I thought I would write about my history, and my experience with anorexia in this post. It turned out to be an extremely long post (over 2000 words), so I've broken it up into bits for easier reading!
When I was 11, my family moved to France. They simply decided to go, because I had finished primary school, my father had been laid off from his work a year previously, and they just loved France. Prior to this, I had been attending a French-American school in the US. I was not in the least consulted in this abrupt decision, and had no desire to leave. My parents left for about a week, and I was left to stay with friends, who, I believed, did not particularly like me, and also, whom I was not particularly close with. In that week, they chose our apartment, my new school, and a university at which they would be learning French.
Thus, I felt a large sense of resentment and anger. Looking back at it, I was a powerless pawn the King and Queen were directing. Perhaps, if they'd as little as asked me whether or not I wished to move to France, I might have consented, and said "Ooh, that sounds cool! Let's move to France!" (although, I rather doubt that would have been my reaction.) The process would have been a lot less painful, and I might have been happy to go. Or at least, I would have felt that my opinion mattered, that I was respected.
In any event, off to France we went. Unsurprisingly, I had a difficult time there. I had trouble connecting with my peers, and I felt plunged in a dark world without a smooth transition. I was shocked by the fact that 11 year olds were swearing, not doing their homework, and walking around town alone. So it was a rather biting thrust into what I considered 'adult' or at least teenage life, for which I was completely unprepared.