Brandon, Who Lives At Home

Yesterday was amazing. I never got so many hugs. I felt like Beyonce for a day. I was sent off with ice cream. One member made me a poem, another gave me a sketch book and pastels cause she knows I like to draw and I doodled a lot during session, someone selected a song for us to listen to because the night before they heard it on the radio and the song "makes me think of Brandon, cause he makes me smile." the song was September by Earth, Wind & Fire . It's such a upbeat song and so infectious, I was so touched. We were all dancing in the room whilst having discussions about confrontational wordage that instantly makes people defensive, even if you're rightly  addressing something wrong they did. I.E y ou always ... Or you didn't , You statements makes people defensive and tune out. But "I" makes things more neutral ground. I feel like you didn't listen to me ...." I'm not sure why I've added all that. back on topic,  3 people to...

Today will be my last day in the partial hospitalization program. I actually really enjoyed the program and met some truly amazing people, people with incredible stories. A newer person's story just recently touched me, shes been through hell and back. It's hard to digest that I've met someone in real life with such an absolutely horrifying story. I will miss the program but I think the other members will actually take my leaving harder, which is odd and kind of flattering. Somehow I've managed to touch all 10 people that have come along in total to the program. I hope they all can recover and live healthy happy lives, truly. I wish people didn't need programs like this, I wish people didn't get suicidal, and morbidly depressed. So today will be my last day and what's next I don't know. I feel like I've learned some things this past week though, some crucial things, thanks to php, and therapy. These people have kind of cracked me a bit and help...

I was so close, but in the end it doesn't even matter. I'm starting to get a bit more anxious about being out and about again. I see people staring at me again, a lot. Someone partially widened their eyes the other day when they seen me, and then tried playing it off as if that was just their face. My plantar fasciitis acting up again, I've ripped pants beyond repair. There are oddly still people rooting for me.

Yesterday I was on the borderline of having nervous breakdown in the morning.I think partially that is due to the fact that two days  I started a new dosage of one of my depression medications. But I took it wrong, I was going to switch from  80mg to 120mg but accidentally took 200, so I took both. The the day after I took literally 0 medications, so yesterday I was feeling erratic. I literally wanted to die at times, I was emotional, crying, felt like my skin was crawling like I had to move. Then finally it moved on after I did take my medication and started listening to a podcast and slept All day. I just kept sleeping and sleeping. I woke up to eat some pizza and went back to bed . Today I'm feeling unsure, I'm kind of feeling  like one of those former sports players who's lost all their glory.  I don't like to say that  I've lost weight outloud. I'm on my own

Really it should come as both little , and quite the surprise that I've been looking into weightloss surgery again . I've been strongly opposed for years and my opinion has only slightly altered. Because of my gaining woes, because of the feeling that I've run out of time and that I've wasted so much already. I feel like I need to give it more consideration. It won't solve my problem with emotional eating or binging. Or my still not quite right connection with food. The idea of giving up or even taking extended-required breaks from my favorite foods is challenging. I never want to not be able to eat a whole pizza, I never not want to be able to binge. These are the tools to my survival, incredibly unhealthy tools. Part of me is afraid to give them up, perhaps they are they last part of myself I can actually identify. I'm already a disaster story, a precautionary tale. The guy that lost so much weight and then gained it back. What if I became one of those st...

Yesterday in php it was a little intense. One of my favorites was leaving since it was valentines day the theme of topics was self love. My most hated subject. At one point we had to list some things people have referred to us by, positive things. One of the things I listed was inspiring, because "when I was losing weight some people online said that." That opened up a can of worms. I was prompted again about how I started losing and why I couldn't start again like I did originally. I told them It was about being at my lowest low, and about how I still had this desire, this dream of a life after weightloss. What things would be like for a thin me was a motivation.  The difference in current  me is that I don't have the desire, the thrill of being thin someday is gone and the bad part is I know that if I reach a certain level of regain, I'm checking out. And part of me wants to check out. There's a large part of me that has given up on life. The presen...

I know everything I need to know, that there is to know about nutrition. Lack of knowledge isn't my problem, I know what and when I'm doing wrong and continue anyways. In 2017 in the first half of the year before summer I reached a peak low weight of 320 , actually, 318, but I round up in this case because I hit 318 once and 320 multiple times. That was likely the true low anyways. So yeah 320. My dwindling reader base may remember that every time I got this low I shot up 5-15lbs, then got back down and repeated. There was clearly something psychosomatic about my inability to go any lower. Something within did not want me to continue to get lower, but why? Was I afraid of the realities of things? Maybe I was right, maybe everything would change and my social bubble would explode and I'd be involved in more endeavors and doing more. Maybe that meant I was scared that I wouldn't know who I was going to become, that the person I knew would be erased and maybe peop...

Dreams. I've been having dreams in which I'm running from something. A thing, or situations. I'm running from zombies in a peri-apocalyptic world.  I'm in a large city in traffic and a nuclear bomb is minutes from today touch down so the entire city is trying to escape to underground. Things become a fight to survive from the other people afterwards! Another, I'm running from my life from suspicious strangers out to do me harm. Trying to get away from gangsters. Trying to outrun vicious Grisly Bears that are unworldly smart. Or most recently trying to outrun a massive pack of hyenas. Most of these dreams have something in common. I'm running  in fear for my life, and I'm often simultaneously in search of my friends. Friends I've actually never met. In the hyena dream I knew I needed to make it closer to my friends in order to be safe from the hyenas. When I made it to my friends they were people I never met before, its been like this in every dream...

If you follow me on Instagram you're probably aware I entered a partial hospitalization program sometime in January. If you don't, now you do. If you've followed this blog long enough you know I was fully hospitalized twice most, recent being 2016, after which I was told I should enter this program, I refused. Suicidal ideation had increased quite a bit leading up to January and so I reluctantly decided I'd give the program a try as a last ditch effort to try to prevent what I felt was the inevitable. Last year at the beginning of the year I set some goals and failed them all. I recently turned 31, and honestly anytime I think about my age I  sink.  My weight is up, way up, in back into the mid 400s, yes it's that bad. And I've just been floating by. In 2016 I started following a woman, she mostly posted about her family but she was trying to lose weight initially. I enjoyed seeing updates about her kids who were in their late teens, nearing graduation....

I'm binging worse than ever. It feels like without food I'm nothing. Like I'm meaningless. Food is the only thing that gives me purpose. If I remove that, there is nothing left. This is part why I'm binging. Because I know my life has been wasted, I know I missed out on so much and now I'm 30, going on 31 and I've accomplished nothing. I'm a background character in everyone's life, even my own. Everyone else is living. But I'm only living when I'm eating and then wishing I wasn't after. It can only go on for so long.

My weight has shot up to 423. I'm officially fallen from grace I've officially gained 100lbs. At the time of this writing this is a weight gain story. I'm the guy who lost some but then gained it all back. I've always been pretty unfiltered on this blog, unlike on Instagram where I just don't feel I can or should be. That being said, I've been suicidal lately, lots of existential thinking with poor results. My psychiatrist who I seen today (12/14/18) wants me to do a partial hospitalization.  I'm not onboard. I'm not actively thinking of killing myself but I just know and feel it's eventually going to happen, like it's fate. It's just a gut feeling. In the rare times I'm enjoying a moment I'll l be ripped out of it because I'll remind myself that I won't be here in the end so what's the point of even enjoying this? (whatever this is at that moment). Almost like I have no control over what's going to happen. ...

Wasn't I?