I Did my T”I”me – By BoRn

Probably the next major depressive incident that I remember happening to me was when I was a freshman in high school.  Over the summer, my sister had been diagnosed with prediabetes.  We started to eat a much lower carbohydrate diet so as to reduce the amount of glucose, but still maintain energy levels, as recommended by our pediatrician.

As the year began to grow darker and gloomier, so did my emotions.  I was not sure what was going on inside me, so I continued to get worse for a couple months.  I am pretty logical, so the idea that my emotions were going haywire was foreign to me.

Eventually I broke down.  I spent a couple hours in tears, with my parents trying there damnedest to comfort me.  As a side note, if someone says it’s not right for a man to cry, do them a favor and bash their teeth in with a brick.  This kind of backwards-assed thinking causes so many problems for both men and women.  Fuck the double standard.

Fortunately enough, I was able to see a doctor the next day.  I told her everything I had felt.  I was prescribed dark chocolate.  Fucking.  Dark.  Chocolate.  People wish that was there prescription, and now that is what I was given.  And it worked, based on the fact I need more carbohydrates, and chocolate has mood boosting properties.  Somehow, all the happiness I had missed out on for months came flooding back over the next few days.

Later on, we had to do a project for a class in which we researched careers we might be interested in.  I had always liked human biology, and I liked cooking.  On a test, I found I scored high in the nutritionist/dietitian category.  I read the description, and thought to myself “damn, this shit is dope.”  To this day, I still think medical nutrition therapy is fucking awesome (despite the fact that I have yet to take the class).

After my recovery, I started to figure out who I was more.  I stopped trying to appeal to people, because most of them I interacted with were irrelevant assholes anyway.  I started to wear and do what I liked, instead of what other people thought were cool or hip.  My denim jacket I got from my grandfather became sort of a symbol of my liberation from societal expectations of me.  I started to become more punk, in the sense that I went against norms.  And I loved, and still love, going against the norms that make life shitty for everyone.

Moral of the story:  There is a silver lining for everything.  From the deep dark pits that was my own mind, I figured out who I was, and what my future was going to be, and nobody was going to take that from me.

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Yet another stupid self promotion BS post

Boring not-very-fun-at-all fact:  I have a Twitter account and an LinkedIn profile!  My Twitter is @Nutrition_Punk, and my LinkedIn is Jarrett Knodel.  I do not do much with my LinkedIn account, but periodically I will update it with noteworthy things I have done.  My Twitter account is where I post general nutrition information (since I cannot legally give advice, and I sure as hell am not going to prescribe diets without a licence), as well as other articles that other food and nutrition people have posted.

The Long Hard Road Out of Hell – by Mar”I”lyn “ME”son

This is going to be a deviation from the nutrition stuff I normally post.  I am not going to use pictures, and I will try to keep it brief.  I will also try to be funny, because I know that depression is a… uhm… depressing issue.  More or less I am going to try to recount some of my bigger issues that happened during my depression spells that have come and gone over the years.  There are going to be a LOT of posts.  Abandon hope, ye who enter in.

I remember being diagnosed with depression when I was in fourth grade.  I was about ten at the time, when some asshole came up to me, and beat the shit out of my pathetic little child body.  That asshole is named “Puberty,” and can go fuck itself.  I am pretty sure that once my hormones went crazy, I did too.  I remember a lot of mood swings.  Like, A LOT.  How my parents put up with me, I have no idea.

I had problems of self-worth and I felt like I was hated in my class.  That’s the thing with depression, is that you do not think rationally.  I mean, granted I was some overly emotional fuckwad, but looking back nobody really hated me that I know of.  I was able to get out of school because I was not feeling well, so I guess that is a plus.  Eventually, I went to counselling, to workout whatever problems I had.  It seemed to help somewhat.  I wasn’t put on medication, but I was able to work out some familial issues, and see more of why I shouldn’t put so much of my self-worth on my classmate’s approval.  It seems that lesson also worked out pretty well in the long run, since I am a no-fucks-given asshole who listens to too much metal (like there is a thing as that), and is an academic powerhouse when compared to some of my peers in grade school.

Sorry THIS story is so brief, but give me SOME credit, I am remembering details from eleven years ago.  I mean, shit, I can hardly remember things that happened last week.  They should get more detailed, and probably longer, as time goes on.  And also more relevant to nutrition.  So for now, I guess this is more of a wellness promotion.

I guess the moral of the story here is society needs to stop being dumb with the connotation of mental health.  If you need assistance, ask for it.  If people ridicule you for it, then they are just assholes who need to get a life.  If your body is sick, you go to a doctor.  By that logic, if your mental state is sick, please, go to a psychological professional, like a therapist of psychologist or something.