Feelings

It's about feelings at this point in my memoir--feelings of isolation, loss, and apprehension hidden just below the surface of my everyday life. I usually tried to deny and keep them to myself. Except for the few times I attempted to tell my Novice Mistress.

In response to my timid knock on her office door, Sister would usher me in. After she'd offered me the stiff-backed chair in front of her desk, she would take a seat on the opposite side and ask me what I wanted. That was all it took for me to completely bury whatever  fears or feelings I intended to share, while we sat in awkward silence and I nervously cleared my throat. I'd tell her I'd forgotten what I was going to say and sit awhile longer, remembering how she had told us during Instruction period that feelings were unimportant. How we were instead, to rely on God and our faith.

Except that I couldn't feel God or his love.I did fall back on my parents' love, though, and their letters which conveyed their pride and love for me. Otherwise, I would have felt even worse.

I must have looked pretty forlorn, because those sorry attempts I made at sharing my feelings with her usually resolved with her suggestion that I go downstairs to the music room and practice the piano for awhile. Saying it might make me feel better. Now I realize how much she cared but couldn't admit it. It was the perfect way for me to deal with feeling blue. I would head for the piano, close the door to the rest of the world, and get carried away through music. In the end, I did feel better.