Hello, I suppose.  So, I'm not sure how qualified I am for this (hardly qualified at all, probably), but I am called to share my testimony, and therefore, I will.  I also want to have a reminder of my journey with my Father, even if it is not complete yet.  Oh, and, little warning, I'm pretty explicit about things regarding sexual abuse, so please be aware of that.

So.  That being said, let's start at the beginning.

I was born into a Christian home in El Paso, Texas on November 4, 2004.  I only stayed there for two/three years before we moved to Ohio, about two weeks after my little brother was born.  I also have two older siblings, one sister, one brother.  We moved around for a while and at one point lived with my grandparents.  I don't remember much about that, just that I tried to go to school with my older siblings once.  Eventually, we moved to West Virginia, where we settled for- so far- 11/12 years.  Our family started going to the Vineyard, where my mom volunteered to watch kids during the services.

That's the earliest interaction/experience I remember having with Christianity, and I don't remember much about it.  I don't remember how I felt about it, and I only remember bits and pieces, like a teacher I didn't really like or being allowed to man the presentation or watch kids only a couple years younger than me because my mom worked there.  I also want to Awanas, a local youth group, which I don't think I liked any better.  I know I was afraid of the stairs, I had one or two friends, and learning verses was stressful, but I didn't hate it.  I think I enjoyed it, actually.  My introverted personality didn't really mesh with all the other kids or the forced social interaction.  I always had insecurities and doubts/questions and fears when it came to God and Christianity, and the day I first put my faith in God, I thought I'd messed it up because I kept saying it over and over and thought if I said it an even number of times it wasn't valid, and then I forgot if I'd said it an odd or even number of times.

I was a weird, angry, aggressive, and messed up kid.  Not very smart, too.  Eventually, I guess I just forgot about it, and went on about my life.

Don't get me wrong, I always believed in God.  I always have and I always will (because I grew up in a Christian home and that's all I was ever taught, which was very, very good.  That, and, since then, I've had personal experiences with Him.  I just don't think I was brought up 100% the right way, because a fear was instilled in me that is still affecting me today, and is partially hindering my relationship with God), but I didn't take my faith very seriously.  I didn't really get the whole 'relationship' aspect of Christianity, and I always thought it was a set of rules I had to follow.

When I started school, I didn't have very many friends because of my introverted personality.  Eventually, I made three friends.  For privacy reasons, I'm just using letters for their names.  K, who's still my friend today.  R, who moved a few years later, and F, who would become a toxic person and who abused me mentally and physically.  She was a good friend when we were really young, but about two years later, she started to mentally abuse me by making me feel guilty when I went home from her house and made me feel bad when the games we played didn't go her way or I didn't believe her lies.  I suffered a lot of mental abuse from her, and it probably affected my relationships with other people, because I thought everyone hated me, and I started seeking attention from everyone, despite the fact that I didn't like them.  I drew to get attention, I read big books to get attention, and I'd purposely look as sad as I could to get people to notice me.

Before I go on, I want to say that I have forgiven her.  I don't hold anything that she did against her, because who am I to condemn her when God didn't condemn me for what I did?

I do want to mention that I had depression.  I had really, really bad depression, and by the time I was in fifth grade, I wanted to kill myself.  The only thing that kept me from it was knowing that God loved me.  Not all of it was me pretending, and not all of it was my stubborn self.

Anyway, eventually, I'd use my drawing and writing and reading for other things, but first, I need to discuss one more thing.  Remember how I said that F was toxic?  Well, she abused me- and K, too- in a really, really bad way.  I found out what sex was way too young because she forced me to watch a video of two men raping a girl.  I was about ten at that point.  It really, really disgusted me, but I watched it because she threatened me, and I believed her threat.

Years passed, and I kept going to church.  Eventually, we stopped going to Awanas, but we kept up going to the vineyard. (Random side note, I remember getting this cute little sheep made out of strings and beads at Awanas.  I took it apart because I thought I could put it back together, but then I couldn't, and I was very upset about it.)  Still, I always believed in God, but the fear and the guilt got worse.  I hit maybe twelve or thirteen, and I honestly don't remember how I felt about God at that point.  I know I believed in Him, and I know I felt guilty when I messed up, and I wanted to grow in my faith, but I either just didn't or couldn't because I didn't know how.  I started to go to 180- a youth group for middle and high schoolers-, and at that point, I was being homeschooled, and I was finally breaking off a very, very toxic friendship.  180, I do want to point out, was like a weekly therapy session that I am so glad God put into my life, because without it, I'd be so much worse than I am now.  I also eventually went back to public school, which might have been a mistake.

Anyway, eventually I began to very much mishandled the sexual abuse, and I started indulging in sexual sin through reading, writing and drawing bad things, among other things.  But that is where this part ends, and we move into the next section of my life.