I spend my evening prayers begging God, not just for strength to be brave, but to be cured of my fears and anxieties. I know God won't answer those prayers in the way I wish He would. Yet, I still ask, not because I believe there's a slim chance God will somehow change His mind and make me the most fearless creature in the universe. But, because it's simply my way of conveying my many frustrations and anxieties to the God Who Heals; lamenting and grieving the girl and woman I could've been had I been born "normal", to the only One I know understands. 

I know this desire to be "normal" will never make me "normal". No matter how many times I rant to God about every little flaw and weakness of mine, or how I describe and idealize "normal" people to Him in prayer, I will probably never get to taste what "normal" feels like. Fresh, stale water will forever remind me of all the times water-borne lung infections nearly bested me. The sound of a high wind rushing through the trees will forever remind me of the sound of oxygen masks and medical suction tubes. The mere sight of the hospital will forever send tremendous chills down my spine. Crowded rooms, airplane cabins, and elevators will forever spike my heart-rate to nearly deadly speeds. I may just forever be an extremely neurotic and watchful person, relying on anxiety medication to tame down the physical reactions to my fears. But, never making the feeling of fear go away. 

People will continue to misconstrue my appearance of outward confidence and masculinity as fearlessness and toughness. When in reality, I'm screaming inside all of the damn time, and I'm physically suffering from the anxiety in ways people never see or notice. Most of all, I just wish to have a few people close to me who can recognize the extremely subtle signs of my anxiety rearing its ugly head, and know how to react accordingly. Unfortunately (or fortunately), the reactions to anxiety I cannot hide are almost never noticeable to the people around me. Even to those who know me extremely well. Unless, of course, my knees buckle under my weight and my vision becomes clouded and starry. By then, I'm experiencing crisis levels of anxiety, and I'd rather not get to that point for people to notice I'm struggling. 

Truth is, I'm just too ashamed of my anxiety to really voice it, because I'm an adult, damn it! I should be able to handle damn-near everything as adults do. Or, more accurately, I should act like a teacher in a room full of kids whenever I start to panic. But, I know that's not the right away to deal with my anxiety. It's not right to just stuff it down and pretend everything is fine when they're not. Especially since I'll never be responsible for anyone younger than my little brother (who will actually laugh at me for being fearful, because that kid's got not one speck of fear). So, why suppress my anxiety like I'm expected to be the "chill" person in the room, when it's actually okay for me to be vulnerable from time-to-time with trusted friends and family members, so they can actually help me?

I think these questions all boil down to how I was born and raised. I've been an "old soul" all my life; rarely interacting with my peers and opting to sit at the table with the adults instead. I was also raised largely by extroverts who expected me to be on my absolute best behavior no matter what, and told me horror stories from their not-so-awesome childhoods that scared me shitless (and still kind of do). Besides that, I was simply too sick and tired to act out in any sort of way. I was too busy just trying to fucking survive to purposefully seek out trouble for personal entertainment. I was already way in over my head in shit dealing with my health and social issues. I didn't need to "spice things up" with typical tween/teen shenanigans. 

I only began to seek adventurous things when I started to fully realize how fucking pathetic I was. Even then, my adventurous behaviors were fostered by my parents. Mom put me in Tae Kwon Do to learn how to kick ass and get my ass kicked, not just for physical health reasons, but to try to build up my confidence and reduce my anxiety. Dad roped me into Motocross and Off-Roading for similar reasons. He also tried to get me into camping, but ruined that rather spectacularly with that horrible spider-infested camper from the 70s. While enjoyable, those things often did scare me. But, instead of "coddling" me and talking me through my fears, my parents more or less just told me to "suck-it-up" and "fake it till I made it". 

They didn't mean to be malicious by any means. They just didn't know any better. Hell, nobody seemed to know a damn thing. Not even the most prestigious psychologists in the state and country had an idea of what to do with me. Everyone simply blamed my ways on "trauma" and prescribed more EMDR (which did absolutely fucking nothing). It wasn't until I was eighteen someone finally guessed right. Yes, I have a lot of issues to work out with myself. I have a hell of a lot of PTSD and generalized anxiety/depression from both sides of the family. But, I'm also Autistic, and am just generally eccentric, neither of which are bad.