The Pedestal

pedestal

Once I left the convent, I wanted to consider myself normal. I lived in the regular world, had a boyfriend-soon-to-become-husband, a job, and lived a regular house. Everything seemed unremarkable and normal to me. But I was soon to discover I was anything but. My family didn’t want me to be regular. They bristled at the fact that I moved from the convent to a live-in situation with my boyfriend. They were shocked that I’d given up my faith, since my parents and most of my siblings were faithful Catholics. How could I NOT be, when I’d been a nun for so long?

They had put me on a pedestal and then eventually forgotten I was real.

In the meantime, I’d spent too many years breathing the rarified air from the top of a pedestal and found it lonely and uncomfortable. I’d learned to  obey without question and respond immediately to the call of the bell. I became a dutiful nun. A good girl. A saint–a woman worthy of praise.

Having finally rediscovered my humanity, I began listening to my own voice and gradually fell down from the pedestal.

Though I have had to learn to live in its shadow.

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Seeing the Light

doorway

I’m almost there. After years of writing, rethinking, and revising my story, the final pieces are finally falling into place, and I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. Within weeks, I should have my book published on Amazon. After that, I’ll announce it to the world and do a little ditsy dance of joy. It won’t seem real though, until I hold a copy of it in my hands. But for the time being, the pesky little voice that has been telling me to get back to work, has stopped