knew what my issues were, "just fix them". I was about 19 at the time. I couldn't figure out why I had so much rage about being raped, about “allowing it”. I didn't think I deserved it but I most certainly could have avoided it. I didn't need to be in my house, THAT drunk, with practical strangers. I wanted to kill them both. The guy who allowed it, and the guy that did it. I wanted my friend to hurt for being there and not knowing it was happening to me. For not having my back. I wanted to hurt my family for not being the kind of family I could tell about it. And my therapist, had nothing to help me. No coping skills, no nothing. I hated her too. We didn't last long. NO ONE HAD MY BACK.
Many woman suffer through something like rape and it’s horrible. It’s different for every person, how they feel, react. I was rage, just plain and simple rage. I didn’t feel I did “much” wrong, didn’t do “much” to deserve it, but fuck was I mad.
Just keep going, you can do it. Life keeps going, so can you.
Life went on all around me as life does. People were loved, hearts were broken. Hearts were given again, broken. Families got better, and family parts got worse. Work got more and more intense but it was obvious I was in a man's world and as a woman, NO ONE HAD MY BACK. I had to have it. No one was going to offer me shit for hard work, I had to demand it. No one was going to give me respect, I had to demand it. In that business respect isn’t really earned, it’s demanded if you want it.
These are all life issues. And EVERYONE has them. Some are bad yes, yes they are. I don't mean to be dark but I need you to understand if you feel dark sometimes? So did I. I can relate, it can change. What was lost on me, why the rage? It was ridiculously strong. It had a hold of my life. If I was in a bad mood and went grocery shopping, sometimes I just had to leave my cart in the middle of the store and leave. I couldn’t handle the social setting, the stress of groceries. I couldn’t handle a little old lady in the middle of the aisle trying to reach something thus blocking my way. So much so I had to leave the store! Drop everything, leave the cart and get out of the store. All I could think of was throwing something at her. I threw stuff at boyfriends. I once threw a can of apple juice at my brother's head lodging it in the wall of our house. I was angry. Very very angry. But in cycles. PMS was atrocious. People would say, “Oh I have awful PMS” and all I could think was “you want to kill someone too?” Sometimes, my environment or nothing at all could trigger a mood that was so bad it could last for weeks.
Once the anger got too much, I would shut off and everything sucked. I sucked, you sucked, they sucked, the job sucked, my apartment sucked, the boyfriend sucked. Nothing was good enough. Everything had to change. And change it all I would. I would change it all in hopes and prayers that I would find happiness in change. I didn't, I found excitement. Excitement triggers what in the brain? Endorphins. The stress reactors to go off and take over the brain. No longer was I anger covering sadness, I was on high alert. I was high, I was manic. Now I needed booze to shut off, to come down. There was too much going on in my head all at once. New apartment, new job, new men, new me. And a vicious circle of getting drunk then a hangover and badly depressed began. Just keep drinking girl, don't stop that shit. Control your food, not the booze. Not the cigarettes, not your mood, just food. See I would go days barely eating then binge my face off. Never did I put the links together of food and my mind. Two different things I thought foolishly.
It didn’t take long at any job I was at for me to achieve all I could and be miserable. And I was so miserable that people I thought I could trust, people whom I thought cared about me would say things like, “if you hate it so much, leave”. Or, “you need to snap out of whatever this is, you are making everyone else miserable”. It was never, “Do you need help?” I heard more, “Fuck you’re a miserable bitch, good thing you are good at your job”, than a person should ever hear.
Men. Ahhhh men. I always knew how to pick ‘em. If they didn’t cheat, they treated me like shit. Or both. Somehow in life, I thought I earned those titles, so I took it, and kept on taking it. What was just as wrong though was how I reacted to their behaviour and in turn treated them. Their behaviour 9 times out of 10 might be accepted in my brain and dealt with normally but that one time, that one time the bi polar would kick in and….it wasn’t nice. I would mentally torture them. Follow them to prove their cheating only to stay and be cheated on and now lied to. I would play mind games pretending perhaps I was cheating. “See how you like it, jealous much?” Maybe you’ve done all this and see it as normal, I do not. I know better. But when in that mind frame, lost in bi polar pain and obsessive compulsive behaviour, you could break up with me and I would be in your bed same day. It’s almost like I didn’t hear it, didn’t see what happened.
One of these men. A serial cheater. I also happened to work with. Man, the things he did and the things I did to find out what he was up too. Awful and I kept going back to him. It was during this time I began looking for another therapist. The therapists came in waves of bi polar depression, which usually came with weight, or loss of the same in times of mania. One therapist would sit at her desk, listen and print off pages for me to read as she listened. No notes, just print after print for me to go home and read. Even the Stuart Smalley shit. “Look in the mirror and tell yourself you love yourself 3 times”. The last time I saw her, my last appointment, she hit that damn print button one too many times. I was in a low curve and raging so of course I threatened her. I told her if she printed one more page while she was supposed to be listening and helping me I would take the printer and shove it so far up her ass the print jobs would come out her mouth. This kind of lashing out was not uncommon behaviour for me by now. I was in my mid to late 20s. Life at work was chaos, my boyfriend or lack thereof a complete controlling cheating ass, and I was starving myself and drinking my way to a need for rehab. I left there that day determined to never again need a therapist, they don’t have your back. They are idiots I thought. Print print print. Whatever. NO ONE HAS YOUR BACK. About a year later I remember hearing she died and thinking, “Shit, I hope I wasn’t part of her obvious dark side leading to this!” She had taken her newborn and jumped in front of a TTC subway train. The baby lived. She did not. Poor girl.
The next therapist I got was to help with this guy I was now losing to another girl (which I couldn’t see as the blessing it was). I was barely speaking to my parents, especially my mother. I was making hand over fist money and look see here I am again, miserable. I went out only to drink otherwise I binge ate in the dark. Good times. This woman was lovely and great, and worked a lot with children who came from divorce and had issues with abandonment. It worked for us for some time. I worked with her until the mania came back. I started dating, sleeping around, a lot, drinking and socializing. Who needed therapy now? Not I. This was happy behaviour wasn’t it? All this socializing and being with boys? I needed no therapy.
Yes, I did. It didn’t end there, come on now. Don’t be silly.
I was making a serious name for myself downtown on Bay Street. I went to a career counsellor because the money didn’t seem to make me really like my job. He explained my job was a toxic wasteland and I either had to leave, and go do something creative according to my tests, OR, demand more money and more respect. When I told him the things that went on in our office he told me to quit. And I did. Finally. I stood up for myself. Of course, everyone freaked, everyone rallied. My bonuses were from various departments and when one department saw an increase from another department they would decrease their submission so I didn’t get a raise in bonus when everyone else did. I stopped that immediately. That had to stop. That meant I wasn’t good enough or important enough didn’t it? Had to be stopped for me to be important. Of course, no one knew it was happening but me and the person doing it to me but I am sure it somehow meant I wasn’t worthy. I got a raise too! And I got to tell the guy I worked directly alongside that I kept on the straight and narrow “that if he spoke to me through his clenched teeth again, like my Mother did when she was mad at my Dad, I would knock his teeth clean out of his fucking mouth”. And I lasted exactly 3 more years to the day almost. Exactly what I agreed to in the new letter of employment I signed that day looking for happiness. I never found it, I just got pretty rich for three years.
Once I received all I demanded and the career counsellor didn’t see any happiness improvement he suggested I see an eating disorder specialist. Their work always involves low self-esteem and struggles that come with that. He could clearly see that in me and he had already figured I had problems with food. He knew the new contract he helped me get wasn’t going to fix anything long term. I needed more than he could possibly help me with. He said reading my first career counselling assignment essay about myself was one of the most heart wrenching stories he’d ever read.
And this is where I met the lady that changed my life. Was she as smart as me? Nope. Did she have all the answers? Nope. Did she let me just walk away from my full life and mope? Yep. She did all that and more. Including consulting with my family doctor to determine if I didn’t go on short term sick leave, (followed by long term) that I might hurt myself or someone else. She helped the psychiatrists determine what drugs to start testing me on. She helped me GET long term disability. She helped me get multiple tests and assessments done ranging from insurance specialists to CAMH (Center for Addiction and Mental Health). All of which under the guidance of her title of Eating Disorder Psychotherapist. She helped me see, I had some pretty big issues and got the doctors I needed to determine what was actually going on with me. It was decided I was bi polar with a severe eating disorder, OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) and my rage was all a cover up for some very sad thoughts, about life and myself. She got me to admit to all of this. In turn this made me a better spouse and a better step mother by recognizing my limitations due to my disease but also when the rage came what it was actually there for. Knowing why you are angry makes anger ease off awfully quick. Not understanding it keeps it alive in you. She’s been the best therapist I could have asked for by quietly letting me come to terms with all of it on my own time, at my own pace while monitoring to make sure as it happened I didn’t go too dark and when I did she was in touch every other hour to make sure…..
Hi, my name is Nicolle Weir and I suffer with Bi Polar disorder which manifests itself in me in the following forms:
OCD when I am manic.
Binge eating and anorexia depending on the emotion. Binging when low, starving when high.
Anger Management issues due to severe depression.
Lack of impulse control in many forms specifically food, shopping, and reactions to emotional social situations with anger.
Panic attacks due to mania.
Sleep disorder (insomnia), no matter the high or low.
I am finally on medication that I feel happy on. I feel like me. Strong, funny, lovable. But they have their side effects. I am jittery and jittery makes me antsy and unable to find peace and quiet, so I eat, and eat again, and I don’t sleep. I do things, too many things which hurt an injured back repeatedly so I have to take medication for that which can change the effects of my other medications. But, I am finally happy. I have to see the light through the clouds. I need to get my vitamin D in the shade still! I must now see the positive in every situation. It’s my choice to do so.
I finally feel like I might stand a chance. The last couple of years, well, they haven't been great. I have some friends that have a hard time dealing with this, my reactionary behaviour before this medication. My bi polar reactionary behaviour. These friends ran amok with our friendship. In the past I would have just gotten mad and moved on but recently with this “see past the anger” I would vent, take it back, apologize, feel bad, react…..oh it was a train wreck. And when I reacted poorly I was left, just basically left. Neither friend truly realize both times, at the darkest moments of these times with them, I was almost checked into hospital for fear of suicide. I couldn’t pull myself out of the dark place and once the rage was let go the darkness was nothing but a sadness. I couldn’t imagine coming out of this all-consuming sadness surrounding them and our friendships.
I cared too much about people who didn't care enough back. Don't stop caring but care about yourself the most. Others come next. Then you will make the smart choices.
The worst part of the lows is actually coming out of them.
When I came out, and saw daylight, I would want to end life there, right then and there. I found a happy minute, “go now” I would think. And I would stop myself of course. Otherwise I “wouldn’t be here talking to you fine folks” (little Titanic line).
That's a hard journey to take alongside this journey of mine but what I am left with is a wonderful group of amazing people in my life.
And now, even today on this medication I think, I am happy but this jitteriness, I can’t get rid of, maybe I am not meant to be happy. I force myself to think, yes I am. I am meant to be happy. I was meant to be smart, and funny, happy and beautiful. I was meant to be here and be a great wife, a best friend, and the best step mom alive because I have been through it all and I am still here. If nothing else is accomplished today, I am still here.
You can do this. It's just life.
So when you think you’ve had enough, you’re worth nothing, remember this, you made it to right now. Try staying in that now and that now becomes the next now and the next now and suddenly its tomorrow. And what is, only is, what it is, while it is. And then it’s not.
We can do this, this life thing. We can. You and me. Let’s do this together shall we?
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