u/Majestic-Trash-5952

I haven't been to church in months and in my head I've pretty much decided im not going back. I think it's been apart of my life for so long now that I just can't imagine my life without it. I mean hell, just last year I was still a postulant in a monastery. When I sit and think about it though, I know long term it can never work. I've tried so hard for so long, and my priest has offered too little, too late.

I've tried going back, believe me. I tried to go for Pascha. Took a moment and cried in the car before I finally managed to get out. I had barely taken a few steps when a girl I went to church with looked at me with disgust- quite literally almost a snarl- and I turned right back around and hyperventilated in my car. I sat there about an hour trying to work up the courage to go back in. Got out again. Took a few steps. Threw up. Called it a night and went home in tears.

A few other times I've tried going to sunrise liturgies but I've never been able to bring myself to go inside. Usually I just feel stuck at the door and stare at the handle before I end up just going home. For my birthday I got a text message from my priest- the first I've heard from him in months (because he doesn't want me to 'form an attachment') and it quite literally made my enjoyable night turn into a panic attack. I was surprised he remembered my birthday at all. I was more so surprised when he said I am missed. It feels like a cruel joke, almost. I think people there only miss me because they miss having someone to shit on. I think they probably only noticed I was gone because they don't have someone to target so much anymore.

I desperately want to talk to my priest. I can't tell you how many times I've sat in the parking lot in our parish at 3am and sobbed- to God, to my priest (who isn't there) and to myself. I've never cried this much over heartbreak or because of an injury; the church has truly wounded me in a new way I've never experienced before.

I also just don't feel comfortable talking to him. I think he'll try to talk me back into going back when I'm not sure I want to stay and try again. I think he'll guilt me as he has before saying "this is the tradition God has revealed to you specifically. Do not stray from it. It is no coincidence God has revealed this tradition to you." I also can't forget that he essentially blamed me for my own sexual assault on multiple occasions, telling me he's sorry but that I put myself in those situations. I can't forget the many times I've been pulled into his office and told I have offended someone over a nose ring or not speaking enough, or that I creep people out even by doing nothing. I can't unsee how often he's been there for others while he can't just check in on me. I know so many of my peers who have had him over for dinner, shared car rides, called him just to catch up. Watching him attend baby showers and birthday parties. I have no one to support me in my religious life. In any regard. He was always the only one. And at first, he was there for me. I don't know what changed. But suddenly he sat me down and told me he can't hold my hand. How he's afraid of creating an unhealthy dynamic where I depend on him too much or how he doesn't want to train me to see him as God. To be fair, I did once break down in front of him about how strict he was being with me and that it was destroying my view on God, because I felt I couldn't take anything to him or confess. I was so frightened of disappointing him. Not because of his kindness or support, but because he became strict with me and angry when I broke the rules.

I don't have a dad. My mom and I have a strained relationship at best. I was almost thrown out for my faith when I converted. My Abouna was always there for me. Until he wasn't. I suppose to an extent I understand where he's coming from. I never wanted to be dependent on him or to take up most of his time; I just wanted someone to care about me. At first, I felt my priest perfectly embodied the love of God. Now, I feel nothing but fear and relentless anxiety. I don't know why it's so hard for him just to be there for me like he is for others. I don't think the problem was ever him being a pillar or support in my life, I think he grew strict with me as an authoritative figure and because I thought so highly of him, I obeyed him as if he were God. I never had any issues when he was kind and supportive, present. When he withdrew and grew stern with me though, that's when the shift affected me. I kinda felt like he took me on this very difficult hike, and it was fine with guidance, but eventually he just grew tired and left me behind, leaving me to the wolves.

I don't think he would have sympathy for me. not truly. I think he would feel a little bad. But I know he will always think it's my fault. I was the one who never did enough. I was the one unwilling to endure enough. Everything is always my fault, always, to him I think. I think instead of showing concern he'll chastise me and call me selfish or he'll sigh and bury his face in his hands like he always does and say he doesn't know what to do with me.

I don't know if I should write a letter (something I've done for him every year on father's day), sit down with him one last time, or make a silent and graceful exit.

I have people who have never wanted to interact with me before reaching out to me and asking how I am, where I've been, why I'm gone. It feels like a sick and cruel joke. I feel like for so long, they have made me out to be a devil in their church that you would think they would be pleased that I'm gone... I think maybe they just need me back so they have something to shit on.

I've posted on here before speaking of how I was done with the coptic church- at least for now. I've rarely had any good experiences in the church and I fought for a very long time to fit in or to merely just be ok in that space but I've been thinking about my time in the monastery lately.

I was never a nun- I want to be clear. But I was sent to monastery a few times to discern- a postulant if you will. There are so many reasons why I decided not to be a nun, but I do have to admit, I think that was the best part of my life. Every issue I had in my church was never an issue in the convent. Often times I find myself shedding tears (a rare thing for me) when I recall my life there.

The nuns were some of the kindest and sincere women I've ever had the pleasure of living and working with. My style, my ethnicity, my awkwardness, my fidgeting or anxiety, my difficult and unconventional past was never a hinderance for them to love me like that church failed to do. I will be using different names, of course to protect the privacy and dignity of the mothers and sisters.

Mother A was always by my side. I stuck out like a sore thumb at convent and everyone knew it. She was the first one who welcomed me. Showed me around. Spoke to me. Always had a smile on her face. Always made sure I was well-fed and warm. She didn't always understand my peculiarities but she never judged me for anything, ever. Never scolded me. When I came to monastery she warned me that the life was difficult in the convent: always being watched, judged, criticized by clergy and guests. And she was right. She always snuck food into my pockets- worried I wasn't eating enough and when never accept anything in return. I remember going through TSA when I went back home and finding baggies of cereal squirreled in my pockets and my bag because 'airport food is too expensive'. She very much embodied the title 'mother'. I've spent many days and nights talking to her about the intricacies of my soul with her arms around me. I can't tell you how many times I've laughed with her while feeding the fish leftover peas from the kitchen.

Mother B gave me the shoes off her own feet when mine broke (the only pair I had) and did not allow me to thank her or give her anything in return. She insisted the shoes were very poor and legitimately walked off only in socked feet. Her shoes served me well and she never asked for them back, but I did leave them on her doorstep when I left. She was like a dear sister to me. It was easy to talk to her about my life and we both shared the same sentiments. I miss her dearly.

Sister C I worked with often. When I departed for the last time she gave me many gifts and said she looked forward to seeing me again and hearing my whole story as we were never able to sit over tea and talk and she wanted to respect my privacy and not intrude on my conversations with the other nuns. I hope I get to see her again and peak with her. I will not pretend that she always understood me, but she always wanted to hear me regardless.

Mother D was a sister when I met her, and I think she always smiled more than mother A. We shared the same saint name, and through our discussions I could always see how much she truly loved and adored God. Genuinely and wholeheartedly. I envy her, but in a positive way. I used to be a lot like her, but unlike me, her light has not been snuffed out and I am very happy for her. She was always excited to me, and she truly felt like my sister. She offered me a handheld cross during my first stay. It was broken, but it had our name on it, so she fixed it and gave it to me. I still have it.

Mother E didn't speak much English, but was one of the most sympathetic women in the monastery. I had a lot of spiritual struggles with spirits and the like, and she listened openly without judgement, and she didn't think I was crazy. She also didn't panic when she bore witness to the matters I spoke of. She never was scared of me or what she saw and experienced, rather it seemed to make her more sympathetic towards me and my unseen struggle, and she did not share my troubles with others.

Mother F I didn't interact with much, but she was almost always on her face in prayer and in her own world. I was scared of her at first- she had a harsh face and rarely spoke. I snuck out of my room at night once when the rain was absolutely pouring, still in my dress and head covering and everything. I thought no one was watching- danced and splashed around, sat and stood. I remember turning to go back to my room and being shocked that she was standing there- some distance away and watching. I thought she would scold me. yell at me. chastise me. She said nothing. But she smiled. A kind, knowing smile. It was a brief interaction but I've never felt more seen. she watched and said nothing as I ran back to my room, wrung out my close and disappeared inside. She seemed amused. She never said anything, and I never got in trouble.

these are just a few of my good memories.

It's incredibly difficult to reconcile that yes, I had a wonderful life there but it was also not for me, and that the church that they're apart of has damaged and hurt me deeply without shame or sympathy. I have such disdain now for the church, but I will always love the nuns and hold my time there close to my heart.