Psychology

I was in my Psychology class on Wednesday and we started discussing some very interesting topics. Obesity. Depression. Murderers’ thoughts. Homosexuality. Insane things. I love it. I’ve never felt so normal, yet so different in my entire life.
Not everyone I speak to knows my past. I’ve struggled with anorexia for years. My daily thoughts and emotions would blow most people’s minds. It’s not as difficult to talk about now, but only around certain people. My parents, for instance, do not know that I classify myself as anorexic. At college, it is quite different. I’m not afraid to be myself.
All that aside, we were talking in class about Nature vs. Nurture. Was I brought up to be who I am? Was it my parents’ fault for raising me in such a way that I have an eating disorder? Or was it ingrained in my genetics? Would I have turned out this way if I was brought up in an orphanage? Or shuffled from foster home to foster home? Is it really anyone’s fault?
I’m mixed on this particular subject. I cannot say it was completely my parents’ fault. I was an extremely active child. Dance, gymnastics, cheer leading, color guard. Furthermore, I cannot say it isn’t completely excluded from genetics. My sister struggled with anorexia. My cousin is bulimic. My aunt was anorexic. Most of the family would be considered “overweight” or “obese”. All eating disorders. So, which is it?
Anorexia, for me, is a daily choice…most days. I choose to wake up and not eat. I choose to skip a meal. I choose to stop eating after a certain amount. Some days, however, I have no control. Those days are few and far between now. Those were the days of diet pills and laxatives. (Which would also classify me as bulimic.) Those days ended, for the most part, earlier this year. I can honestly say that I have not had a diet pill since then. I cannot say I haven’t thought about wanting one. I have been at the store alone, and I find myself looking at the boxes on the shelf. I’ve tried most of them. Some I cannot have due to a heart condition. I want to be thin, not dead. I want to be alive to enjoy my thinness. (That isn’t to say I haven’t wanted to die. I have.) So, is it a choice? I didn’t wake up one day and say “I want to have an eating disorder. Starving myself sounds like fun.” But I do have those thoughts. It’s a strange mindset.
Depending on the day, the hour, the second, my answer will change. I love it. I hate it. It’s all a matter of when you ask….