Depression Stories

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!

By The Nutrition Punk

I am a dietitian living in Portland, Oregon. I write about a variety of nutrition and heath topics, with the goal of improving people's understanding of food and nutrition so they may be empowered against all the misinformation that is out there.

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