How losing control over myself was the best thing that has ever happened to me:

I'm a control freak. I admit this. Even though I'm really spontaneous and adventurous, I remember that I've never gave myself the opportunity to slip. I remember that I've never went to college with un-neat clothes or un-prepared face: at least a coat of mascara and a lip palm on. I never went to a final exam without having everything I can study on my mind, and I cannot say it always worked though!
I always watched what I eat, even if I'm considered overweight, I've always put on mind what goes into my body because I was freaking out of gaining more weight.
I always was portrayed as this one who gets his shit together all the time like a classic novel.
However, I was not. I was more like a modern poem that lacks rhymes and meters. A free verse that looks like a complete hot mess.
Because all I wanted is for this pulled off image to last .But in the process, I did everything to conceal how I feel, how I truly feel.
Because I stayed up all nights studying till I sometimes lose the ability to move my hands whenever a test was on. Because I woke up 30 minutes early to leave the sleepy face under my pillow. Because I've spent all my crying time in bathrooms instead of on someone's shoulders.
I remember zooming into my face in pictures with different angles of me and thinking "oh if I were slimmer, If my skin was pure, if my smile was bigger, if my eyes were brighter!" And the whole dilemma got inflamed the more was portrayed as someone who is really really okey with himself. Because at sometimes, I was not.

No need to give more information about the "traditional female self-loathing battle with self-image" However, I believe that losing control over myself was the best and the most self-humiliating experience that has ever happened to me.
It was my senior year in college when I started letting my world slip, a bit after bit between my fingers. Well, I stopped crying in the bathroom and started crying in public, everywhere! I remember once getting checked up, just normally checked up, at a clinic and I started crying while telling my mom how I feel uncomfortable in my own skin and how I feel suffocated and unworthy. The funny thing is, people started thinking something was really serious going on and that a young lady like me has some sort of illness. Howsoever, I can never complain; I got lots of support at this day from people that I didn't know.
The normal me would have said"I'm okey", "there's absolutely nothing wrong with me." But I didn't. Because I wasn't feeling okey: I was feeling depressed, lonely, shattered, and unworthy. This day was the day I accepted that I can be a mess sometimes, well maybe most of times, and still be valid. For a moment I felt like I'm making sense; therefore, I'm valid!
The past few months, I started letting myself enjoy the time in-which all I can do is breathing and surviving. I spend hours in my bed, with messy hair, watching classic movies and not feeling ashamed of myself. I started reaching out to people and speak my heart out, declining some outing offers if it makes me feel pushed, and shutting off my social media for a while if it offers me peace. I felt that I was no longer a horse in a race that leads me nowhere.
Being out of control and not being able to control my life taught me exactly how to find balance: It taught me to break the old rule, that I've been always taught, and let myself breathe in and out without having to suffocate myself. It taught me how a control freak can never find happiness, and this is a lesson I still need more time to learn. I learned to not always sound like a superheroine to be one, because the superheroine spends some time crying in the bathroom, and that is okey.