My life with anxiety

This will be a long post. I warn you of that right now. It's my first post but it's been a long time in the planning and it's long overdue.

I've always had anxiety. Everybody used to call me shy but it was more than that. I would hide from my parents to avoid going to see people.. as in anybody. To see people and the inevitable possibility that I may have to say something scared the daylight out of me. By the time that this manifested in me, I was probably 4 or 5. I thought it was normal to feel this way, to think this way.

My parents didn't understand and responded with anger. As a parent now, I can understand that. It wasn't their fault. They didn't understand what was going on any more than I understood what was going on.

By the age of 7 or 8, my relationship with my older brother was already strained, abusive at best. I don't know if every brother-to-brother relationship is like this but I recall having the head of a sparrow that the bird left behind stuffed into my mouth. I can still almost feel the maggots there now. I recall having thrown in the pool and being held under until my mother pulled him off me.

I recall being thrown against the wall and being punched again and again. My mother's response was "he's going through a tough time at the moment".

It was also at that time that my nature, which involved hugging everything and everybody in sight came about. It didn't take long before that became a source of attack from other boys. I just didn't understand that hugging was a wrong thing to do. I look forward 30 years and I can't even get within a couple of feet of someone else before feeling my skin crawl. I hate touching or being touched by others. It just seems so wrong.

By the time I was 8, I began to notice that my skin colour was different to other kids. Rather than the opaque caucasian expression of my community, I was a solid tone of milk chocolate in all seasons.

Two years later, it was a purmoltuous time in my country's history as people of my race were given rights that had been stolen over a century prior in the name of the Church. The attacks moved from familial to communal. Because of the colour of my skin, I was ridiculed and belittled constantly.

By the age of 13, I was being called to stand in front of my caucasian class to hear my conservative social studies teacher lecture for 15 minutes about how those of my race 100 years ago were rapists, murderers, and thieves. I still hear the words, "That's who you descend from.. you can sit down" ringing in my ears.

That same year, I scored the highest score among all years in a snap social sciences exam testing general knowledge.. beating out kids who were 4 and 5 years my senior and had specialised for three years. My teacher turned to me and said, "You must have cheated. Nobody like you could possibly pass anything in their life".

Three years later came the ultimate humiliation from which to this day I do not know how I didn't go through with suicide. Rather than humiliate me in front of my classmates, our head boy and head girl called me out in front of the entire school to do something even worse than what that teacher did years previously.

So, did any teachers come up to me to ask if I was okay? Did the school counsellor ask me if I was okay? No, nobody did. Nobody cared because it was me.

I am an individual with some amazing talents and someone with amazing empathy for others. I just can't connect with people anymore. I am always scared of humiliation. I am always scared of taking the lead. I am always scared of making mistakes. Amazing potential that I will never realise because I will never be able to believe in myself.