I'll try not to bore you.

I won't dip into my childhood to much. Not because it's painful to talk about or anything, it's just not that interesting. I'm not a victim of abuse, I wasn't torn apart by a divorce, when we we're poor I was too young to remember any suffering.
I'm only going to touch up on one topic from years ago.
When I was in 1st grade, I was diagnosed with severe anxiety. I don't remember going to a shrink of any kind, but I do remember a few doctors. They said it was a result of my parents making me move to Texas, leaving everything I knew behind, at such a young age. But the thing is, I really don't remember being devastated about leaving. Maybe I was just born this way, nothing traumatized me, nothing influenced me.
My parents never told me anything about a mental illness, they just said I was sick. Of course I believed them, I didn't even know people could be in the head.
My panic attacks really we're never brought on by anything, they just happened. As I got older, they grew in number. Kids at school eventually stopped asking me why I cried, why I screamed, why I was shaking, why I stormed out of the classroom. They got used to it, they really didn't care anymore.
I eventually got on medication, but I was told it was for my stomach. (Lots of my panic attacks resulted in making myself sick) Once I entered Middle School the panic attacks slowed, and eventually stopped altogether. I got off the meds, and I finally felt somewhat normal.
4 years went by, and the summer before my Sophomore year, the anxiety returned.
That was about six months ago.
I'm hiding it from my parents, I refuse to make them worry. I don't want people to drug me until i'm deemed "normal". Most of all, I want don't people to think i'm crazy.