Thursday, December 5, 2013

Refusal to Accept Life as I Found It





In the ‘50s I listened as Nat King Cole sang “Smile.”
That song influenced my whole way of looking at life
when I was young and wanted to please everyone.

In the fall of this year, I posted a series of stories about my introductory teaching assignment after making first vows as a scholastic in January 1960. The memories of that Omaha classroom are unclouded in my mind. I’ve never forgotten those seventh graders who challenged both my mind and my heart.
         But the years after that—in Seneca, Kansas City, and Baileyville—are not as memorable because not as challenging. I have little memory of the students I taught from the fall of 1960 through the spring of 1966 because the truth really is that the squeaky wheel gets the oil and almost all the students in my subsequent classes were eager to learn and to please. The seventh graders in Omaha had been “squeaky wheels.” As such, they were unforgettable.
         In the fall of 1961, the mother superior of Mount Saint Scholastica Convent assigned me to the Seneca, Kansas, mission. My memories of the students and the classroom there are dim. What I do remember clearly, however, is my surprise at the discovery of just how human nuns could be and were. I remember that and also how hard I worked to shape my negative impressions into a positive image.


In the ‘40s I’d heard Bing Crosby and the Andrew Sisters sing this song.
Its emphasis on the positive influenced my outlook on life
until I found myself falling apart when I was in my forties.

         At that time, the Mount convent housed more than six hundred nuns. I knew only a few of them from my college days and from my eighteen months in the novitiate. Still, I habitually refused to acknowledge any evidence that didn’t support the romantic, unrealistic, and erroneous view I had of the convent and of religious vocations. For Sister Innocence of the Order of Saint Benedict, nuns were called to be saints and so they were. They  had to be or my carefully constructed view of life would come tumbling down.
         The nuns in Omaha had not dissuaded me from that view. Sister Brendan, the superior there, was everything I thought a superior should be. But a handful of nuns and the superior in Seneca were an entirely different matter. I judged them, rather harshly.
         I judged rather than simply accept that any group of people is going to be mixed in every way. There will be healers, peacemakers, gossips, malingers. There will be the compassionate, joyous, generous, kind, helpful, brilliant, gleeful, curious, prayerful, gentle, shy, and unassuming. There will also be the vengeful, obsequious, gossipy, ashamed, guilt-ridden, embittered, nosy, domineering, self-serving, gregarious, judgmental, imperious, selfish, mean, self-centered,  self-absorbed, and depressed.
         There will be, that is, all the human traits that we meet everywhere, in every group. Those traits might be muted by the life of service the nuns have chosen, but the traits—whether admirable or not—are ingrained and do not disappear with the making of vows.  
         In the first weeks of my life in Seneca, I knew I was judging others. That wasn’t, I thought, the way a nun should act. And so in an attempt to mend and reverse the judgments in my mind, I found all sorts of reasons for why the superior and the nuns would act the way they did. Rather then accept their humanity, I twisted my thoughts into a skein of knots. I made my own reality.




In the ‘50s Nat King Cole encouraged all of us to “Pretend.”
 I learned to do that very well when I was young.

         Next Thursday I hope to share with you some of the very human traits I found on that mission. Traits I refused to accept. Instead I concentrated on my own judgmental attitude and found myself despicable.
         Thus I began to travel the path that led to my leaving on Christmas Eve of 1966. I left broken, not so much by the convent but by my own struggle to create nirvana in the midst of the gathering of humanity in which I found myself.
         It wasn’t so much that I found the nuns and the convent wanting. It was that I found myself so far short of perfection. And that, my friends, was my undoing—the belief that to be loved one must be perfect.

54 comments:

  1. Don't laugh, but you remind me of an observation of my mother's, way back in the forties, concerning my aunt, IHM. Mother Superior had arranged an outing for the house, at a roller skating rink. For some reason we saw Aunt Ruth very soon thereafter, and she proceeded to describe the event for us. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, she had been flying. She had a wonderful time. Later on I hear mom say to dad, "So that's how they disperse all the emotions."
    I'm sorry you missed the roller skating parties, said with absolutely no disrespect. You've had some road, from there to here. Please keep writing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Joanne, the Benedictines at that time were a fairly "strict" order and the Atchison Benedictines where I entered had the reputations among all the Benedictine houses of being the strictest.So there truly wasn't a lot of fun and games and the postings I'll do in the new year will reveal that. And yet, I will never regret entering the convent. It helped make me the woman I am today. Peace.

      Delete
  2. I think it would be very difficult NOT to expect that nuns are perfect.

    Love,
    Janie

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Janie, I think you are probably right. My problem was that even though in grade and high school I saw indications that the Sisters of Mercy--a fine teaching order--had some nuns who were not kind, I still didn't let into my heart and mind any evidence of that. I simply fazed out anything that didn't fit my preconceived notion of perfectly saintly! Peace.

      Delete
  3. Oh Dee. Such a hard road, with so many stones in the way. And if we are being honest most of us have put the biggest obstacles in our own way. Certainly the hardest to see around, let alone work around.
    Hugs.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear EC, it seems to me from talking with so many women over the years of my life that we all have a lot of stones, pebbles, and even boulders on our path. I so agree with you that we ourselves put up the biggest obstacles--those boulders--and that putting things in perspective with such obstacles in our hearts and minds is always difficult. Peace.

      Delete
  4. Those traits seem to be within us all indeed, nun or not

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Pat, yes, that's so true but it took me so many years to really see this and to understand it and to embrace the truth you've written. Peace.

      Delete
  5. We are all human and all imperfect. I try to check on my imperfections from ttime to time and that keeps me busy.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Munir, your comment brought a broad smile to my face. I also used to be kept busy examining my imperfections. But now I've just accepted them as part of the who I am. And I've come to the point of saying, "Take it or leave it--this is me!" Peace.

      Delete
  6. "It was that I found myself so far short of perfection. " That is a universal problem and a profound reflection.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Susan, so true. It is a universal problem and it took me so many years to recognize it as such and not feel that I was indeed the most despicable person alive. Peace.

      Delete
  7. I so enjoy your recollections, both positive and negative. I hope you are learning as much from this journey as I am! :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear DJan, I truly am learning a lot about myself and others with this online memoir. It takes me about three hours to compost a story each Thursday and while doing that I am experiencing what I'm writing about. I've opened my heart to these memories and I'm learning so much from them.

      And when readers like yourself comment, I learn even more about what it means to be human. Such a great gift all of you give me each week. Peace.

      Delete
  8. Dear Dee,

    You bore the scars of being an abused child, and like many children who have suffered similar horrors, you blamed yourself. You have lived quite a life and have been through so much pain but you have used that to help so many others. Perfection can never be achieved, but strength of character,compassion, and a kind heart is much more meaningful and needed in this world.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Arleen, you know I seldom--except when I'm writing a specific story about my childhood--think of myself as someone who was abused. But it's so true that I blamed myself for what the neighbor did in his car to me when I was in the fifth grade. And I also blamed myself for my father's drinking and for his abuse of my mother when he was under the influence of whiskey.

      The last sentence of your comment seems so wise to me. But then you are such a clear-sighted viewer of life. And you see far and wee. Peace.

      Delete
  9. Your childhood & early life was difficult, but I'm grateful for whatever made you YOU!! As Billy Joel sang, "I Love You Just the Way You Are".



    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Fishducky, thank you for your kind words. I've come in the past three or four years to love myself the way I am also. Such a big step for me. It took nearly eight decades, but I've finally said, "You know, Dee Ready, you're a pretty good human being!" And then I grin and feel a little silly. But content also. Peace.

      Delete
  10. You were still growing up, Dee. I can't imagine what it would be like to have been a part of convent life when you hadn't yet experienced enough life to know people from a broader spectrum. I look back to when I was young and my impressions of others were all filtered through the way I'd experienced family life. It took me a couple more adult decades to readily accept that people came with complex issues of their own and that I, needed to accept that people were neither all good nor all bad--to say it simply. I am eager to hear more of your story because somewhere along the way I see that you really began to think for yourself and develop into a very autonomous, but loving person. ox

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Debralee, first I want to say that I'm not sure to whom I'm addressing this response. Are you the Debra from California or another Debra who adds "lee" to her name? Please let me know.

      NOw to the response: I'm eager to find out when I became more autonomous. As you'll see from future postings, I rebelled every so often in the convent, but mostly I simply tried to live perfectly. And that did me in. Then I kept that up after leaving the convent. It was only the third psychiatrist I saw who finally helped me discover the me hidden by all my layers of unreality. Peace.

      Delete
  11. As a child I expected the nuns who taught me to be kind, caring and fair. It didn't take long for that image to be trashed.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Annie, in grade school I knew that the nun who taught my brother in the first grade was a little crazed and that she threatened him and the other first graders with a baseball bat and a golf club. But somehow, I refused to let that evidence sink in. And so I continued my merry way of believing that nuns were saints. It took my own undoing to finally let me admit that they were just ordinary human beings. Peace.

      Delete
  12. I felt your words. Idealism can be a heavy curse. It spawns judgment and disappointment. But when you do not want to become a negative person you cling to it with bloody fingernails. Takes a lot of time and reflection and strength of will to survive its shattering and yet continue on toward the light with a sense of balance and an ability to love the darkness, too. Love and hugs to a brilliant, brave, shining soul. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Rita, your comment certainly did make visualize what I was trying to say in that posting. Yes--clinging with bloody fingernails! Peace.

      Delete
  13. Oh dear, Dee. Oh dear. How could you think that human beings can be anything else but human?
    I am so sorry that your elevated ideas did not stand the test of time.

    I am looking forward to reading of your experiences. You are never anything but honest and clear.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Friko, I've spent much of a lifetime thinking that if only I could do everything perfectly, say everything perfectly people would love me. They would find me acceptable. It was only in my sixties that I finally began to accept myself as part of the human race. It's sad, Friko, but true that it takes me eons to learn anything! Peace.

      Delete
  14. Dee, At school we knew that nuns were human, we had such a variety of personalities among our teachers. But knowing it then was one thing. Knowing it now, as an adult is different. maybe life made us more tolerant, more understanding......They made a lasting impression on me, that's for sure, some negative but most positive. I think they were victims of the times in Ireland as much as we were. The Church had Irish society in a stranglehold.
    I gave up on those morning pages! You're right, when they're ready the words will come.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Molly, when you speak of Ireland I think of that new movie I want to see--'Philomena," which is about Irish adoption policies and the misery of mothers who had to give up their children and who endured the censure of the nuns and the Church.

      And yes, the morning pages can become a cruel taskmaster! Peace.

      Delete
  15. The penny just dropped! We have three, sometimes four, in our little writing group. Each week before we meet we submit something we've written to each of the others for editing. The other two are writing novels (I'm not) so there's always a lot to edit. We are not rewriting Julia C's book!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Molly, I was a member of a writing group at one time, but after a few months, it disbanded because everyone was so busy and I was the only one who brought something to critique each month and that got wearisome for them and for me. I'm glad to know you aren't rewriting some book of hers! That would be a task. Peace.

      Delete
  16. Very interesting, Dee. I wonder about the "why's" of expecting perfection. It's strange for all the different perceptions of reality that we hold. It is sad to hear you say that you left broken, on Christmas eve. Not because of the dogma of Christmas, but for your state of mind. Looking forward to your tale.

    I've always wanted to tell you how much I like the picture of you on the cover of your book. (I keep forgetting to tell you. Ha)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Manzanita, thanks so much for saying you like that photograph. My great-niece Brandi took it. I seldom if ever like photographs of myself because I look as if I have two black eyes. Raccoon eyes. I'm not the least bit photogenic and so my pictures make me wince. Peace.

      Delete
  17. Wow! Your take on how people are is perfect. No matter how much you want people to be one way or the other, their nature is what is is.
    Everyone's path is different.
    Beautiful post.
    R

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Rick, thanks for your kind words. It's so true that all our paths differ and we each bring to them our own nature and our own sense of reality. Makes for complexity, doesn't it!?!?!! Peace,

      Delete
  18. As someone who was raised (quasi) Catholic, I can understand how difficult it can be to realize that Nuns are as as varied in personality as everyone else. I think there is this misconception about them being a certain way because of their Vocation, and well, to some extend it's probably true but kind of unfair to put all nuns into that same exact box.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Catskill, it really is unfair to put people on pedestals. When we discover they have feet of clay--like all the rest of us--we are disappointed and disillusioned and all that is our own fault. At least that's what I've found with myself. The Vocation thing is important I think. For most Catholics of my parents' generation a vocation was truly a calling from God. They didn't think that they had a vocation to be married, but a nun or a priest were CALLED!!!! And that must mean, they thought, that the nun and priest were special human beings. And I really bought into that. Peace.

      Delete
  19. So touchingly truthful, as you always are. If truth be known, I think many of us, including myself, have issues with perfection. They come in different packages, with different reasons, but, they can be heavy loads to carry. I'll look forward to hearing about those human traits and more about your journey.
    I'm so glad you have made it to where you are now, Dee.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Penny, I am so grateful, Penny, that I have lived as long as I have so that I could learn the lesson of what trying to be perfect can do and how letting go of that desire can enrich our lives. Peace.

      Delete
  20. You've had along journey Dee. Be well, be happy :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Pam, thank you for the good wishes. I am well . . . and happy. I'm blessed. Peace.

      Delete
  21. This is such a touching and profoundly honest post, Dee. I do feel very much for your younger self, trying to reconcile the image and goal of perfection with the all-too-human people around you and hating yourself for your inevitable failure. But from that naive and vulnerable young woman has grown a very strong and wise one, though I'm sad that the journey was so hard and painful for you at times.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Perpetua, thank you for your kind words. Life has taught me that all of us have a journey that is hard and painful at times. At one point, I thought that I was the only one who made such a mess of her life, but as time has passed I've realized that I'm just human and that all of us make mistakes and unwise choices. The point is, do we begin again and learn from those mistakes. And I am old enough now that I have many long years to look back on and see that I have learned from most of my mistakes and am the better, in one way, for them. Peace.

      Delete
  22. Dee, that is some post. You are such a pro at writing and I thank you for sharing so much of your life with us. Appreciate you for tuning in to my journal, always leaving such gracious comments. Hope you and your three kitties are staying warm during this holiday season.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Lori, your journal with its photographs of the barn and the horses and dogs and cats and the towns you visit and the food you prepare and the classes you teach is filled with beauty and always makes me aware of just how much all of us have to be grateful for. Peace.

      Delete
  23. It takes all of us such a long time to grow up and come to some understanding about ourselves, others, and the world we live in. Reading your thoughts here reminded me so much of my own young years, even though they were so very different from yours. Which may have something to do with the oneness you talk to me about.

    Ah, Smile ~ I had forgotten this beautiful song, but I smile is what I do every day, or every time some sad thoughts interfere with my life, or I have some physical pain, or I don't feel like getting up and walking Samson. I don't remember who said it works, it wasn't Nat King Cole, but, regardless, it works.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Inger, yes, it's that Oneness. Always and ever. Peace.

      Delete
  24. Your post seems to be from within your heart. Thank you for sharing so much. It makes me think a lot after reading your post. .

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Munir, I try to put myself back all those years ago and remember how I felt. I'm pleased that the posting made you stop and think, that's such a wonderfully generous thing for you to say. Thank you. Peace.

      Delete
  25. Oh, Dee! We're so very hard on ourselves -- especially when we're young and have these idealistic notions of how people should be. It must have been a shock to realize so many nuns were just hopelessly human. I'm so sorry that it was such a painful journey for you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Kathy, yes, we are hard on ourselves. Several readers have commented, as have you, that my journey has been painful. I wonder if everyone's isn't. Or have I just been overly sensitive to it all?????? Peace.

      Delete
  26. I recall in youth your Dad was not there for you. It appears as if you took on a guilt as kids do that they are the blame. The need to be perfect comes from a wish to be accepted and loved and you struggled with that a lot.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Der Heidrun, you have truly pinpointed the problem. I thought that if I were perfect people would accept and love me and I was sure I wasn't perfect because of what had happened in my childhood. I didn't think myself lovable. Peace.

      Delete
  27. That's a lie so many of us have shaped our lives trying to create truth with. One of the most powerful things about your writing is your ability to make your story one we can all relate to. Looking forward to the next installment (when you're feeling better).

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Deb, thank you for your kind words about my writing. I started this blog way back in May 2011 because I wanted to examine what my life has been. One of the gifts that has come from that is the realization that all our lives share common threads and themes. Peace.

      Delete