[.the real problem.]

There is no excuse for me neglecting my audience – except for the fact that I have been incredibly busy during the last few weeks. I’m not talking school-busy, although university coursework and various projects are driving me up the wall (they all seem to catch me unawares even though the deadlines have been specified in the syllabi at the very beginning of term). I am talking busy with getting myself sorted out – and coming to realise that I was a hypocrite, in a way.

See, after having been paid a visit by my mother (two, actually, one of them spanning a whole nine days of being taken care of by the most amazing human being on Earth), I came to the conclusion that I do not have an Eating Disorder. Not in the traditional sense, at least. Let me explain.

I have never had a chance to be a kid. Not really. See, I was forced to grow up rather quickly, with short-term goals like tests and exams and university applications fuelling my livelihood. I never had a goal for life – something realistic but unreachable within a short amount of time. It’s safe to say I never had a focus.

Neither did I ever have any real freedom. Again, not in the traditional sense, as my mom and I were always very close and enjoyed (and still do) a more friend-like relationship than that of a parent and offspring. But I was always a hostage of my own perfectionism – in part it stemmed from being raised by a self-made businesswoman and seeing how success is attained (through hard, nail-breaking work), in part it was my upbringing by a strict grandmother who always taught me to sit straight and never be late, in part it was the fact that everything – including the food on my plate, – was handed to me. I got a choice from familiarity, but I had grown accustomed to being given what I presumed to be mine.

Finding myself in an environment where I was forced, for the first time in my life, to be my own person, was hard. I lost control over my eating habits and gained weight – because I had grown up thinking I could eat whatever I wanted, and not whatever I wanted from what I was given. Suddenly there was a larger variety of choice – and I wanted it all. And I had it all.

Until I realised I was out of control. And I never did things halfway, therefore I sought to regain it through extremes, which I have described in the earlier posts.

The familiarity and the routines can be beneficial for comfort, but we never realise how damaging they are until we get out of our comfort zone and experience the world outside of our settings and habits. We get irritated when the elevator doesn’t come for a long time or when the coffee machine doesn’t work not only because of inconvenience – but because it ruins a familiar schema of how life is supposed to be.

And life is supposed to be unpredictable.

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[.comment.]

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