“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” Psalm 118:22.
These familiar words from the Liturgy of the Hours came back to me one quiet Saturday afternoon while watching a movie. In these moments, I need to take a breath, slow down and fight to calm the triggering thoughts of unwanted anxiety.
I was back in the chapel as a novice with my breviary resting in my lap trying not to attract the attention of the Mistress of Novices. Somehow, I knew a lecture was coming, and this would mean that our supper would be even later, because when Mother Vicar started talking, she never stopped. I can hear her now starting in Italian, “Quando Davide ha scritte queste parole.” I carefully shifted in my seat as I tuned her out, something I learned how to do early on in religious life. As her voice droned on, I got the sense that none of my other fellow novices were listening, and even saw an eye roll out of the corner of my eye. At a certain point the vicar began calling us out, making our simple faults known, with an exaggeration as if they would ban us to hell. She even reassured us that these public humiliations were for our own good. In reality she thrived on embarrassing us. She relished in seeing our eyes fill up with tears and resentment, only to bring us down again. We were convinced that somehow the acknowledgements of these venial sins would bring us closer to God and save us. She even instructed us to take this seriously and to learn to “think outside of oneself” as so many of the older sisters have mastered. With the joyful mood diminished in the chapel, we stood and finished Vespers, which was to be immediately followed by supper. Being a Saturday meant that we would be having recreation at meal in place of the usual silence. After the harsh admonishments we were expected to put all of the hurt aside and attend dinner with a smile on our faces. The mother mistress was standing there with a superficial glow of pride on her face. It was an artificial triumph, that really reminded me of a five year old that just got her way. These events were typical during my formative years of the convent. As difficult as they were, I stayed in the order for twelve years. If you told me when I was a postulant that I would one day leave the religious life I would have not believed you. It was this kind of brainwashing that kept me going. I was wholeheartedly convinced that I was a horrible sinner. I was striving for the Kingdom of Heaven but because I placed a glass on the wrong side of the cupboard my heart was closed to the voice of God. Religious life is supposed to be lived in community, not a dictatorship. Our Mother Foundress along with a lot of the early founding sisters were master manipulators. Our superiors were very harsh in the way they treated others. To say that the formators were cruel would be an understatement. There were many nights that we would cry ourselves to sleep. Others were filled with fear and stress as we watched the hours tick by terrified of what was to come in the morning. Yet despite all of this, I persevered in convincing myself to offer it up to save souls.
I left the convent twelve years ago with a bleeding heart. Over time the wounds have healed but the scars will always be there. I am now able to look at the time as a blessing, and the good things that have come out of it. I am now ready to openly share my story. In writing down my own personal experiences, I want to bring awareness to the realities of consecrated life. There are many of us out there that share this pain and longing for something that is not meant to be. It takes more strength to leave the convent, than it does to enter. At times, I still question myself if I made the right decision. I will always feel as if something is missing, like a rose mourning the loss of it’s petals as it’s roots prepare themselves for the first frost of the season. This is a wound that many of us share in secret for different, personal reasons. How can entering the religious life be the will of God, only to discover that we are also meant to leave it? These questions may never be answered, but in the meantime I will to continue to walk along the path, embracing the future with joy and peace.