Broken Expectations…

“Our life is full of brokenness- broken relationships, broken promises, broken expectations.”

When growing up your parents or a family member, maybe even a teacher, must have told you at some point in your early life that you can be whatever you want to be when you grow up. I took that saying to heart like most of you had. I wanted to be a best-selling novelist and journalist since the age of 9. I loved to write short stories and poems. I wanted to travel world, experience other cultures, learn from their wisdom and share their stories. I wanted to BE SOMEONE. I wanted people to recognize my name. I didn’t want to be that dorky girl from high school who had a very limited social life. I wanted to be great. I was going to do it my way. Screw everyone else and their opinions. I WILL be someone.

I took my studies very seriously in both high school and university. I graduated top of my class in high school but made quite a few sacrifices to get there. I didn’t have a lot friends. I didn’t go to many parties and I was on one sports team. Most of my spare time was spent studying and finishing school projects months in advance. I was on a schedule. I ran a tight ship. Anything under an 85% was a failing mark to me. Anything under a B+ was out of the questions. I needed the marks and good grades in order to be a successful journalist. I thought I knew the characteristics. I made sure I fit in nicely with the “You can be a writer” personality checklist.I made sure of it all on my own.

After I graduated from university I applied to countless jobs and I lost track of how many interviews I did. I thought finding a job would be easy. i had a great personality. My grades were amazing. I volunteered and did a lot of charity work. Come on- who wouldn’t want m on their team? Well- everyone guess because I didn’t get a job. I stopped writing. I feel like a complete failure. I feel like I just wasted thousands of dollars and I am now in so much debt for a degree that didn’t get me anywhere. I have never been outside of Canada. I never had an article published in a magazine like Vogue or well known newspaper like the Globe and Mail. I felt like I didn’t accomplish any dreams. That everyone lied to me- I couldn’t be anyone I wanted to be. I felt lost, terrified, and my anxiety began to overpower me. That is until I found my dream job…

I always had a flair for fashion but being a model wasn’t an easy accomplishment when you feel like the ugliest person in the world in high school and I cannot sew a button on a shirt so to create full lines of clothes forget about it. I dropped fashion aside and focused more on writing. That is until now. I took a job with Reitmans as a full time sales consultant. I love my job. I get to work with amazing ladies who share fashion tips with me and we have a lot of fun. I make women feel amazing in their own bodies by helping them choose amazing outfits. I help visualize the store so that the clothing looks appealing. I LOVE my job….even dressing mannequins. Even after the “Oh but everything would look good on you because you are so skinny” replies. I LOVE MY JOB.

However…..my bank account not so much. After experiencing a bit of a pay cut from my previous job and bills piling up and a semi-expensive wedding and other things, I am broke. I am relying on my husband to pay for a lot of things and I feel the same amount of anxiety starting to build up. I am so broke, lost, frustrated and confused. I did EVERYTHING in my power to be successful so why do I feel so low?

“Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load.”  -Galatians 6:4

So my anxiety is pretty much at its peak. I’m surprised I haven’t had a total meltdown yet. I see my life being played out by other people and it makes my skin boil. I hate how it makes me feel. I feel so ugly inside and the jealousy just won’t subside.

My little sister gets to travel around the world with her fiance and experience different cultures. She’s even doing a wedding blessing ceremony in Bali … BALI!!!!!!

My entire Bible study group is comprised of journalists who graduated from the exact same journalism program as me who worked just as hard as me to get their grades and jobs.

I found a job I love but to advance in it and make more money I will most likely have to move but I love my city and my friends are here.

My husband is paying for a lot of my bills which isn’t fair and I hate relying on people because I am supposed to be doing this on my own. I wanted to be someone. I did all the work haven’t I?! I thought life was going to be easier because high school was so crappy. What happened!?

“In everything you do, put God first, and he will direct you and crown your efforts with success.”   -Proverbs 3:6

I know what happened. Hi God, it’s me Joanne and I am terribly sorry for putting You on the back burner. You are the reason why I studied hard and stayed away from the wrong crowd in high school. You are the reason why I worked so hard to get my scholarship to STU. You are the reason why I am lucky to be born in a first world country where females are allowed to further their education. You are the reason why I have a job in the first place and not homeless, hungry, with no shelter.

I cannot live day to day without You. It’s obvious. Relying on myself everyday to accomplish my goals will lead to failure every time because I am not seeing the miracles that You are creating in my life. I should be grateful not comparing myself to everyone else. God- help me to put You first…. I want to be successful in YOUR name NOT mine.

My Testimony

“And he did not permit him but said to him, ‘Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.'”          -Mark 5:19

I’ve sugar coated my testimony so many times I lost track, not only of how many white lies I’ve created but also whether the actual story was fact or fiction. I don’t like to share my past. It wasn’t pretty. It didn’t have white picket fences, a full bank account or a homecoming queen tiara. I was pretty much a loner. You couldn’t say I was invisible. I wish. At least that way the bullies couldn’t find me and call me names or sarcastically invite me to parties because they knew just how much I wanted to be included in something. Anything.

I grew up in a very small town in rural Nova Scotia. There were 30-some graduates in my high school class. We grew up together. We knew each others names, parents, siblings, and what they did after school. You would think with such a small class it wouldn’t have been difficult to make friends. Well, you’d be flat out wrong. I was the outcast, the nerd, the Bible hugger. If anyone wanted to befriend me to the group then it would make the whole group a target for bullying. If I floated or wasn’t seen hanging out with one particular group or person then everyone was safe. This made lunch hour hell.

The bullying started when I was 12, a junior in grade 6. This is the year you start to like boys, become more independent, and cause a lot of trouble. But I was a good kid. I didn’t skip class or make trouble in school or get grounded. I made awesome grades, studied really hard and volunteered. I even took piano lessons and was a member of 4H. I was the poster child for a goody-goody. Goody-goody’s don’t get a lot of attention from the opposite sex at 12. Goody-goody’s don’t make a lot of friends either. No one wanted to hang out with me anymore. They didn’t like my clothes. They didn’t like my hair. They didn’t like my teeth. They didn’t like my favorite bands or actors or movies. They made up any excuse not to hang out with me or make fun of me for trying.

I remember one occurence as if it happened yesterday. The popular girls asked me to be their choreographer for the school talent show. They wanted to dance to a Christina Aguilera song and wanted me to help them! I was so ecstatic! I love to dance and this could be my opportunity to fit in!

I practiced hard in my room, dancing to “Genie in a Bottle” in front of my mirror and daydreaming. I made up a whole routine for them in a few days and I couldn’t wait to show them. When the time came to teach them the routine they pretended to like it for half of the lunch break. They basically humored me and egged me on. Then the leader of the pack shouted-

“THIS SUCKS! I want to do something else. Who wants to do a vote?”

“YEAH!!!” Everyone shouted back in laughter.

They told me to wait outside of the music room doors while they did a  “vote” on whether I should stay in the group. When I came back in they told me everyone said they didn’t like me or the dance or anything I created and that it sucked. They laughed even harder.

I was absolutely crushed. I cried on the bus ride home, ran up to my room and slammed my bedroom door. My mom hates it when I slam the door. This particular day she didn’t shout back up the stairs to tell me not to do it again. She just left me alone.

The bullying and name calling didn’t stop when I went into high school. If anything it got worse because now they knew more “mature” insults like slut, whore, and bitch. And once those words were used they started making up their own insults. How creative of them.

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.
-2 Timothy 1:7

The only thing that saved me through junior and senior high was God’s grace and His gift of a Christian family. They know the true meaning of being God-like and they took me in when I needed to belong.

One summer afternoon, as I was hanging up clothes on the line, a family walked up to our house to introduce themselves because they were new to the neighborhood and wanted to know if my sister and I would join a youth group every Friday night to hangout with kids our age and have fun. My mom thought it would be a good idea for us to meet new people and allowed us to go.

The couple have a daughter the exact same age as me and we bonded instantly- like lost sisters finally meeting again at last! We acted like your typical teenage girls. We gossiped, talked about boys, wondered what being an adult would be like, and how we were going to survive high school. She invited me to the church her dad was a pastor at and I fell in love.

The youth group took us to many rallies at churches all over the Atlantic provinces. One weekend in May we went to Moncton to a Springforth event, one of the largest Christian youth rallies at that time in New Brunswick. It was a fun weekend full of live music, worship, work shops and I felt ALIVE. My eyes were open to the love and worthiness of Christ. I wanted to know EVERYTHING about Him and why He would die for me?

I gave my life to Christ that weekend and asked Him to be my personal Savior. I hated feeling alone. I hated feeling like I wasn’t worthy of anything and that no one cared about me. I forgot about the bullies because I knew that His love for me was greater than any name they could call me. But best of all- HE WILL NEVER LEAVE ME NOR FORSAKE ME.

A year or two went past and it was time for the family to move onto bigger and better things. I was very sad. I didn’t know how I could continue to be a Christian without them. I didn’t have anyone to hang out with and talk openly about God. I was both sad that they were leaving but also petrified that my life was going to be turned upside down- I lost faith in Christ. I thought i was a Christian because I went to church and told God to come into my life and that I had my friends to push me through. Little did I know that I didn’t KNOW God. I just thought I did.

One day I came home to an empty house. My sister was at a friends place or getting extra help with a teach after school. My parents were off doing errands. I felt utterly alone because I had no one to tell them how dreadful school was. I was getting bullied again, school was tough, I didn’t have a boyfriend when I felt like everyone else did, I didn’t feel like I belonged, I didn’t know who I was. I WAS DONE. I wanted the pain to evaporate.

I went to my room and I grabbed a razor. I snapped the head off it and looked up to God and said, “If you are real and if you are listening please help me.”

I turned my head and went to cut myself but came face to face with a photo of my friend who brought me to Christ staring back at me. I couldn’t hurt myself in front of her smiling back at me. I was too ashamed.

So I turned back the other way but this time it hit me like a tonne of bricks. I came face to face with my Bible. I dropped the razor, grabbed my Bible laid out on my bed and read for what felt like hours. I cried and prayed and read until I fell asleep.

I met Christ at the end of a razor. That’s my testimony. I wish it could have been a nicer picture like a scene on a beach at Bible camp or surrounded by family at church but it didn’t happen that way. I kept asking God throughout my life why me? Why did I have to go through such a painful childhood?

The answer, though painful, is also quite beautiful.

Because you would not have found my grace otherwise. You would not have known me otherwise. You would not have asked me to be your Savior otherwise.

Thank you- You are truly Holy.

“I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”   -Philippians 4:13

 

 

 

From the beginning….

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”     -Matthew 6:34

To start things off on my blog I guess you might want to know the reason behind its name: pull me together. Well, it started on a Saturday night hanging out with my girlfriends at Starbucks during Bible study. Our conversation usually sidetracks to our personal lives: relationships, hair appointments, jobs, and roommates. My newly adopted friend, Liz was talking to Tara, discussing her worries on employment and how she was concerned about her future at the newspaper they both work for.

“Trust me, they like you Liz. You have nothing to worry about”, Tara assured her.

“Oh but you don’t know that. Am I writing enough!? Am I doing enough stories, because like, is five stories over the weekend enough!?” Liz would reply.

I was pretty quiet during the hour long conversation other than a few words of encouragement directed to Liz. I don’t know their bosses. I’ve never worked for a newspaper. How should I know whether five stories a weekend is a good or bad thing? Liz noticed that I was being quiet so she ended the conversation by looking at me and saying, “You have like everything pulled together!”

I almost snorted out my chai latte all over my laptop.

It’s not really Liz’s fault to assume that I have “everything pulled together”. There is a reason why I have drama masks tattooed to my back. I am a pretty good actress, especially fooling my friends that everything is alright with my world even though I am screaming inside. I most certainly do not have my life pulled together. My life, seriously, hasn’t even begun…

I dread the question “How do you see yourself in 5, 10, 20 years from now?” When I was 8 years old I had no doubt in my mind- I wanted to be a novelist when I grew up. I wanted to write books and poetry and have New York Bestsellers! I wanted the fame of being the next J.K. Rowling. What 8 year old loved to write let alone know the word novelist?

I was raised in a small village in Nova Scotia, only recently famous due to all of its women leaving for a CBC documentary, with my mom, dad, and little sister. Mom, knowing how difficult it would be to become a famous writer she told me I should look into becoming a journalist instead. I felt like I had a new purpose in life: I love acting and being in front of a large audience and I love to write. Being a reporter meant EVERYTHING to me.

I studied hard throughout high school. I received the highest honors but I was never popular, didn’t have a lot of friends, was constantly bullied, and hated being smart. There is once instance where I remember praying to God, “Why couldn’t I be dumb and popular like the rest of them? Why me?”

But God pushed me through high school, barely, but I made it and I was accepted into St. Thomas University. I studied just as hard, made numerous friends, and became the life of the party. I felt like my life was finally on track. I was going to become that famous reporter, travel the world, and have everyone back home who made fun of me jealous and wishing they were me.

Both Tara and Liz graduated from St. Thomas University as well, both with Journalism degrees. Both have jobs at the local newspaper. One lady works for Global, another for CBC. As for me … I work full time as an assistant manager in a male dominated industry, surrounded by electronics I don’t find particularly interesting at the mall. Where has my dream gone?

I’ll admit it. I can be jealous of my girlfriends finding jobs within their field. I feel as though I worked just as hard in school and looked just as hard for a job but I just never made the cut. This frustrates me so badly it hurts. I did everything right, didn’t I? I worked really hard in school and made good grades. I didn’t do drugs and I wasn’t a huge party person. I volunteered for the school newspaper and worked for two internships. I thought I did really well!! I worked so hard! For what?! A full time job at the mall?!

The past few weeks have been tough. Knowing I couldn’t work with electronics anymore I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t afford to freelance at newspapers and there have been so many cutbacks in the journalism industry I knew it would be tough to get a job. What else could I do? What else am I good at? It’s not like I don’t like working retail or have no interest in business, I just have no interest in gadgets. I am a girly girl! I love fashion and makeup and shoes!! God, could you please help and provide me with that? I surrender. My career path is in Your hands. I tried doing it by myself and got nowhere. You obviously have a different plan for me.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” –Proverbs 3:5-6

 One day, during lunch on a 12-hour shift, I walked by my friend Sacha’s store. We normally wave to one another if I walk by but today she waved me to come inside.

“Hey, were you looking for a new job by any chance?” Sacha asked.

“Kind of. It’s not that I don’t like my job I’m just not fond of gadgets anymore. I need something new.”

“We might have a job opening up and with your knowledge on fashion I think you will really like it.”

Thank you Sacha! Things finally started to look good for me. Only problem was I’d be making less money and I am planning on attending business school in the fall. Great. Just perfect.

I am now stuck again. Do I take the new job and have no money for school, rent, bills, food, etc. but love what I do? Or, do I keep my current job and be miserable but have money? Ya, totally sounds like I have life pulled together.

It took a weekend of worshiping God with Tara at the East to West festival and a whole week of nothing but panic attacks, prayer, crying, discussing with my husband and being downright miserable to realize this:

God would not have given me this opportunity if it wasn’t a part of His journey for me. He will never give me something that I cannot handle. He only wants the best for me and His path is the one I want to follow.

So, I took the job and in two weeks’ time I get to work in a clothing store as a team leader. I’m not going to make as much there as I used to at my old job but it’s a start. I love fashion and I hope I get to grow and maybe one day work for district management or home office. I’m excited about the future but it took a lot of trust to give up one thing to experience a different pathway.

One thing God may have pulled together for me, but my life is still not totally put together. But everything else can wait for another day …..