Giving Up by Amigreat

The final story before my epilogue comes from spring term of 2015.  This is a case where the bigger they are, the harder they fall.  Now, coming from winter term, I had gotten a 4.0.  A fucking 4.0.  In college.  Not to mention, I was taking organic chemistry.  Organic.  Fucking.  Chemistry.  So, I think it is safe to say I was hot shit.  However, like actual high-temperature fecal materials, shit’s still shit.  I got knocked down a couple pegs the next term.

In an attempt to make my resume look better, I decided to try my hand at computer science.  Little did I know at the time, but this would probably be one of the biggest errors I would make in college.  Now, like my many other youthful peers, I have done dumb shit like procrastinate on a project until last minute, or forget about due dates or whatever.  Hell, I even done social faux pas that probably made me some enemies (I mean, I swear like a sailor, and can talk about controversial topics, like religion and politics, in a controversial manner, so don’t h8 m8).  I have not made mistakes that resulted in police action though, so there’s a plus.  My mistake was trying to educate myself in another field.  Go figure, that I get in trouble for trying to better myself, and others get in trouble for having weed and alcohol underage.

So what was so bad about computer science?  Well, for starters, since I had ZERO experience with coding, I sucked at trying to learn C++.  Congrats to those of you who can code a billion lines of code and get something cool to happen, I can barely code to get the computer to say “you fucking suck at coding, motherfucker.”  Secondly, the professor and teaching assistants I found less than helpful.  I tried my best, and yet there was a lack of understanding.  When I approached them for help, they gave a “this is easy” vibe, when I was struggling.  Fortunately, I was able to get the class on a pass/fail grading system, since I did not need it for my major.  For the first time in my entire educational career, I failed a class.

So, what did I learn?  Well, this class knocked me flat on my ass in a one-hit KO.  I learned to be humbler.  I also learned that human health is really my domain, and I should stay there.  I am all for branching out and trying new things (I mean, I am minoring in writing), but know your limits as well.  I went through this Hell, and I emerged relatively unscathed.  Sure, I had pissed away some money for the class, but the only thing that really got damaged was my pride.  I still made Honor Roll, because I did well enough in my other classes.  But damn, did this pull my head out of my ass.

Hurt by Mine Inch Fails

Somehow, my nutrition blog became more about me bitching about my depression.  Eventually, I plan on getting back into talking about food things, but for now I am chronicling my experiences.  Hopefully they help someone down the line.

So, if my life were a standup comedian, it would be Jerry Seinfeld.  Because the joke would be “what’s the deal with freshman year?” and people would laugh and that line alone would become a meme.  My freshman year of college was pretty much the worst I hope my life becomes, because I pretty much lost everything I had.

Starting off with fall term, I had “lost” my friends.  I mean, I was still friends with them, and I still communicated with them a lot, but I lacked that physical contact with everyone.  The loneliness was real, and really hurt.

Winter term was when things took a nose dive.  I had too much debt, and it was looking like I would have to drop out at this point.  I took on another job, so I was working two part time jobs.  The second job was so stressful that I started to have problems with my heart.  My relationship started to deteriorate at this point as well (if my ex is reading this, no hard feelings, but it just didn’t work out.  Long distance relationships tend to do that).  My roommate started to be more inconsiderate as well, since he was playing video games until the wee hours of the morning, despite me telling him to be quiet.  So, by this point, I had lost my mind, my health, my money, began losing my relationship.  I only had two things to lose at this point.  My grades, and my life.

Sometime during winter term, someone had jumped from the parking structure, and died.  This had happened probably in the building right next to my dorms.  I remember seeing cops in the area, and I had no idea of the grim reality that had happened there.  This was a wakeup call for me, since I saw myself heading down that path.  I had struggled with myself for a while, because seeing what the poor guy went through woke some demons up in me.  The amount of empathy I had increased thirty fold, and for the next few weeks, I was emotionally in pain.  Because of this, I took steps to bettering myself.  I decided to reduce my workload, and I quit my second job, because they treated the student workers like shit.  I took fewer credits, to focus more on myself as well.

Spring is a time of renewal.  Coming back from spring break was a fresh start for me.  I started to hang out with some of the people I met in my dorm (if any of you are reading this, you are pretty fucking awesome in my book.  Except for “that guy.”  Yeah, you asshole, you damn well know who you are.  You suck.) so I wasn’t so lonely.  My now-ex and I called it off.  It was a pretty clean break that probably should have happened sooner.  While my problems with the roommate persisted, I was at the point that I was like “fuck it, the year will be over soon enough.”

And sure enough, it was over soon enough.  Somehow I had gone through Hell, and survived.

The lesson here that I have to teach is that it gets better.  If you feel like harming yourself, or committing suicide, I please, please, PLEASE urge you to get help.  There is always help.  One of my regrets was not getting that help at all, so I suffered where I probably should not have.

And again, like with the last post, I want to thank the people who spent time with me during my freshman year.  I know I am a sarcastic asshole who doesn’t show as much appreciation as I probably should, but I am now taking the time to thank you for being there for someone in need.

The End is the Beginning is my End by Smashing Punk-ins

First of all, that was a horrible pun, and I should be ashamed.  Secondly, the story of the week.  Senior year of high school was really weird for me.  I wasn’t depressed as much as stressed the fuck out.  All the advanced placement classes took their toll on me, and my mood soured.  I started to get really irritated with things.  For me, the senioritis (which, really is a stupid fucking name when you learn human pathology.  The suffix –itis means an inflammation, which means that everyone during their final year of schooling gets inflamed?  I motion we start calling it “seniorosis,” which means a condition of being a senior, but I digress) really hit around halfway through the year.  I really began dreading going to school.  I liked the people I associated with (after taking all my general credits, the people I was in class with were more like me, so we got along better), and I liked my teachers for the most part (some of them really supported me on my way into the path I follow now).  I just didn’t like the environment.

I know that a lot of people thought I was going to be a serial killer.  I went with it, because the joke was funny to me.  I mean, I am an angry white man who listens to too much heavy metal and plays violent video games that glorify violence against everyone.  For anyone who played Grand Theft Auto V, Trevor retroactively became my spirit animal.  I acted a lot like him, with less male pattern balding.  I suppose now that I have matured since then, people have been able to see my teddy bear side.  God damn it.  Since I was already painted in a sort-of negative light, I stopped giving any fucks.  Whatever image people had of me, I was like “pfft, fuck that.  Imma do this cuz it’s funny!”  And I had fun, surprisingly.  Sure, I had problems with stress and procrastination, but senior year was when things were getting fun.  Freshman year was dictated by depression, my sophomore year I had bad acne that had to have medical intervention, with pills that basically turned my blood toxic for the next year.  Junior year I was trying to recover from all that had happened prior.

So, basically, I survived high school, but barely.  The take-away lesson here is do whatever you want, and let peoples’ judgments have little impact on life.  I mean, if what you are doing is illegal, maybe not do that?  I don’t want some wacko quoting my stupid blog saying that I okayed them to murder someone.

I also want to take the time to thank those of you who talked with me in high school, through thick, thin, somewhere in between or whatever!  It is appreciated!

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.

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.

My stupid dumb video

What happens when your nutrition class requires you to make a video?  This dumbass makes one, of course.  I might be stupid, but at least I do my fucking work.

Here is the link to my abomination of cinematic disasterpieces.

Mah stoopid vidyoh (opens in a new tab)