Taken out of the monastery, things came into relief. I might want to suffer like a saint but I was not a saint.
The hurts which had grown and accumulated through the years came to the fore at the monastery.
I was all graciousness whenever anyone came to visit me. It was a different matter when the archbishop came to visit. Outside, I was smiling and pleasant but inside I was a ferocious tiger, snarling, ready to attack were he to draw nearer. He did not. It was a very revealing moment. I was a wounded soul, like an animal wounded beyond endurance.
Later, when I returned to the monastery, it was this animal the nuns had to contend with.
However, I was only that way towards authoritarian figures. Somewhere, somehow, I had not only lost my trust in my superiors. I felt them like a threat to me. That did not bode well for me a few years later, when I asked for a transfer to another monastery.
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