Second Sign

According to the article I sighted in my previous post, the second sign that someone has been in a cult-- or has been brainwashed—is whether you were expected to regard the group leader as being a notch above everyone else, and as someone having some special kind of wisdom. Did s/he claim to speak for God?

Another positive check for my experience in the convent. During the initial years of my time in formation, our most revered authority figure was called Mother Superior. The members were subjected to her ultimate authority and expected to obey immediately and without question—even if directed to do something stupid or humiliating. For example, a nun might be were told to wash the dishes, put them back in the cupboard, take them out again, and rewash them. To the outsider,  a complete waste of time, to a nun, it was merely considered a test of her Obedience to God.

I admired and somewhat feared the Mother Superior, who reigned during the first five years of my initiation process (brainwashing). It was easy to identify her in the crowd. Her heels clipped stridently when she walked the hallways, her chin tilted up, eyes straight ahead, and long black habit swishing like a windblown sail in her wake. My heart always did a little  pitter-patter at the sight. It was like catching a glimpse of a movie star, especially when she deigned to glance my direction and smile. I walked on clouds for days afterward. My pitter-pattering heart quickly became a shudder, at the thought of crossing or disobeying her. From the moment of my entrance into that life, it was  because of such authority figures as her that I learned to operate in survival mode. I developed the most convincing good girl persona possible. After all, that was how nuns were supposed to be--right?


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Brainwashed?

While doing research for my memoirs, I found information about Mind Control techniques. If someone were going to control me, they would follow each of the Eight Steps based on Stephen Martin's book, The Heresy of Mind Control, and Margaret Singer's Cults in Our Midst.

As I read through the steps, they verified my hunch that we had been brainwashed in the convent. I don't know why I doubted it. Back in the 1950s and 60s, convent life smacked of all the cult ingredients.

It began with Step One:  Control of the environment, which includes people and information.

A Cult takes control over the member's access to the outside world.

In the convent, we were allowed a minimum of contact with Worldly folk, as Outsiders were referred to then. We were cut off from former friends, teachers, and especially boyfriends, and restricted to once-a-month-visits from our family, as well as twice a month letters home. That was it. No other contacts. Even inside the convent, we were forbidden to strike up friendships with any group besides our own. That is, those in training were not allowed to collaborate with the nuns.

As far as information was concerned, the convent controlled our access to outside information in several ways. Our reading materials were limited to religious books. We were especially forbidden to read anything that was published on the Church's Black List. (Materials that were considered heretical, frivolous, sexual, etc). There were no magazines or newspapers, except those kept in the musty, convent library. We had no TV or radio. Letters to and from the Outside were carefully censored. Our world revolved around an increasingly narrow axis.

There's a lot more about Step One that is written by Martin and Singer, but for now, I learned enough to have little doubt that  Step One applied to me.

Setback

Another day, another setback.

Set.

Back.

I'm in the convent again, where it's my daily duty to examine my conscience for all possible wrong-doing. Only in this case, I'm listening to the unforgiving voice of my overly picky Inner Critic.

     Terrible writing. . .terrible. Who's going want to read this dribble? Why don't you quit right now?

Like preparing to tell my sins to the priest in weekly confession, or drumming up enough faults to admit to my peers and Superior every day. It comes second nature for me to listen to what's wrong with me, rather than the good. Especially when I write, and most especially when it's about the ticklish subject of life in the convent.

Just when I'm patting myself on the back and congratulating myself for finally getting over the habit of self-blame, it's staring me in the face again.

Time to lift myself up and out of the dungeon of dark self exploration and envision a clear path ahead.

I can,

and I will.

One way or another.

Reaching Higher

I am the one who aspires to the highest of goals,

but who often begins with crawling.

It's 2014 and I no longer feel like I'm crawling at a snail's pace at my writing. I'm feeling recharged and have been churning out my memoirs non-stop for the past couple weeks. There's a light at the end of my tunnel and I'm going for it. Now back to my writing. 

Jam & Tea

Our Jam & Tea group met a couple days ago after a couple months hiatus. Our skills were rather rusted out ans we sounded out of tune and off-beat. We didn't let our amateurishness stop us, however.We've rededicate ourselves to regular gatherings for jamming and snacking (thus the name of our group: Jam & Tea). Down to four of us again with two violins, a hammer dulcimer and me on the piano, we're ready to go.

I stole a few photos on the new Sony NEX-5Tcamera I got for Christmas, then played around with the editing process. Love the poster-like results. Maybe we'll get famous and I'll have to use them.

Hopefully I'll follow suit with my writing again too. Haven't written a word throughout the holidays and plan to start up again TODAY.