Post Punk Kitchen Forum

I've felt like such a POS after getting diagnosed with cervical cancer. I've been dealing with depression for as long as I can remember, but that diagnosis really took the cake in terms of making me feel worthless. In the back of my head, I know it's manageable, but I hate knowing I have one of the worst kinds and it could go invasive at any point. They didn't even get it all during surgery, but I can't go in for another 2 months because I have to heal before they can do anything else. I read somewhere diet and exercise can really reduce the chance of it coming back so strong, but it's forked with my head so much that I don't want to get out of bed to make healthy food or exercise. My bad habits have gotten so much worse since knowing I have it that I'm sure I'm making it a lot worse. I have a bottle of Prozac in my cupboard and for some reason I'm not taking it. I have no idea why. I know I should, it might help, but I guess everything feels like such a lost cause at this point that there isn't any real reason to take it.

But remember, the "lost cause" sentiment is the depression talking. And I'd be willing to bet the only reason you're not taking your Prozac is because even the smallest of acts requires a lot of motivation when you're depressed. You might have to remind yourself several times--maybe write a note on the bathroom mirror?--I know it seems trite, but that's what I have to do when I fall out of the habit of taking pills (even my B12 supplement--it just doesn't occur to me if I haven't taken them in a while--until I start feeling the effects of their absence, and then I have a hard time remembering).

And you are not worthless--would you think this of someone else who was in your position? It's really easy to blame ourselves for any misfortunes, but in reality, shiitake happens and none of it diminishes your worth as a person.

I really wanted to say thank you for taking the time to write all that. It really takes someone pointing out to me what is real and what is depression to understand it. And you're totally right, it's a chore to even get up and take my meds, but I did it this morning and I'm hoping I can keep up with it. I feel so shitty tonight though, is this generally what happens when you start back on antidepressants? Just mentally blah, the whole I can't bring myself to read for class or get out of bed to make lunch for tomorrow, etc, etc. I know Prozac isn't a quick fix, tonight just blows.

I'm glad you were able to get up and take your meds, today--and yeah, this sounds exactly what it feels like when I start back up on meds--I think a lot has to do with reaching a point where you're long past needing the meds, and then having to consciously think about taking a pill kind of forces you to think about trying to get better, and you know how all that thinking works when you're depressed.;) But hang in there, because it will get better. It aways does--we just forget that when we're caught up in the mess.

I'm in the process of pulling myself out of another bad depression. I've had depression on and off since the age of 12 (with a history of it in both sides of my family). It was really first triggered when my parents moved my brother and I from England to America. That was one of the most difficult times I faced in my life because we were also homeless for 6 months before getting to the States, moving around from grandparents to family friends to hotels while we waited for our visas to be approved. During that time, I had to start school again, and was unfortunately paired with a girl that was at a lower learning level than me. Some of my teachers realized I needed higher class placements, but others didn't. I didn't make any friends, and I'd cry myself to sleep every night, wishing that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. By the time we moved to America, I had to start school in the middle of 7th grade and pretend that everything was ok because my dad was threatening to send me to a "self-esteem group."

My only coping mechanism was food, and I would binge all the time. Then I'd gain weight, and feel terrible because I didn't fit in at school. This developed into full-blown bulimia in my junior year of high school. Eventually I told my parents about it, and they found me a therapist, but she was awful! She accused me of being jealous of my mother and trying to ruin my relationship with my best friend (we had problems at that time that we weren't able to resolve). She also guilted into me into not purging, but I would still binge daily. Once she recommended meds, my parents and I both agreed it was time for me to stop seeing her. Fortunately, that summer, I had a really inspiring coach for health class in summer school, and I started to eat really healthy and get into running. I lost 40lbs and felt pretty awesome going into my senior year.

Then came college, and an emotionally abusive 2-year relationship where I gained 100lbs. I was clearly back to my depressed, bingeing ways! I would hide behind the fact that my partner enjoyed larger women. Somehow that would justify eating a whole pan of cinnamon rolls everyday. When that relationship finally ended, I moved back home with my parents, and with my mum's encouragement, I started to work out by using walking DVDs. My mum would even do them with me, and we really bonded. I also adopted a vegan diet, and over the course of two years, I lost that 100lbs.

Unfortunately, I ended up in a physically abusive 2-year relationship this time. I sure knew how to pick them! He was out of town most of the time, and I didn't want to admit I was depressed again, so I became obsessed with working out. I would write down all my calories every day and I never wanted to go out for dinner or drinks with my friends because I couldn't have an accurate calorie count for everything. I was pushing myself in a really intense workout program, and I finally became overwhelmed and couldn't finish the program. Stopping made me feel like a huge failure and I spiraled back into my bulimia. I hadn't purged since high school! And, to add insult to injury, the abusive boyfriend raped me, and wouldn't admit it. I ended the relationship 3 weeks after the rape (I was in denial too) and sought out a new therapist. She was so awesome! She was super respectful of me not wanting to take any medication, and she helped me work through the rape, my abandoment issues stemming from my childhood, my self-esteem issues, and my need to comfort eat. It took a year, but I was back on track and feeling really confident.

Fast-forward 7 months, and we're here. I've met and fallen in love with a wonderful guy, and we have our dream loft. I've found an amazing job so I'm working full-time again (after working only part-time for over a year). Everything just keeps falling into place, so life should be great, right? Wrong. I haven't exercised since October, and that was my number one way to manage my depression. I've been comfort eating instead of using all the coping techniques for stress management I learned in therapy. As a result, none of my clothes are fitting, so in my head, I keep telling myself I'm fat now. My boyfriend, whom I adore, is having an issue with sex that he's resolving on his own, but we've had sex maybe 5 times since October, the last time was over a month and a half ago. And even though I know he loves me and thinks I'm gorgeous, the lack of sex makes me think he finds me unattractive. So I turn to food again. And feel even worse about myself. And then my dream job decided to move to a new office last week, with only a couple of days notice, so my 15-minute commute has turned into 2 hours. I don't know how I didn't have a panic attack on our first day in the new office. I was on the verge of tears the whole day, and cried on my way home as I sat in traffic.

This is the lowest point I've been at in a couple of years, and I hate feeling so down on myself. I keep telling myself I have no reason to be depressed because in the grand scheme of things, life is pretty awesome. But that thought doesn't help at all. So, I'm taking it one day at a time and turning back to the things I know will help me feel better in the long run:

I've started taking a vegan Vitamin D supplement everyday, and I'm drinking green smoothies every morning for breakfast, loaded with flax seeds. I've heard both of those things can be helpful with depression. Yesterday I decided to start a workout program. I need to follow a calendar so I actually stick to it, and I know to be mindful of signs that I'm getting obsessed with it. I'm trying to stay on a schedule and avoid sugary snacks before bedtime so I can actually fall asleep and not wake up every couple of hours. I'm sticking to whole, unprocessed foods for snacks and lunch, and making sure to incorporate veggies into our more traditional, somewhat processed dinners. And most importantly, I'm talking to my boyfriend about how I feel, and making sure to ask for snuggles when I'm feeling extra crappy. I'm already feeling a lot more balanced than I was a week ago. I just have to remember to be kind to myself, especially with my thoughts. One day at a time.

fork. I really need someone to find me a decent therapist and make an appointment and then make me go, because I really really need to go. I'm stuck in this stupid Catch 22 where I need to see someone, but the anxiety and depression that I need to work on stop me from getting the help I need. Urgh.

I've been feeling down the last couple of days, more than usual that is. Today, I started crying out of a sudden. I did that yesterday too. My mum wants me to tell her what's wrong, but I don't know. Everything just feels so hard.

BluePlasticStraw, do you have a close friend or someone that you trust that can help you make that appointment? I didn't have that option, so I had to schedule that first appointment by myself. I hate using the phone, especially to talk to someone I don't know, but I forced myself to make that call, knowing that once I had, I wouldn't back out of the appointment. I was a nervous wreck between the call and the appointment, and I was barely able to keep from crying in the waiting room, but after that first session, I felt a little hope. It wasn't as nearly as scary as I made it out to be in my head. Will taking that first step and calling for an appointment make you go?

It's been an extremely rough few days. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff lately and I've lost too much weight and have to be monitored again. Ugh again. I feel like such a forking failure that I can't even manage to control myself. And I don't know how long recovery will take this time around.

It's in my doctor's hands now. I just...have to get through this. If I get through this, I can go back to being vegan, I can go back to controlling my own life, and maybe I can go back to be forking happy for ten whole minutes.

I just...I feel defeated.

I've been on the generic of prozac for a couple months now, and while I do feel it's helping to some extent I still am yet to have a day where I truly feel like I can deal with the day like normal people. I wake up every morning with my inner voice telling myself how much I suck, how ugly and fat and awful I am at everything. About an hour after I take my medication I usually feel alright and i have spurts throughout the day where I feel happy, but it's so fleeting. Here I am now feeling like I can't control anything. I just feel like theirs a cloud on top of my mind that stops any happy thoughts from entering my body. I feel alone and my mom keeps worrying about me and I just want to feel free again.

Sometimes it's nice to know it's even possible to feel ok. Talk to your doctor about changing up your meds, it might get worse, but you might find one that can make you feel that all the time *hugs*.

You can do it, habibivegan. It's so tough, I know, but you can do it. You are strong and can get through this, even if you are feeling defeated right now.

The same goes for everyone else in this thread. You can do it. It sometimes seems impossible just to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but all you need to do is keep your feet moving. You can move them as slowly as you need to, maybe sometimes it'll feel like they're not moving at all - but they are, and you are. I really struggle with depression and anxiety and all sorts, and the past 6 months up til recently were not great for me. I'm doing better now, though, so I wanted to share the love: we're all superstrong amazing compassionate veg*n people, and we can totally do the things we put our minds to - making it through the days the best way we can.

I'm bipolar, in addition to the Asperger's. But I actually only take Buspar, with my doctor's approval. Lots of therapy though..

(hey, when you love somebody, it makes you want to get your shiitake together, excuse my language)

I have been having a pretty crepe time at the minute. I am finding my good days are becoming more and more rare and I just feel exhausted and sad and frustrated most of the time and I am having difficulty sleeping, I have started binging and purging again, which I haven't done in a long time, I have no energy to do anything and I just feel so suffocated. I am really trying to do all of the things that I know I need to do (I have been planning out meals, forcing myself to see my best friend and family and trying to keep myself in some sort of routine so I don't just stay in bed all of the time) but I just feel so ... I don't even know. I am still able to go to work but I get there in the mornings and close the toilet stall door and cry and I just want to be left alone.

I feel stupid because I am not as bad as I have been but I am just so tired of this. I feel like I have no reason to feel like this because I have "all of the tools" and I am on medication and I have had therapy, I mean I just stopped seeing a social worker for my anxiety about a month ago.

I don't even know why I am ranting but I don't really want to talk to my parents about this or anything. Sorry guys!

I just made an appointment to see a therapist. I figured I should after the plan of 2 drinks and an early night turned into leaving the casino at 5am. Ive been drinking way too much lately or getting way too drunk off of even just a few so something is a miss.
I've been off meds for over 3 years now and I really was hoping I would never have to go back.

Having a really rough day -.- New med only helps with sleeping..just really really rough day. Feel like crying and just hiding from the world. Not fun going to the police station at all to file abuse charges against my stepmother. Oh, and one of my supposedly close male friends decided I'm some kind of hors d'oeuvre. -.- I hate people right now. (including myself..) I want an animal and of course none are allowed here. ffs; hugging a pillow does NOT make me feel better.

go volunteer at a pet rescue or spca! or come here and ill loan my dog out to you

Thank you, I think I will do that actually; I know tons need help around here. (volunteer, not borrow your dog) Animals..they don't judge. They don't manipulate you; they just want to be fed and treated well.

Lately I've been dealing with some hefty bad feelings and it's making me feel like an ungrateful crasshole because everything is actually really good. Like, WHY doesn't that just sink in? Instead, my pathology takes me to the negative of everything, and makes it hard for me to tell my unfairly negative thoughts from reality. Hugs to everyone.

I've made more progress pushing back against my depression in the past month than I was ever able to over the previous 28 years. Meditation, meditation, meditation, and yoga. When the scary thoughts and memories start to march over the horizon, I let go of them by imagining a hand releasing an arrow drawn taut from a bow. I wish someone had suggested this to me years ago.

There's one thing, though, that I just can't shake: shelter dogs. On an intellectual level, I understand that there are millions of dogs put to sleep every year, hundreds (thousands?) every day out of what I guess could be construed as "necessity" (no time, no space, etc.), but when I see or read urgent/PTS lists from shelters and know that most of those dogs are going to get led into a strange room to be injected with poison and die because no one wants them or there's not enough room in the shelter for them to wait until someone takes them to their forever home -- christ al-fucking-mighty, when I realize that, when I feel its full weight and immediacy, I absolutely lose it, and I can't stop it at all no matter where I am. Sometimes I burst into tears in meetings at work, in mourning for all of the lost pups. The sadness completely crushes me, makes my breathing seize up, the tears won't stop, and it lasts for hours, sometimes days at a time. The only thing that drags me out of the sadness spiral is outright distraction -- shitty reality TV, junk food, crappy novels, drugs -- which makes me feel complicit and ashamed.
I know there's sadness and suffering all over the world, and I'm in the process of learning how to accept it and co-exist with it and put a stop to it whenever and wherever I can do so. I can handle that responsibility. But dogs, in pain or god forbid, dying? I can't deal with that at all, even in the abstract. All those wonderful faces, their sweet ears and curious eyes and tentatively-wagging tails, their warm paws, the soft fur on their bellies, all their personalities and quirks and experiences get extinguished just like that, through absolutely no fault of their own, and then their bodies get thrown out or burned like trash. I'm trying really hard to come to terms with everything under the sun, but I have no idea how to move past the awareness of that reality, let alone my tacit situational apathy toward the whole to-do, which is all but necessitated simply by being a functioning member of society -- you just can't let the sadness completely cripple you if you want to pay your rent. I've tried volunteering in a shelter and I cannot emotionally handle it AT ALL, which makes me feel like I'm just an exceedingly whiny part of the problem. I adopted a shelter dog and I donate as much money to shelters as I can, but I feel totally useless because so, so many beautiful babies are still hurt, still confused, still dying alone.
It's embarrassing to admit feeling this way because I don't know anyone else who feels that strongly about dogs (I have always loved/admired dogs more than I have ever loved/admired humans) and the people I've mentioned it to look at me like I've lost my forking mind, but I figure if anyone else feels the same way, it would be someone on the PPK.

Anyway.

I hope everyone in this thread is feeling at least a little bit better.

i feel exactly the same way as you, stephanie, and i also have learned to deal with a lot of shitty things but i can't deal with this one. you are not alone!

Stephanie, I can relate to your feelings about shelter animals. I still really struggle with it, but something that helps me is just constantly reminding myself that I can do a lot more good for the animals by being healthy and strong than by letting a horrible situation eat away at me. In my life, I've been able to donate money to shelters, participate in fundraisers, and hopefully one day in the not-too-distant future will be able to afford a home that can accommodate a dog. I can't save all those dogs and cats, but I can help in my small way if I stay strong. That said, I know it's difficult, and you have my sympathy.

Stephanie, as some others have said, you are really not the only person who feels this way. I'm in your boat in that I care about dogs so much but when I actually volunteer at a shelter it breaks me down emotionally. I do the best I can and I focus on the small victories . . . my friend stopped breeding dogs after meeting me and talking to me, my mother-in-law adopted a puppy mill rescue dog instead of buying, my dog gets a lifetime of love and security with me after being rescued, and I use my money to help because I have not yet emotionally figured out how to use my time. We can't all look at a lifetime of saving hundreds of dogs. But to the dogs that we do save, that's their life and it means the world to them.

I struggle with keeping it at a level of proportion deemed appropriate by the rest of the world, especially at work. One of my bosses rescued a greyhound, returned him after two days (he was "bad"), and then bought a puppy from a local pet store. I knew she knew all the facts behind what she was doing (she and I had talked about rescues and puppy mills) and I had to fight really hard to keep my temper because I knew that nobody else would consider that an appropriate response.

Thinking about dogs getting tossed aside or hurt can ruin my day. I don't really have a solution for you, but you're not alone. Hugs.

mooo, jp, jjr --
I really can't overstate how much it means to me to read your responses. I wrote that stream-of-consciousness rant immediately after reading PTS alerts -- pages and pages full of dogs and puppies, all confused and scared-looking with their tails between their legs, all already dead or scheduled to die today -- from one single shelter thousands of miles from where I live, and my heart and mind were (are) raw and wrung out. Just knowing that there's even one person in the world who doesn't think I'm off my rocker to be crippled by empathy for creatures that will never know I exist is a salve to the ache. It was really important and valuable to be reminded that the bottom rung on the ladder of being able to help is feeling healthy and whole enough to put forth the effort, and to value each small victory. Thank you for the kind and comforting words, and for the reassurance that I'm not alone in feeling so helpless about these poor babies. I am going to make a donation to a shelter right now so I can try to grasp at a tiny bit of closure for today. <3

I feel dispensable to most of the people I know.
People don't get in touch or maintain contact with me.
I feel like I could disappear and 95% of the people I know wouldn't notice.