Lies, Vocation, and The Gift of Desperation | Magdala Testimony
For over half my life I lived in secrecy, shame, and isolation, believing the lies my addiction told me. I felt like two separate people living two separate lives. One was a rule-follower, easy-going, and hated disappointing people. The other carried a huge secret which, at the time, I thought made me dirty, unloveable, and repulsive. I was ashamed of this latter person and thought surely God was too.
My addiction began in early middle school. In 8th grade, a close relative found out and I was not received well; I made a vow to myself I would never tell another soul. This vow was so strong that I even kept it from God in the confessional. As I transitioned into high school, I was still deep into addiction but started getting more involved in my parish youth group at the same time.
As a freshman in high school, I felt the Lord tug at my heart to enter religious life. My reaction was one of shock. I began crying and thinking I could never become a Sister because of my addiction, and that I couldn’t do what the Lord wanted me to do. This led me to think I was making it up in my head, because “the Lord wouldn’t want me anyway…”
Thinking all of this pushed me further into shame, but also pushed me to get more involved at church. I started attending daily mass and visited several religious communities. My motive was that maybe, if I got more involved and pushed myself to really discern religious life, all my problems would go away. But as addiction tells us, that did not happen.
I graduated high school in 2009 and was deeply frustrated and disappointed in myself. I had tried everything to move past my unwanted behaviors but nothing was helping—it felt like a black cloud was always looming above me. When I would get any kind of compliment from someone at church or the question, “have you ever thought about religious life?”, my stomach would churn and my self-hatred would grow.
One day on a visit to the convent, the vocation directress asked me why I had not entered yet. I tried telling her what was going on without really telling her what was going on by explaining I felt unworthy of being His bride. Her response was, “Oh honey, we are all unworthy!” I don’t remember how I responded, but I do remember thinking, “if you only knew…” I felt if I were to enter I would somehow taint the community in some way. But once again, my thinking changed. I started believing that if I entered, maybe all my problems would go away.
I entered the convent in September of 2010, convicted that the Lord was calling me to leave behind all my struggles. I stayed sober for the first couple of years, but the first time I relapsed in the convent all those lies came flooding back: that I’m dirty, unlovable (especially by God), and the worst person in the world. How could I live this life as Christ’s Bride and at the same time be carrying around this huge, ugly secret.
This was the war raging inside of me, but I was determined to keep it secret and just push through life. It was incredibly isolating and depressing, but I covered it all up with jokes and laughter; I learned how to suppress the hard feelings and lies that come with addiction. I was scared to tell the Sisters because I was afraid I would get thrown out, rejected, and abandoned. What would I do? Where would I go? I would be even more alone than I already was and my life would lose all of its meaning and purpose. So, I just kept pushing on, determined to carry this secret to my grave.
I was miserable but thought I had no other options. My addiction kept growing and getting heavier until I broke during the summer of 2020. The weight of all the lies and secrecy was unbearable; I knew something was wrong with me, but I was not sure how to put it into words. I was depressed but didn’t know where to start.
Finally one night, I asked two Sisters to pray with me. Going into the session, I had NO intention of sharing anything—all I knew was my disparity. Looking back, I now see the desperation was a gift from the Lord, but at the time I was in a deep, dark hole with no hope of ever getting out. As they started praying I suddenly knew I would share with them all of my secrets. I could physically feel the walls I had built up tumbling down. Finding the words to say was difficult, but when it all finally came out, I collapsed and was received with nothing but love.
The last four years have been a hard journey, but it’s a journey with the Lord I would do all over again because I know the freedom and peace of heart it brings.
If you are hiding in the secrecy of addiction, listening to its lies and are desperate for relief, please reach out.
If you are not received well, reach out again and again until you are.
I know it’s terrifying, but I promise it brings healing and freedom. The evil one wants you to stay in your hiding place because we can not grow in holiness alone. He does not want us in relationship with others, and he especially does not want us in relationship with the Lord.
Don’t give up on yourself. You are enough—you are worthy to do what the Lord is calling you to, and you are worthy of the vocation He desires for you.
He loves you despite your past and He wants to give you the gift of freedom. Let Him in.