Investigating why I like to eat small snacks constantly throughout the day rather than large meals at “normal” intervals reveals the theory that my ancestors were nomadic, and my brain and digestive system (also a brain of a sort) are more used to the constant snacking. Stuffing yourself then fasting repeatedly every day isn’t reasonable when you spend most of the day foraging or moving from one pasture to the next.
But if my brains are using that historical guide for food intake, why don’t they use it for other things too? Why do I always feel like sitting on my ass rather than walking somewhere, anywhere, even if it’s just to the grocery store? And why does my current home situation–selling one house and diving into the process of buying another–feel like purgatory rather than a natural part of a healthy, changing life?
Maybe it’s that there’s no field or forest to bushwack–that would be wonderful–but a set of paths that demand the correct navigation or else. As far as I can tell adulthood is the constant process of moving through an assortment of predefined systems, hoping you “get it right.” All these systems were defined by some other adult in some other place, and none of them seem to relate directly to me or anyone I care about. I had no idea being an adult would feel so much like living in some other person’s house, or on some other species’ planet, wondering when someone will notice you’re an imposter.