Some people can sleep through anything. Screaming and shouting, thunderstorms, the neighbor’s dog barking, or a car going off outside.
I, on the other hand, can eat through anything. Pain, grief, anger, self-hatred, loneliness, utter despair. I’ve seen it as a curse. I suppose I now view it as a survival mechanism. A genetically favorable trait. In the same way that people with extra body fat can survive famine. If everyone just stopped eating in times of trouble, we’d all die. Obviously.
Perhaps this is why restriction appealed to me so much, and I first developed my eating disorder. Knowing that I could eat, but that I wouldn’t.