Rebuilding life after years of religious service marred by misconduct

When religious life, undermined by misconduct, turns into hell, leaving is just the first step. As abuses of power, spiritual abuses, and situations of dominance have been exposed in some religious communities in recent years, victims who have managed to escape face a monumental challenge: regaining the balance of an ordinary life.

“It was very violent to leave the monastic habit overnight,” explains Manon*, who left after ten years in a Benedictine community. The religious habit protects and exposes at the same time. Shedding it is a relief and a loss of identity. “It weighs on me, but it is a passport,” confides a sister currently struggling. “The first time I removed my veil, I no longer recognized myself in the mirror,” shares Blandine, who has left her community but not yet given up her vows.

Recognizing misconduct

The daily challenge is just the tip of the iceberg. “Material concerns are important, but the psychological and spiritual suffering is far more serious,” estimates Dominican Sister Véronique Margron, President of the Conference of Men and Women Religious of France (CORREF). The first urgency is not to be alone. The accumulation of bullying and even assaults gives the courage to plunge into the unknown. “One day, I heard myself say aloud: ‘I said yes 40 years ago, today I refuse to be treated like a child being put in a corner.’ That was the day of my departure,” remembers Catherine, 71.

It took time for the former contemplative nun to become aware of the misconduct. “The dominance infantilized me. For 40 years, I was told what to do, what to say, what to think, like a four-year-old.” Finally free from her community, she quickly realized the abyss opening beneath her feet: “I remember going to a restaurant a year after my departure with a very old friend. I was unable to choose a dish because I no longer knew what I liked.” Sister Margron also notes that “some nuns, victims of abuse of authority, have unlearned the basics of existence.”

Betrayed trust

“One of the biggest sufferings after leaving is the void. I no longer know what people are talking about in the world. I try to imitate others, but I lack the social codes,” explains Blandine, a victim of sexual assault within her community. “The hardest part was rebuilding a social circle,” confides Antoine, a former brother. Due to the sectarian climate of my former community, I left without any connections. What the abuse damaged most in me was the ability to trust. I constantly think that people are lying to me or that they speak to me out of self-interest.”

Even familial relationships can be deeply altered. “Congregations often advocate distancing from the family, when some demand cutting off close ties, which puts the person at risk,” Sister Margron points out. Reconnecting with the family is difficult, sometimes strained by entering religious life and bewildered by the departure. “In the two years following my exit, I kept thinking I had to hurry, I was afraid of becoming an old maid,” recounts Manon, 38, now married and mother of a little girl.

A trial of faith

The “leavers” experience mixed feelings, such as a certain “guilt” for having, in their view, betrayed their calling, which adds to the pain of being betrayed by their community. Leaving is a break that relieves and wounds at the same time. Some can no longer trust enough to even enter a church.

“I still believe in my calling as a nun,” shares Blandine. “But, I am not yet able to rejoin community life.” Others can no longer bear it: “I was too damaged by the Church,” confides Manon. “We intervene to solve material problems but, as we witness, many have an incredible faith,” tests Loula Borgis, a member of the Véro network. Established ten years ago, this network supports around 50 religious men and women leaving their institutions each year, offering help with daily needs: finding shelter, seeking work, and regaining some autonomy.

The weight of the aftermath is also the silence around the abuses. “I was under the influence of a brother in my community for over a decade. It set in gradually, and then the sexual abuse started,” Blandine recounts. Another community, but the same logic: “When canonical visitors came, the instruction was to say nothing about life in the community. The dirty laundry was washed at home,” remembers Manon. To the extent of blaming those who say stop: “Just before my departure, my former community asked me to keep silent about the abuses. I felt cheated out of a part of my life. They stole all those years but they won’t steal my story,” says Antoine.

* At the request of the nuns and monks interviewed, neither their identities nor the names of their communities are revealed.