Well... I don't know how to write this. But I shall just let my fingers type. Sorry if it will be in a haphazard manner. 

It all started with 'somebody has told me', 'some people ave been telling me' words from the director of sm. Still stuck in my mind is, who are these people? Who are they? Do they have names or should I say the nameless people? When I would go to the confessional and the priest insults you and speaks to you in jargon and puzzles that you don't understand...

Simply because he has information that he cannot tell you but will use other means to put it through to you. When you talk to any numerary and you see piercing eyes towards your direction and maybe it was just to find out how the other person is. If it wasn't talking to your director or a director from the higher offices it was "anathema" for two numeraries to be talking to each other. That is the environment-an environment of fear- that one is supposed to be holy. This also extend to the girls who would live in the administration. There were over zealous directors (generals)- one comes to mind especially- who would inhibit them from talking to anybody outside the center especially from other centers. And would have the assistant numeraries inquire from the girls what they were talking about if they saw them speaking to people from other centers. And this especially when there was a major scandal involving the training institution.

So never at one point should two people of the Work be seen together. However, this was very contradictory when a note was sent stating that even if there are two people in the center, a get- together should be held. Unlucky, are those who had fanatics and spies in their centers, one had to be careful what they said.

So in this atmosphere it is safe to say that my room was the only safe haven. For a full year, the four walls of that room was what I knew. They come so fresh in my as I write this because that was the only place where I could not meet or speak to anybody. Thank heavens it was a residence so it was too much time for the director to look for you. It was in my safe haven that I would avoid the director. Never when you meet her would it just be greetings and that is it, it was only about duty and what is and should be done. I was suffocating and it was intoxicating. It is like a husband who has a nagging wife and all he wants to do is disappear- my sentiments exactly.

The chapel ideally should have been the place, however that was the last place you would want to be as the director would peer and see whether the prayer was done and keep tabs on you. Worse still if it was the day of confession when the director would ensure you have gone. She would hover around and even send you to go and call all those who haven't gone to see the priest. Talk about efficiency in ensuring the 'holiness of people.' Sometimes when she had the energy she would come up the stairs to my room, so when I mastered I would go and lock myself in the cleaning store just to avoid her. Otherwise, on the days that she was exhausted... my room it was! 

From there I would watch the football games in the field estate, the sunset, the skyscraper buildings etc through the window.There wasn't much one could do on the internet as it is standard practice that the internet is only in areas of common use. It wasn't much of a sight but hey it was an opportunity to get my mind away from all that was happening. And life would be peaceful... in my room. It was torture to go for sm get together where by they would emphasize on apostolate and discuss which girl was closest (in actual sense in their heads cause in reality she was nowhere close) when all I wanted to do was shout to the girl.... RUN AWAY, SAVE YOURSELF! In one get-together, I happened to have been with numeraries who had gone to the roman college and they spoke Spanish the entire time (translating when one realizes that I could not understand).... in my head I was just like: "I should have just stayed.... IN MY ROOM!"

It was in my room, that the dear residents seeing my depressed state would come and bring snack and we would have mini-parties upstairs. No alcohol though-rest assured.The rest of the numeraries all slept downstairs.  I will forever be grateful to them as in the midst of insanity, they were the sanity around me- my earthly guardian angels. 

So to avoid encountering problems, my room was my safe haven where I would sit, stare and hope for the light at the end of the tunnel which finally came. 

IRIS- was the room name. A name I will remember fondly and sadly at the same time.

When I left, I continued with the habit of my room. To people it was very weird but that was my safe place.

One day, I was at my aunt's office and she reminded my how when I left I was very weird and she explained the room thing. We both had a hearty laughter.

Have a lovely week filled with laughter.

ET

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