Anniversary

Forgive my emotional posts lately. 

It's been almost a year since I entered the Convent.

I've gone through a lot of things since then.

Entering.
Being spiritually tormented.
Leaving.
Being spiritually tormented.
Coming home to nothing.
Being spiritually tormented.
Finding a job.
Being spiritually tormented.
Leaving that job.
Being spiritually tormented.
Moving to Albany.
Being spiritually tormented.
Starting my new job.
Being spiritually tormented.

Things are always adding to and taking away from my spiritual torment. I suppose that's part of the Christian journey. But some things hurt more than others.

When I came home from the Convent, it was excruciatingly hard to face people again. Some comments that hurt to this day include "So, you didn't like it after all?" and "You'll regret leaving." Ouch, man.

People don't understand.

But things hurt even when they're not from ignorant people who don't know the Religious life. I've been in a lot of pain due to things that have been done, albeit probably neither premeditated nor intended. I was cropped out of the Sisters' profile picture. I get it, I'm not in the Convent any more. But all that remains of me on the FaceBook page is my left arm. I hid my pain really well at first. I found that while on break at work, and tried to make a joke out of it. It's funny, right? I mean, how many people can say they've been cropped out of a convent's FaceBook profile picture? That makes me a badass, right? No, it makes me a blubbering ex-postulant.

A friend of mine that I met while at the Convent messaged me the other day. "When are you going to come and visit?" I really didn't want to answer but I did. "I don't know." It didn't stop. My torment continued. "Do you want to come to the Bazaar?" This is the same Bazaar that I took part in last year, the weekend after I entered. I helped Sr. Christopher Margaret with the corn dog stand. All I could think was, No. I don't. No no no no no....

People don't understand how hard it is.

Visiting and thinking about the Sisters is more painful than pretending like those two months of my life didn't happen. I visited them a few times after I left, but have since stopped. The last time I saw the Sisters was when their students celebrated Confirmation. A friend and I drove out to see the Sacrament, and the feeling I got being there was that I was not welcome. The Sisters didn't mean it, and I'm sure they didn't know that's how I felt. But I felt like people were looking at me, the girl who left. All I could think was, all the other girls that had come and gone through the Convent (and there were plenty) never visit, and I wonder if that's why. 

People just don't understand.

I've been hanging out with that group of Hispanic Catholic women lately. They invited me over for a get-together and Faith Sharing. The assignment was to find a reading or verse (a lectura) in the Bible and give a testimony about your life according to that verse.

I'll be honest. My prayer life has been beyond wimpy. I've been hiding from God. It just hurts too much to face Him Who put me through all of this.

So I spoke about my time discerning my vocation based off of Isaiah 12:2

I spoke about how I trusted God for three years as I discerned the Religious life, how I trusted Him while in the Convent, and how I trusted Him as I left. But I felt like I was reading out of someone else's story. I feel a lack of trust in God. Where is He bringing me? Speaking honestly, I'm afraid of where He's leading me. The last year, although full of growth, has brought me so much pain. It hurts to talk to God, to tell Him how badly I hurt. I find it hard to spend time in silence with Him. I don't want to think about this.

I don't know why I'm writing this, and I certainly don't understand why I feel compelled to hit Publish. I guess it's partly because I know that very few people know what it's like. It hurts.

I haven't told anyone at my new job that I was in the Convent. I know that as soon as someone learns that fact about me, that they will always look at me as the girl who used to be a nun. There's no getting around that.

Will I ever find love? Will I ever be able to move past the fact that I failed at being a Sister? Will I ever get out of this constant spiritual torment? Will I ever be able to talk to God like I used to, to bare my heart to Him and know that He loves me and has a plan for me? Will I ever be able to accept that plan?

I don't know.