Does this count as a testimony? Sorry it's long

I’ve been a born-again Christian since I was a little kid.

I was raised on VeggieTales, Joyce Meyer’s teaching tapes and videos (Mom really likes her, so I’ve known about her ministry for many years), and many other Christian influences. It wasn’t until this year, though, that I really started trying to get to know God. As a teen, I was pretty good about minding my Ps and Qs, being kind to others, and I went to Youth Group and Bible study every week. That was all fine and dandy until I was about seventeen. That was the year I did not follow God at all. That was the year my story really started.

Around age seventeen, I grew very bored of my state of being. Grade twelve was not a good school year, and I even broke up with my boyfriend at that time, a new Christian nonetheless, for various reasons: one of them being the long distance that I resented, but the biggest reason was that I had met someone else who was much more charming, more attractive, and was actually very interested in me. To this day, I do not regret the decision one bit, because of how everything has turned out for me since I turned back to God. However, there are a couple of things I could have done without.

I didn’t know about my new boyfriend’s rebellious spirit, his do-what-I-want attitude, and some of the choices he had made in his past until well after I started dating him. He made a really bad impression on my family at first, and for a while, I was not allowed to even see him. My chat conversations with him on Facebook were snooped through by a family member, and that got me into more trouble. But I really liked him, and he liked me too! What was I going to do?

Blatantly disobeying my parents was my solution. I finally had a vehicle. I went to his house every day: after school, before work, and when school ended and exam week started, I would leave for “school” for a test (even though I completed my exams during the first three days of exam week). I turned my phone off, or left it at home, so that nobody from my family could contact me. I even stayed the nights with him, which angered my parents a lot! There was a lot of stress going on at home, and I just wanted to escape. I could have chosen to behave properly, but I didn’t.

If my parents asked where I was going, I would lie. If they asked who I was talking with on the phone, I’d lie again. When I came home high as a kite and they asked me what I was doing, I lied even more! Soon, I began lying about things that would never have gotten me in trouble in the first place! My parents were already having marriage problems, and I just made things worse with my behaviour. To this day, I still wonder if I was the “last straw” that made them break up. Seriously, this is painful to even write about. Mom finally told me that she didn’t know me any more. My siblings stayed away from me, condemned my actions, and made it very clear that I was no longer in their favour. I wanted to do better, but I was possessed by a spirit of rebellion, and I had long since hidden myself from God (which is useless, because God is everywhere). I rejected Christianity and everything about it, and I didn’t know why. Thankfully, that was only for a few months.

When I finally felt the weight of conviction for my ways, I had already moved out and was living with my boyfriend. I had just turned eighteen at the time, and my parents could no longer do anything to stop me. I didn’t talk to any of my family for nearly a month. I argued with my mom through Facebook chat for a while, and after that, total silence. I quit my job at the grocery store, and started working at the town office, which I knew in my heart was not what I was meant to do. The first few weeks I was moved out of my parents’ house, I had a lot of time to cool down and rethink my actions. I was an adult now, and my parents could no longer control what I did. That meant I could stop lying about what I was doing. Eventually, it became easier for me to tell the truth, but it was a process. Once I was able to stop lying about everything, I noticed my family began to trust me again. I made sure never to talk about my boyfriend when I would come home to visit, and I wouldn’t even dream of bringing him out there with me. How different things are now!

I got fired from the town office after two months. I wasn’t suited for the job, since it was a lot of office work, spreadsheets, boring shit like that. It didn’t match my interests or my talents, and I had applied for the job just so I had a reason to quit at the grocery store. I was upset, mainly because I liked the huge paychecks, but also because I felt so incredibly stupid and embarrassed that I had been fired from a job that was supposed to be easy. That was a sign that I needed to turn back to God, because even though I thought I would have my future under control, I couldn’t do anything without Him. Depression set in once again (I have struggled with anxiety and depression since I was ten years old, and my last episode had been when I was fourteen), and pretty soon, I felt totally numb and hopeless about everything. I began to have strife with my boyfriend, and things were not going well.

So I decided to tell God I was sorry, and that we should start things over again. Shortly after that, I got a job at Smitty’s Family Restaraunt, where I worked for eight months. It was actually one of the best decisions I could have made. During those eight months, I began to pray more often. I would thank God for all the good improvements in my life, and that my relationship with my parents, even though they had separated shortly after I moved out, was okay again. One day out of the blue, my Dad decided to see my boyfriend at work, and apologized to him for how my family had acted towards him. My boyfriend, in turn, apologized for making a bad impression, and for being disrespectful towards my family. The strife with my boyfriend was lifted!

After I turned back to God, a lot of nice changes happened to my boyfriend. His rebellious attitude had slowly faded away, and his harsh words and bad choices had ceased. He is not perfect, but I could not be more proud of him. My parents agree. They decided to let go of our past, and now they like him very much! My siblings are okay with him too now, I think. Heck, even my grandma is okay with him, and she disliked him the worst at one point! My depression issues lasted until I had started seeing a therapist, and it took a few months before I finally got it under control once again. I still have issues with sin, depression, and bad choices once in a while, but I have realized that it is a part of living, whether you’re Christian or not. The difference is, now I can turn to God and ask his forgiveness, and I am learning all kinds of neat things about spiritual maturity. I still have a ways to go, since it’s a lifelong process, but I’m optimistic.

"Oh, well." (Sorry this one's kinda long)

Today was a busy, crazy, long, stressful sort of day. 

My job as a housekeeper at the Krossing Hotel is usually pretty simple: make the beds, clean the bathrooms, vacuum the rooms, repeat. And then after both wings of the hotel are done (usually around 2 or 3:00) there might be a little bit of laundry to fold. And then we put away the fresh sheets, fill the spray bottles with cleaner, and sign out around 3:30. Sometimes, we are done very early, with only a few rooms that need a thorough cleaning, and we leave around 2:00, satisfied with our easy shift. We always hope for those days. 

Today was not one of those days.

When I woke up, my first thought was, Wow, morning came way too soon! I made myself get up, even though the house was freezing, and my boyfriend was curled up in a big sleepy ball of warmth that I didn't want to let go of. I stretched and recited Psalms 118:24 inside my head a couple of times.

This is the day that the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

I had to pray for a little extra joy this morning. 

Work started an hour later than when I showed up, and the news that there would be sixteen Housekeeping rooms (rooms that needed a thorough cleaning from top to bottom, brand new bedding, the whole works), and the fact that there were only three people on to handle this sort of thing, was not amusing. Not at 8:00 in the morning. My friend told me that we would not be done the work until 5:00 that evening. 

Now, upon hearing this, I had two options. I could have:

A) Freaked right out, blamed the manager for not scheduling more people on, and bitched and complained the whole day, or
B) Remembered what I had learned from pastor Joyce Meyer's teachings on handling feelings and shitty situations, which have made a considerable difference in my life in a short period of time.

I could feel the familiar sensation of hopelessness rising up in my head, like a bathtub filling with frigid water. I knew too well that if I had let that seed take root in my mind, the only fruit that I would get from it was a bad attitude, which would mean a bad mood. And my day had just started. Psalms 118:24 echoed somewhere in the back of my brain, and instantly, I stopped myself from thinking poor thoughts before I could even start. 

"I'm not impressed," I told myself. "but oh well. The sooner I get working, the better."

The other two girls agreed. We ended up missing our 9:00 coffee break, and cutting out most of lunch break. By the time lunch did roll around, we were finally able to start cleaning up the Housekeeping rooms, which is pretty late, considering we could be done one entire wing of the hotel by lunch. Checkout is at 11:00 every morning, and since there was a big wedding party the night before, a lot of the guests slept in and had to check out at the last minute. We had worked for three hours, and we were already exhausted. The rest of the day went like this, and at one point, my coworkers had called in a few of their family members to come help with the cleaning, as they could not get a hold of any of the other housekeepers employed. Four hours' worth of work was completed in nearly two and a half, and by 4:30, the mountain of sheets in the laundry room had a dent in it. 

I had the feeling that my attitude was also helping. 

Sure, we complained a bit about how sore our legs and feet were, and how it hurt to keep bending over to clean and pick things up, but I knew that the more optimistic I was, the lighter the work seemed. But I also understood that realistically, even with the help we finally got, we still wouldn't be done at a decent time. Somehow, I just felt okay with that. 

It was 5:45 when we finally signed out and left. I have to do it all again tomorrow, but Front Desk told us that our day tomorrow would not be nearly as busy as today was.

So now it's time for a hot bath and an early night, which I've decided is my reward for keeping my cool all day. 

Everything Will Be Alright In The End

I'm so excited for the new Weezer album!

Their last album, Hurley, came out when I was in grade ten, back in November 2010. I took it home, played it in the car, and while I thought it was great, my mom made me shut it off. I think I was the last person to realize that Raditude and Hurley were not that awesome, afterall. But I didn't give up hope on the band, like a lot of other people have. They didn't always suck, as their interesting history shows, and this upcoming album, Everything Will Be Alright In The End, seems promising.

So far, they've released two songs, "Back To The Shack", and "Cleopatra". The better of the two has to be Cleopatra, hands down! I'm looking forward to some of their other new tunes, like "Return to Ithaca", "Ain't Got Nobody", and "Lonely Girl".

I've already pre-ordered the album. It comes out two days before my birthday, so I am a very lucky girl!

I'll review it once I finally hear the whole thing (:

When I was Fourteen

When I was fourteen

I thought I was cool
Because I had black hair,
And bright pink pants
And I knew a song called "Hash Pipe".

I thought he was my boyfriend
But any person who ignores you
and prefers somebody else
is not your boyfriend. No matter what he says.

I wanted to try drugs
But I had no idea where to find them
How much they cost
Or what kind of person they could have turned me into

I used to cut myself
Because he made me feel like shit
and I listened to metal
Because it drowned out my thoughts

I made a lot of mistakes
I should have kicked him out
But I let him stay
And I confused being used with being loved.

When I was eighteen

I had somebody new
He noticed me and made me happy
I knew all the words to "Hash Pipe"
And I even saw the band in concert.

I had learned from fourteen's mistakes.

Look Who's Leaving The House Today!

I'm going to a party tonight. 
Like, a real party. With old classmates. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about this. 

My boyfriend says it's nice that I got invited, which I agree with. It wasn't like everyone hated me in high school; just a few kids here and there. I think I'm excited to go. My cousin sent a huge box of her old clothes to me, and I've always liked getting hand-me-downs from her. So I've got a wide selection of party clothes to choose from, some coolers in the fridge, and some new found confidence that I didn't have during high school. 

I know a couple of my friends are going. The only thing that makes me nervous is whether or not a few individuals might be there. I mean, any drama I had with them was two years ago now, and I'm over it, so I assume that they are, too. I just don't like having to face somebody that I had problems with in the past, you know? Especially when no amends were really made. But I'm sure everything will go well. I would hope that everyone is a little more mature now than we were two years ago, and with that in mind, I sit down and write, wondering if I should wear the snakeskin-looking pants later tonight, or the tan skinny jeans I'm wearing right now. I know there's no pressure for me to look my best, but at the same time, I kind of want to show everyone that I am not the same person they knew back in school. 

I want people to see how I really am. I keep telling myself, "You're not a mouse, you're a lioness!". I'm trying to build myself up to be confident and strong tonight. I'm not going to be shy, I'm not going to hide from anything, and most of all, I'm going to be brave.

Acid Reflux

Here is one reason why I want to be an elementary teacher:

I was bullied a lot when I was little. It started as early as grade one, and continued until grade six (actually, there were even incidents throughout early Junior High, too), and every day kind of just blurred into one long-ass school year. A six-year school year. 

Now, even though I do not remember absolutely every single harsh word, eye roll, giggle, or sneer, there are some incidents that still stand out, and even though they don't hurt any more, I'll probably still remember them until the day I die (Take notes, people: your actions and words can stay with someone for the rest of their life!).

Grade three was a particularly rough year. I guess everyone was that age where children start to differentiate who they want to be friends with, and who they don't. It's a time where they start the very early stages of forming their little personalities, develop their skills, and decide what kinds of things interest them, and what doesn't. But at this age, not a lot of kids realise that everyone is different, and that it's okay. This is where I come in. I'm not going to say I was a "special snowflake, ohmygodhowunique!" kind of kid. I was funny-looking. I had messy hair, crooked teeth, big glasses, and I wore funny clothes; hand-me-downs that never really fit right. I was raised in a fairly sheltered, loving, yet sort of dysfunctional home, and with the exception of a couple of good friends, I didn't have much in common with the other kids. 

Needless to say, I got rejected a lot when I was young. There was a little clique, five girls that I wanted to be friends with, who would shut me down every time I tried. One time, they did actually let me hang out with them for a couple of recess breaks. I thought maybe I would become popular after all! But one day at last recess, the girls huddled together and left me out. 

"Who are we keeping in the group?" One asked. Now, I can't exactly use names, because this is the Internet and these are real people I'm talking about. So, fake names, it is. 

"Amy?" the same girl asked.
"Yes!" they all said back.
"Laura?"
Another yes.
"Madelaine?"
"Brittany?"
"Cloe?"
My turn was next.
"How about Seanna?"

"NO!" They all screamed, and then they ran away laughing. I remember my stomach felt like they had all kicked me at the same time, and left me on the ground, out of breath. I cried for a very long time after that. I even had to miss gym class and stay inside because I was too scared to tell my teacher what had happened. I don't think my parents ever found out about this, either. 

And it wasn't just the girls. Most of the time, some of the boys were in on it, too. That was worse. Because of this, I spent many years believing that I was ugly, and undesirable, and not worth anyone's time because I was not pretty. And the movies and shows and books I liked? The other kids made fun of. My clothes? Same thing. My voice, my hair, my face, my mannerisms, my drawings? Same damn thing. Nothing I did was good enough for the other kids in my class, and nothing I did to change my appearance ever worked. 

The point of my rant: the stuff I had to go through here, the bullying, the exclusion, the rejection, is one of the biggest reasons I want to teach elementary. When I was little, I thought there was nobody who could help me, or even wanted to help me. Things are much different these days, thanks to the help of a lot of good friends, siblings, a few teachers, and a therapist over the years. And the same kids who were mean to me did eventually lighten up and leave me alone. I did end up getting along with many of them years later. I just want to be that person that a child can come to and talk to without fear of being laughed at some more. I want to tell other kids that their problems matter, and that there is someone who is willing to help them. 

This is a Post

I haven't written in forever. 

"And who's fault is that?" My boyfriend just asked me. I know, it's true. It's important to set aside time to sit and write, whether it's a poem, or a couple lines, or whatever. It's been a long year, and if you were to look through my files on my laptop, my stuff on a couple of fan fiction sites, or even my Twitter feed, there's not much to show for it. It's been a dry year.

"But Seanna!" you might not be thinking. "You're such a good writer! What about those little stories you used to make?"

Yeah, I don't know what happened either, and now I've run out of excuses. Maybe I got tired of wearing my heart on my sleeve, posting poetry and stories about my day-to-day life for people who will never read them. Maybe I got tired of people asking stuff like, "is that character supposed to be you?", "Who's that supposed to be about?", stuff like that. I've had writer's block since 2013, for fuck's sake. 

But it wouldn't be true if I said I didn't do any writing. I guess I started on a few stories, developed a few characters, dreamt up a couple of plots... and then abandoned them all. I started a story loosely based on how my boyfriend and I met, but I thought I'd be clever and use two girls instead of the standard boy-meets-girl. I had everything planned out, right down to the climax of the story. It was the ending that got to me. I couldn't decide whether Jade and Charlotte were going to actually fall in love, or if one of them was going to move away, or what was even going to happen. I abandoned that story months ago now. I tried another one, this time with a group of four friends on a stoned adventure of some sort. But now that I think about it, the story kind of trailed off to nothing, and that seems rather fitting. 

Now I'm here, sitting on the love seat with a laptop warming my legs nicely. I'm a tiny bit proud of myself; I actually wrote a whole blog post! That counts as writing, doesn't it?