It’s a painful reality…
Shocking as though it may have seemed, I eventually had to admit the truth of my existence. My pastor had some very disturbing preconceived notions about me from the very beginning of our getting to know one another, and in the end, although he would never admit it, he ended up turning against me.
This is an image I took of the most recent full moon, on the first night of CHRP, Christ Renews His Parish. When I was supposed to be in communication and communion with my community, I was instead wandering around aimlessly in the dark, down lonely country roads because I was cast out of CHRP.
The pain was palpable…
It was painful to the core. When I was originally cast out, I was devastated. I thought of myself as less than. I had given myself a thousand reasons to believe I was too broken to connect with others on any kind of level, and I flattened myself out on my bed and vegetated for weeks.
As time went on, I knew I was an outcast, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t have the emotional tools to deal with the fact that I was now marginalized from my community, and in my mind, I kept trying to reinsert myself back into it. At one point, I contacted the leader of CHRP and begged her to please meet with me face-to-face, but she couldn’t because of some impossible logistics. In my weakened state, I expected her to connect with me the next day to meetup with me, but she did not. My intention was to ask her if I could come back in, but I never got that chance.
Then, God gave me a quick millisecond-of-a-vision of her face, telling me she was in fact the very cause of my being pushed to the peripheries of my church and, at last, of society. Months went by. Things didn’t change and no one reached out to me in any significant way. That only reinforced my suffering. But, I was becoming clearer about what happened and it gave me courage.
Please don’t let me help you entertain the thought that it was becoming easier for me. It wasn’t. In fact, on the second day of the weekend retreat, all I could do was sit in my sorrow. I tried to fill up my time with outside activities, but there weren’t any. I took myself to lunch that day and cried the whole time I was in the restaurant. Being alone in a restaurant is not always an easy task and crying is not easy to cover up. In fact, the waitress saw me and asked if there was anything she could do. Of course I said no, and tried to dry my tears.
That night which was the last night of the CHRP retreat, I knew there would be a Mass in the church since I was originally part of the first team and the first retreat. Since I desperately needed the Mass, I went to church early and sat in what they call, “the cry room.” But, I had forgotten that the ladies would be having confessions that night and they all passed by me while I was sitting there. That was difficult. I didn’t want them to see me but, it was too late.
Ironically, the leader who I mentioned earlier, came into the room and tried to talk to me. At first I was shocked, and couldn’t speak but she egged me on. So I did. And I told her exactly how I felt. (to be continued…)