My boyfriend reminded me yesterday that I haven't been updating my blog. I told him that I don't know how to write anymore and I have nothing to talk about anyway. But my mind wouldn't shut up about this so I need to let this out.

Before I go on, I just want to gently remind whoever reading this: I am only writing this to let it out cause it's been bothering me for a LONG time and not for anything else (i.e. attention).

Depression / eating disorder. 

I won't say I have them. These terms are so loosely thrown around nowadays and everybody is using them unwisely. I'm really not saying that I have them. I'm definitely not clinically diagnosed either. I just feel like I have something close to it, somehow.

I've never really spoken to anyone except my boyfriend about it yet, but since a month ago, whatever this is, started to get a little bit out of control.

Sidetracking a bit, I've been self-conscious about my weight ever since I hit puberty and I talked about it here. It's a funny thing because I shouldn't have a reason to feel so since I've been underweight all my life. What I didn't mention in my post was that till today (yes, right now), I am still skipping meals on purpose, as if it's no big deal. I always told my friends "oh I'm so busy with all my assignments that I forgot to eat."

It got slightly better after I got together with my boyfriend because he nags at me to eat just about every hour and his mom would cook delicious meals when I go over his house sometimes. (She's wonderful by the way, in case any of you are wondering.) And of course, they often encourage me to eat more. But the more I eat, the more weight I gained, the fatter I felt.

My mom is an amazing woman. But because she's not aware of how weight has always been a sensitive issue for me, she never lets me forget how fat I am. She tells me almost everyday that I am gaining weight and getting fat. She reminds me everyday that I do not have a flat tummy and I am getting out of shape. It got to a point whereby she merely said the word 肥, which is fat in Chinese, and I broke down.

I started shouting and sobbing and it was just horrible. I won't deny that through eating regularly, I did gain a lot of weight (3-4kg or so - the most I've gained in my entire life since puberty somewhat stopped for me) and I started going towards the healthy weight range. I should be happy about this since me being underweight has brought many problems in my life (irregular periods and constant dizzy spells, for example). But everyday, I focused on how fat I felt and I felt so fucking terrible every single day.

I never used to work out and would complain at the slightest bit of exercise (example: climbing the NP hill lolol) but last week, I did a few sets of exercise. It made me feel lighter and happier but it didn't work out (no pun intended) for two reasons. Firstly, with assignments piling in, I really can't find the time to commit to this routine. Secondly, living in a two-room flat with my mother, brother and grandfather, I practically know of no privacy at all. So where do I find a place to work out? It is impossible to do so in the living room and since we all share a room, I can't work out peacefully either. My mother never understood this and went on to call me lazy and said I deserve to be fat.

And so, my confidence melted. I cried so often because I felt fat. I no longer look at life with optimism. I cried at the littlest things and picked on every single thing in my life. Even my boyfriend and friends were not spared because I lost my temper at them so often and I couldn't see what they were doing for me. I became tiring to get along with and even I was tired of myself. I shut myself out.

My friends couldn't understand what was I upset about because they can't see what I see the same way I can't see what they see. They say that it isn't obvious I've been gaining weight and that I'm still skinny. But what I see in front of the mirror is a fucking fat pig, with a ton of flaws everywhere.

I started to feel worse because of the stress that comes along with all the assignments piling in. Thus, I sunk into a deep hole. I won't say it is depression, because I'm not clinically diagnosed but I knew the signs. I was suicidal once in secondary school, and I guess deep down, I knew that it was coming for me again. I just refused to admit it.

Until the other day, my school brought us to the Institute of Mental Health (IMH) for a visit and they briefly touched on the topic of depression. That was when everything started to match up. Everything made sense again. Why I've been feeling suicidal again recently, why I've lost interest in everything I used to love, why I've been having headache so often, why I've been losing my temper so much.

Instead of trying to pick myself up or seeking help, I played the blame game. I blamed it on everyone except myself. But last night I realised I can blame the tv and the media and everything else, but I should blame myself too for falling for that crap. For letting the media shape my idea of perfection. For thinking doing well in school equates to a brighter future. For thinking stick thin is beautiful.

The same night, I told myself it's time to stop all these nonsense so I started a little project on my Dayre. Please check it out and follow me if you haven't. I'd love the support of everyone right now. So instead of nasty comments, I will really appreciate it if you leave some encouragements on my ask.fm.

Thank you all for listening. ♡