Thursday, October 23, 2014

The Need to Be Resolute




Dayton, Ohio

In January 1967 I moved to Dayton. Two and a half years later—in August 1969—I left Ohio to attend graduate school at the University of Minnesota. During those thirty-two months, I mostly enjoyed life: I made many new friends and was “adopted” by a young couple who had two children with whom I played lightheartedly.
I also dated, learned how to manage money, took a literature course at the University of Dayton, explored my emotional immaturity with an astute psychiatrist, flew home to visit my parents, lived through the death of my mother, worked at Pflaum Publishing Company, taught at two schools, attended concerts and musicals, became a frequent visitor at the local library, shopped for clothes, reveled in movies, and moved several times.
My life seemed full and rich. However, there was also the difficulty of becoming fully released from my final vows.
Last week I explained why I’d taken only a year’s leave of absence from the convent. During that time, I hoped to discover why the religious life overwhelmed me emotionally and why I found the vow of obedience so oppressive.
To my way of thinking, I’d been a total failure as a nun. All those other women with whom I’d lived for eight and a half years were able to remain faithful to their vows. They seemed content with their lives. What was wrong with me?
And yet, deep down in my psyche was the thought—one I didn’t want to embrace then or even now—that something was amiss in the convent. That it failed to help people like myself, who’d entered immature, to grow emotionally and spiritually. And yet. And yet. All those other nuns seemed fine. So I was the ugly duckling.
Throughout 1967, I became aware that I’d felt stifled in the convent. That I was unwilling—deep down—to suppress my need to be independent and to follow my own will as to what was good for me.
In early autumn of that year, the prioress contacted me, asking what I’d decided: Did I want to return or be released from my vows?
I wrote to say I wanted to stay “in the world.” She then explained that I needed to write a letter asking for permission to be released from final vows. She would forward the letter to the Roman prelate who oversaw this process at the Vatican.
Writing that letter proved difficult. I was still confused. I felt hamstrung when living the monastic life. Yet, the idea of monasticism continued to appeal deeply to my romantic and idealistic nature. The letter I wrote revealed a conflicted person.
The prelate’s reply came via the prioress. Concerned, he thought I needed more surety in my life before walking steadfastly away from monasticism. And so I was given another year’s leave of absence to think through what I really wanted to do. During that year I was to report to the archbishop of the Cincinnati archdiocese, which took in the western and southwest corner of Ohio and included both the Cincinnati and the Dayton metropolitan area. 
My independent streak rebelled. “I don’t need to see the archbishop. I just need to write a more resolute letter next October,” I thought, putting off the Cincinnati visit. Then, in the spring of 1968, I received notification from the archbishop’s office: I was to report there on the following Saturday morning.
That meeting, my friends, did not go well.
Peace.

Dayton panorama from Wikipedia.

55 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry they made it difficult for you to leave instead of allowing you to embrace a new, more relaxed lifestyle.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, I do believe that the prelate was just trying to be sure that I wouldn't regret the decision. I suspect that his view of women is that we are weak, vacillating creatures. And I surely did vacillate. Peace.

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    2. Dear Janie, so true!!! Peace.

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  2. I would burst out too. It is good that we have that independent streak.

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    1. Dear Munir, without that independent streak my life would be totally different. Peace.

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  3. I hop[e--& believe--you came out stronger from this whole process!!

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    1. Dear Fishducky, I've always heard that the pottery that shatters is harder after it's been glued back together. Peace.

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  4. Extricating oneself - what a process!

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    1. Dear Linda, it was quite a process. Just wait until you learn about the meeting with the bishop and the next two letters! Peace.

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  5. Oh, my goodness! I wish they had let you leave gracefully. You always make the best out of something so difficult.

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    1. Dear Shelly, you know I still believe that the Roman prelate was truly concerned that I was a lost sheep and he was trying to help me. I know that letter was conflicted. Peace.

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  6. When you write your memoir posts I always think about where I was then. I am so glad you had a good psychiatrist to help you during this, what must have been a both fun but difficult time for you.

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    1. Dear Inger, where were you in the spring of 1968? That psychiatrist was a gift from the Universe. And yes, it was both a fun and a difficult time, but I suspect that much of life is like that for many--most?--of us. Peace.

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  7. I had no idea that this was such a difficult process. I would think they would be compliant to let someone weak of resolve leave. Curious to hearing what the archbishop had to say.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti, I don't know what the process became when the "mass exodus" of nuns left convents throughout the States. But in the beginning, Rome and the various dioceses couldn't believe that anyone would leave and so they had little set up to facilitate the process. Peace.

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  8. Wow, hoops within hoops. Good thing that independent streak was there to help.

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    1. Dear Pat, yes, that's an apt description: hoops within hoops. Peace.

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  9. I bet it didn't go well. I'm not betting on the archbishop--there is so little compassion in the system you've put before us.

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    1. Dear Joanna, the bishop and I ended up at loggerheads! Peace.

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  10. Wow! This is an amazing story. Obviously, you broke free, but the how???

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    1. Dear Turquoisemoon, the thing is that I observed someone dear to me getting divorced and it took almost three years to get everything finalized. So I'm thinking that there's not much different between leaving the convent and getting a divorce. Peace.

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  11. I look forward to finding out how you finally extricated yourself. I hope it wasn't just you who suffered, but I suspect it was. A bureaucracy always finds a way to blame the victim.

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    1. Dear DJan, I continue to believe that everyone acted out of the best of intentions then. The process for leaving for just emerging and was later tested by the increasing numbers who left convents throughout the United States. Peace.

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  12. I am looking forward to reading more about this meeting, Dee. Since the vows of a nun are 'marriage vows' and with the Catholic Church's view on divorce, I would suspect that the unmarried clergymen would not be the most understanding of people to deal with a woman -- in turmoil or not...

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    1. Dear Broad, yes, the final vows of a nun are just are committed as the vows a couple take with one another. The Roman Catholic Church remains paternalistic and that's what I really realized during those thirty-two months in Dayton. Peace.

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  13. The church has never liked independent thinking, especially when it come from a woman. We all know you were able to win this battle, but the process sounds very painful.

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    1. Dear Arleen, you're right that the Church often frowns on independent thinking. We've seen that in the way it is treating socially active nuns today in the United States. I think the men--the priests, bishops, and cardinals--are running scared! Peace.

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  14. Sad that you were made to feel like a failure when you were simply following your own inner light.

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    1. Dear Karen, I really don't think that the prioress meant in any way to make me feel as if I were a failure. It was myself and my own commitment to the vows and my own searching for perfection in myself--wanting to be a saint--that led me to feel like a failure. Peace.

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  15. I doubt that most, even those of the Catholic faith, have any idea of what it really means to become a nun, Dee, let alone leave one's order; either in the late sixties, or today. I have had, still do, several acquaintances in my life who left their orders, including a priest. All wonderful folks and remarkable members of society. Your writing makes me more cognizant of what their stories may be, and, in fact, what all of our stories may hold and challenges me to be a better listener.

    As always, Dee, you have me hanging on your words, anticipating what comes next.

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    1. Dear Penny, I've always thought that being released from final vows was like seeking and receiving release from one's marriage vows. All the emotion and the conflicting feelings and memories.

      I suspect, Penny, that most of us could work on being better listeners. I used to listen and think of what I would reply. But when I began to do the AIDS volunteering back in the late 1980s, I learned to simply listen with an open heart and mind. I tried to hear what was in the pauses and to honor the person speaking and his words. I began to treasure a patient's sharing of his story. And each story was a gift. Peace.

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  16. A cliff hanger! Although we do know the ultimate outcome, of course.
    I find myself thinking of myself in the late '60s (I was in college) and how absurd it would have been for me to make a lifetime commitment as you did. I knew nothing of the world, didn't even know myself, so how could I have known what I could commit to "for the rest if my life." I'm glad you had the courage to follow your heart to the life that was right for you.

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    1. Dear Cynthia, when I entered at age twenty-two, many of my high school and college friends were already married and so they'd committed themselves "for the rest of their lives" and felt that they knew what they were doing. I wonder truly if we ever really realize what we're doing when we enter a new relationship. Life is so full of surprises. Peace.

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  17. You did vacillate, so I can imagine he'd want you to be sure. Pushing you, though, sounds like maybe it made things more clear. It had to feel like a divorce...not to be taken lightly, highly emotional, and gut-wrenching with guilt and failure overtones. I'm glad you made the right decision for you. :)

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    1. Dear Rita, yes, when I first read his letter I wasn't pleased. I immediately felt the spark of rebellion. It was only later, after reflecting on it and on my own letter, that I had some appreciation of where he was coming from. Still, his letter did help me realize that I did not want to return to the convent. Peace.

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  18. It is interesting how we all choose different paths to reach a final destination. Life is such a learning experience.

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    1. Dear Manzanita, so many paths we can take and all of them can be a learning experience. And what I've often learned is what I least expected. Peace.

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  19. I am so impressed with the strength and fortitude that you have. My heart bursts with pride that I have gotten to know you.

    Linda
    http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com/?s=The+Adventures+of+Fuzzy+and+Boomer&submit=Search
    http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com

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    1. Dear Linda, thank you for your kind words. When I look back from a distance of more than 45 years, I do think that young woman had strength. I've never really realized that before. Peace.

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  20. Oh, I wince a little at your last line that "it did not go well," Dee. I am so sorry to hear that, but also eager to read what you will share about that very tumultuous time. You were so young and it had to be so difficult to stand up and speak your own mind in face of such authority!

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    1. Dear Debra, the thing I've discovered while doing this on-line memoir and looking back at my life is that I can be silent in the midst of hard things but if I feel a sense of injustice, I seem to speak up! Peace.

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  21. While I was reading your post this morning, I was sipping my coffee and hanging on every one of your words. I am so fascinated at how your life was then and I am amazed at how difficult it was to leave the convent. I wonder if the process has changed since then.

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    1. Dear Dee, I don't know about the convent today and leaving it. I still visit the convent where I lived for eight and a half years and have friends there but we've never talked about the leaving process. I suspect all those who felt called to leave have left. And the new postulants who enter are older and wiser than I ever was! Peace.

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  22. I've learned that you alone must fine the path you are to follow.
    Well-meaning people want to help, but after all is said and done. We must follow our hearts.
    R

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    1. Dear Rick, it's so true that we each are on a journey and that our paths may cross for a time and then diverge. I did follow my heart, but I truly was confused. Peace.

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  23. We all get afraid of leaving the situation that we are in. You must be real brave.

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    1. Dear Munir, I didn't so much think of myself as brave. Really I was just desperate to find some peace in the midst of turmoil and anguish. Peace.

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  24. I can see that it was by no means easy to loosen your ties with such a deep-seated adherence to the monastic life.
    I am glad you managed it because there would be no blog to tell us about it if you hadn’t.

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    1. Dear Friko, it took three years to finally leave the convent. As to writing this blog, I wonder sometimes if it isn't somewhat self-indulgent to go back and tell the story of a Sister Innocence and a younger Dee who was in some ways very different from who I am now. But I find myself admiring her nevertheless. She was more determined than I've thought. Until I reached my seventies, I mostly thought of myself as a milquetoast kind of person. Peace.

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    1. Dear Keith, yes . . . thank goodness! Peace.

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  26. This is fascinating, Dee. I can quite see both why you vacillated and why the prelate was concerned to give you more time to decide. I have a good friend who was an Anglican sister for 20 years and her description of what she experienced when she left her order and how she dwelt about it certainly echoes aspects of yours.

    As I'm playing blog catch-up today, I can now go on to read how the meeting with the archbishop turned out.

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    1. Oops, that should have been felt, not dwelt. :)

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  27. What an ordeal, Dee, both in terms of dealing with your own conflicted feelings and with church officials. I can hardly wait for your memoir! The story and the way you tell it is so spell-binding.

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