Who I Am (Part 2)

I finally did it! Yes, like Lazarus, I have gotten out of my tomb and released myself from the chains of anxiety, anger, shame, fear, hurts and resentments that bound me for over thirty years and ate my heart up. Now I am on my way to new life.

The article below is my story. It was written by Tess V. Atienza and appeared in the May 2008 issue of Kerygma, a magazine with worldwide circulation. I am using it here by permission of the publisher, The Shepherd’s Voice Publication. But first, let me recount how the story came about.

It all started in January this year when Tess (the author) requested for volunteers from our counselors’ yahoo group to be interviewed for the May 2008 issue of Kerygma on the topic of Depression. I still do not know what or who inspired me, but I replied to the email, told my story in brief, asked if it was what she was looking for and then forgot all about it. She replied yes and scheduled me for interview. I initially developed cold feet and requested her that I remain anonymous should the magazine decide to publish my story. Again, Tess said yes and she got to interview me. She then wrote the initial draft without revealing my identity and asked me to review she wrote.

About this time and before the interview with Kerygma, I related the story of an unnamed former priest (me) in my post: Jesus and the Politics of Compassion: Is God Male or Female? Around the same time too, the story of Fr. Rey Roda, OMI, the missionary priest who died violently in Sulu came out in the newspapers. For some reason that I cannot explain again, I posted his story quoting his online messages to me late last year where he mentions how thankful he is to me for having recruited him to the seminary. It was only after posting the story did it dawn on me that I was indirectly revealing my being a priest in the past! I felt then that the time has come. To paraphrase a Buddhist saying, my teacher has appeared and I was ready. I gave Tess the go signal to revise the story to reveal my identity. Here is the story. The first person point of view is the writer’s style, but the content is wholly mine.

Embracing My Lost Identity

(And becoming a wounded healer)

By Danny Mendiola as told to Tess V. Atienza

I am an ex-priest.

For more than thirty years, I kept it a secret. Only my family, my parish priest, and my immediate superiors in previous jobs knew about it. Why did I keep it a secret? It was the only way I thought I could get by after I left the priesthood. But hiding my real identity has caused me depression – then and until now.

Living with my dilemma

I entered the seminary because my parents could not send me to college. A priest offered a scholarship in the seminary. I bloomed intellectually but not emotionally. I already had doubts whether I was meant for priesthood. I wanted to leave but could not decide – I felt I was too young to decide – and I wanted the decision to come from my superiors. But they said, “You’re doing well. That’s just a temptation. You stay.” My parents said, “Nakakahiya!”

I stayed and at 26, I was ordained a priest. When the honeymoon stage waned, doubts about my vocation revisited me even as I performed my priestly duties well. I was restless, unhappy, and felt imprisoned, unable to do what I wanted to do. At that time I had desires of raising my own family even if I didn’t have a girlfriend. Two years into my ordination, I requested for a leave of absence to sort things out, but my superior said, “Oh, maybe you just need a boost in your academic life.” So he sent me to Manila. I took a guidance counseling course which helped me see that I was not really meant for priesthood. Still, I could not decide to leave, so I lived with my dilemma for five more years.

In August 1976, a very strong earthquake hit Mindanao. The building I was staying in collapsed; fortunately, I was able to escape. I gathered my students and we helped other victims. After a week of doing that, I started vomiting and had fever for no reason at all. The doctors did not find anything wrong with me. But one perceptive lady doctor said, “Father, you better leave the city. You should not see any trace of the earthquake.” I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I approached my superior and requested for a leave of absence, not just to recover, but to think things through. The words finally came, “Father, I want to leave the priesthood.” He approved my leave of absence.

I looked for a job to support myself but I faced a lot of rejection from many of the companies where I applied for work. They rejected me whenever they learned that I was a priest. In between short-lived jobs that I was fortunate enough to get, I went through psychiatric tests, counseling, and guided retreats. These gave me the courage to make a decision. When my one-year leave was up, I went back to my superior and applied for a dispensation. After six months, it was granted.

Traces of an unhealthy childhood

Born during the war to a poor family, a middle child among seven siblings, lacked parents’ affirmation and attention, didn’t excel much in school, and had to be content with hand-me-downs – these characterized my childhood. I came out of it with a very low self-esteem, prone to self-pity and self-introspection. When a problem comes my way, the first thing I would do is think of the worst scenario. Unknowingly, a lot of unresolved issues were operating in me and affected the way I faced crises in my life.
Life after priesthood

Finding a job was my first priority after priesthood. As in the previous year, when potential employers found out that I was an ex-priest, they told me to look for a job elsewhere. One even said, “Go to a priest, confess your sins and go back to being a priest.” That I already had my dispensation did not make any difference. This caused me so much pain and pushed me to hide my identity as an ex-priest. I deleted it from my resume – and buried it in a secret corner of my heart…

A couple of years later, I got married and raised my own family. My wife was, and still is, a blessing to me. She gave me the much-needed support as I adjusted back to being a layman.

Coping with depression

I am not yet completely healed from my past hurts. There are times when I still go into fits of depression and I’d cry to God, “When will these end? Why don’t You just show yourself to me and tell me what to do?”

Prayer, physical exercise, writing, talking to trusted friends – these are my coping mechanisms whenever I feel depressed. I find joy in sharing my thoughts in my blogsite. I don’t take anxiety-reducing pills because of my allergies.

Wounded healer

Just thinking what other people would say now that I have decided to reveal my past causes me anxiety. A fine priest once told me, “It is not your obligation to explain to the world why you left the priesthood. You left because it wasn’t for you. People evolve, and so do you.” I find peace in that thought.

These days, I am taking it slow as I recuperate from my open-heart surgery last year. I nearly died of heart attack while serving as a volunteer chaplain in a hospital in Hawaii. Luckily, 911 came just in time.

Today, I serve as a volunteer counselor in our parish. Seeing a counselee walk out of the counseling room feeling hopeful about his life brings me hope, too.

Now I know why. I still have a mission to fulfill. I have become a wounded healer even as I slowly try to embrace my lost identity and rise up from my own woundedness. (Article ends here.)

A final word

I knew God was not done with me yet, when I survived my heart attack and the subsequent open heart by-pass surgery. Today, I recall a quote from my favorite prophet Jeremiah (29,11) “For I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”