Well, from a young age I loved the Bible. I was fascinated with the stories I read. I dug into the words and ate them up. Asking my teachers if the myths we later learned about were based on truth re: Genesis 6. Great men in those days, men of renown, giants. And the fallen angels came down and saw that the daughters of eve were beautiful and lay with them and they produced corrupted seed. Sounds like Greek and Roman myth to me.
At age nine I asked my grandma if the dove that Noah released the same dove that descended on Jesus when he was baptized.

That raised some eyebrows like, uh, honey I don't know.
All of this aside, because I knew something was different about me, I came to faith in Jesus at a young age. My home was a stable environment, but at school and elsewhere it was hell. I ran to God because I had no one else who understood what I was going through.
Later on, when I found out about my autism, I was very bitter towards God. Why did you create me this way? Hated the verses, like, why do you, oh clay, ask The Potter why did you make me this way?" Etc. Verses like that. I think it's normal to question God; many of the people God used questioned Him often. But at the end of the day, they had no one else but Him.
Later on, when my life spun out of control in my 20s and 30s, I was very broken but God still used the years of pain. I'm 3 years healed of self-harm, and so many people have been asking questions about autism, help for those that self-harm, have eating issues, depression, etc. What was meant for evil, God turned into something good. Hard to see this when my life for so long was walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Often wishing for death and trying 3 times but being brought back to life. If that's not a miracle, then I don't know what is.
For the above and countless other reasons, I still have and walk out (sometimes crawling) the walk of faith. It's not called the straight and narrow path for nothing.
