It was during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic that I left the religious life…not of my own accord. Despite the abuse that I endured at the hands of my novice directress, the glimpse that I received of religious life, for a few short moments, was beautiful, and I loved it with every fiber of my being. I will always remember my first apostolate at the Cathedral-Basilica of Sts. Peter and Paul and the wondrous feeling of serving God’s people, especially the elderly parishioners in nursing homes, and assisting the Rector in various capacities within the parish.
It was four years ago that my heart was broken into a million pieces, and I am still trying to figure out how to put them all back together. I move forward, going through the motions each day. At the surface all is well; when someone asks me how I am, I respond with an affirmative “fine.” The reality though is that I am not “fine”—as one of my friends always says, “I am surviving.”
There are moments in the stillness of night that my heart begins to ache, and the tears stream down with the memories of it all on a continuous loop. It is a type of hurt that is always there, a wound that never truly heals. It is not grief in the same way someone loses a loved one, but a unique kind of grief—the loss of a vocation.
Sometimes the pain of it all is so great that I can barely breathe. The agony caused by such a loss is much more than I can put into words. It’s a feeling of loss that most people simply cannot understand because it is not relatable to them. I have had priests try to relate my circumstance to their own vocational journey in an attempt to connect with me. However, the reality is that despite their period of profound grief, at the end of the day, they did not lose their vocation.
There are grief support groups for those who have lost a loved one; there are Catholic bereavement groups, too. But they’re not for this kind of grief—in my experience, priests and Catholic laity become defensive when it comes to speaking of religious sisters in a negative light. Perhaps it is due to the priest scandals. As a result, the romanticized image of the holy nuns in their beautiful habits is held tightly within the bosom of the Church. They must be “the good ones,” without spot or blemish, the innocent lambs. They cannot possibly be wolves in sheep’s clothing.
I have gone several times to a grief support group with a friend of mine at a nearby Protestant community, but how can Protestants understand the loss of a religious vocation? How can I share my loss without causing scandal? I can only sit there and say nothing.
It is tiresome and difficult to always put on a smile, to give the illusion that everything is “fine.” For comfort, I often reflect upon the words of the Blessed Virgin Mary at Lourdes, speaking to St. Bernadette: “I cannot promise you happiness in this world, only the next.”
Still, the loss of my vocation to the religious life stays with me. Although we receive the universal call to holiness at our Baptism, is it possible that some of us are chosen to live as a single person in the world, not to live a “state of life” as a priest, religious, or married person? Is this our Cross, to not be permitted to live out any of the particular “states in life?” Is it by our suffering of not knowing where we fit in the Church that we attain holiness?
I am reminded of such thoughts during the Prayers of the Faithful, as we ask for an increase of vocations to the priesthood, religious life, and marriage. Where do I belong in the Church as a single woman who lost her vocation to the religious life? Sometimes I wonder if the Church even wants me since I do not check any of the boxes for a particular “state in life.”
I do find comfort in speaking with other former religious who have shared with me that they too have the same question and struggle with having a vocation that must remain dormant within them due to current circumstances in the religious life. I will not spend the rest of my life being abused again and again by religious sisters.
Singleness due to a lost vocation to the religious life is a foreign concept to the majority of Catholics. However, the Church does acknowledge those who are single in her teachings:
We must also remember the great number of single persons who, because of the particular circumstances in which they have to live—often not of their choosing—are especially close to Jesus’ heart and therefore deserve the special affection and active solicitude of the Church, especially of pastors. (CCC 1658)
Let us pray for all of those who are grieving this unique kind of loss, and that one day there will be more support provided by the Church for those who lost their vocation to the religious life, especially due to abuse taking place behind the convent walls.
Photo by Axel Holen on Unsplash
