Part 1: Discouragement is an uphill battle.

Discouragement is a hard thing to cure.

In fact, I'm not absolutely convinced that it can be "cured".

I have been extremely discouraged for about as long as I can remember.

From Tenth Avenue North's song, "Worn"

Discouraged for various reasons, though. It seems as if as soon as I am finished being discouraged in one aspect of my life, discouragement comes in another shape, form, subject, whatever you call it. And very rarely have I ever truly felt encouraged.

I HAVE had people try to encourage me, and I genuinely appreciate their effort, but sometimes it is as if discouragement is unaffected by words. As if it doesn't understand human language.

Growing up there were/are so many aspects about myself that I have disliked but couldn't change. This has always been a huge source of my discouragement.

I've always been bored to yawns by my name. "Hannah" ... it is just so boring. That's not the name of a great artist, or novelist, or anyone epic... Just some woman who was barren in the Bible. (Yeah, yeah, I know, she had Samuel)

I absolutely hated being my current size at the age of 12. I have matured to fit my weight and height now, but at the time I was this straight, thick, acne covered girl with braces and a big forehead. Needless to say, I am still an incredibly awkward person, unfortunately I am able to hide that fact just enough so that when I first meet people they can't tell, then as they "get to know me" I come off as obnoxious and creepy. Furtherly needless to say, I've always (probably even more so now than then) had trouble making real friends. I do not mean to offend anyone I know, I know a lot of people. But I do not have anyone I can think of that I could wake up in the middle of the night if I really needed someone to talk to.

I started attending college courses when I was 16 and graduated high school with over 30 college credits. I wanted in my heart to major in art with the possibility of a specialization in illustration. But a few things have stood in my way. 1. Being a complete lack in artistic talent. I'm not saying I'm a horrible artist, I'm just being honest. I am not talented at art. I am talented with creativity. And I am a creative person who wants to fine tune my "ability" (because everyone has the ability to do something if they try hard enough) and combine it with my imaginative and creative thinking to create art. However, unless you're truly talented a degree in "Studio Art" probably won't land you a job. Which leads me to the second reason I didn't major in art. 2. My parents weren't thrilled with the idea. Now, don't misunderstand me, my parents did not forbid me from majoring in Studio Art, but I have followed their suggestion and chosen "Graphic Design." Something that is more likely to have job oppertunities after graduation.

Ironically, the Graphic Design program at UCF is much more prestigious than their "Studio Art" degree, so I have to take a whole 'nother year of courses to create a portfolio to submit in the spring of 2015 and MAYBE they will accept me into their "very competitive" program. Meanwhile, as I take full course load and balance three dirty jobs that barely offer 11 hours of work a week, Bob here gets a full paid scholarship... because he was public schooled, and his parents could afford hundreds of dollars worth of tutoring for the SAT. Did you know that homeschoolers have to score higher on the SAT than public or private schoolers for the same benefits? (That's a whole other rant, though)

(Note: Bob is a made up generic person)

But seriously, who am I kidding?? After all of this hard work that MIGHT pay off I'm not even really going to want to get a job at all! I'll really just want to get married, have a family, and be a stay at home mom. You don't need a degree to do that! You don't need a job to do that. I don't even have to finish college to get married.

What's worse is that the older I get the more the possibility of finding a suitable Godly young man is shrinking.

I know what you're thinking.. I'm over reacting at the age of 19 that I'll never get married. Yes, I am. But with good reason. My mom was married when she was my age. And the dwindling amount of guys who not only can look past all of my weirdness and want to pursue me, but also want to settle down and raise a family with a million and two kids, on top of adopting every abandoned child we meet along the way as well as homeschool them all AND be mature enough to support that family?? Those men just don't exist. And IF they do exist, they are either not single or have already met their future wife on christianmingle or at a homeschool convention. I suppose I should have attended more of those growing up.

I am not saying there aren't Godly young men in the world. I know many very amiable Christian men. My predicament lies in that they either have no interest in me, or have no interest in the ministries God has put quite heavily on my heart, or that we cannot agree on aspects of theology or morals past that. Although it is not a need to agree on everything, there are quite honestly a few things that NEED to be agreed on, such as birth-control, and other aspects that would immediately effect a marriage and family life.

So, when I finally graduate,what will my options be? I, quite honestly, have not a single (or married) fudgepuddling clue. Every time I turn around God has thrown another obstacle in my path without hint of what He wants me to do or where He would have me go.

You may not believe this, but I will go wherever He tells me to. He just has to tell me!

I do not say all of this to throw a pity party. Trust me, those are just cold and lonely. As a girl growing up I had to move past what others thought of me.

We already addressed that I had the "awkward years" of a toad and was extremely discouraged by the way I was perceived by others. However, God did show me (when I was 16) that it literally doesn't mean a single thing to Him about what other people think of me. That I was beautifully made by Him. Beautifully. I still feel to this day though, that mirrors must distort what we see. Because I don't always feel "beautiful" despite the fact that He tells me I am. I have days where I want to hide the plushness of my stomach behind random objects because the world says that if you have a pudge at all, you're fat. I still have days where I don't want to interact with human beings at all for fear of breaking down in tears without any legible reason... I'm such a girl.

However, what I hope to illustrate to anyone who has the guts to read this all of the way through is that I am my worst critic. Period.

Most people would argue to me that I am really thin, that I am gorgeous, that I am artistically talented, and so on.

Yet none of those opinions matter to me, ... because I know it is only what God thinks that matters. The only voice I can never block out is my own. I can block out the world. I can block out you. I cannot block my own over opinionated thoughts of myself.

Again, I am not trying to throw a pity party, please bear with my nonsensical and endless jabbering. Because I hope to show that in all of this constant discouragement that I receive daily from MYSELF,  God is not silent. Perhaps not always loud. But not silent.

To be continued.