Losing Faith

I was in the shower when thinking about my faith. I had been receiving text messages from a seminarian (/priest-not sure which), whom I was certain I did not give my number to. Although I realize that being in Rome and lonely and whatever, you search for someone you could relate to, this was not a good thing. On February 27 marks my third year and in Rome, and I realize I am not as naive as I used to be.
Rashad once told me, be wary of strange men who are suddenly nice to you - they usually have a hidden agenda. Rashad wasn't wrong. No one man is nice and helpful because he wants to be your best friend. When I came to Rome though, I never thought that. I never thought that older men could take advantage of you, I never thought priests were human. Then again, my fault is obvious, I never thought.
I had the misconception that priests were not human. They were these chosen, enlighten few who was there to lead us normal deaf people to listen to what God was saying to us. I had befriended a lot of priests and found out that they were human. They were funny and silly yet serious and committed. In my first few months here, my only friends were priests. There was no one else, however, I appreciated their presence. It wasn't easy adjusting to a foreign land wherein I don't speak the language. Consumed by confusion and rebellion, being alone and adjusting to my parents. To being on our own, without the maid. I was relieved to have distractions. I was grateful for "friends". Yet when things started to go wrong, I didn't see the danger signs. I ignored them completely. Fr.1 was demanding time, buying my credit and expecting me to reply every time he texted me. Fr.1 was telling me what he didn't like me wearing. Fr.1 had expressed a desire of sleeping with me – that’s when I realized things weren’t normal. Fr.1's time was up in Rome and he left a few months after I had arrived. Enter Fr.2. I thought he was going to be different. I thought he was just nice because he was. I didn't see it coming and I was about to learn what would have happened if Fr.1 had stayed. Fr.2 dictated what I wore, what I bought, whom I befriended, and where I went. I did all that he asked me. I gave all he demanded. I endured it, and called it "love". But I knew it wasn't. I knew it wasn't right. I, who had always wanted a fairy tale, knew deep within me, a fairy tale wasn't going to happen with him. Not being strong enough to deal with the problem, I did the only thing I could. I prayed that he be enlightened and stop. The answer to my prayer came in December 2003, he had been asked to go back to the Philippines because there was an urgent need of a priest. He left March 2004. I cried. Relief. Happiness. Freedom. Sadness. When he was a friend, he was a very good friend. I cried because I knew I wouldn’t have him even as a friend anymore. Things were different. I was alone again. It wasn’t soon after that my ego got its boost from a seminarian. But this was nipped in the bud. I knew now, after 3 men, they were all the same, they all wanted something and could not be nice just because. With sadness and extreme disappointment, I turned away. That seminarian still calls, he wants to be friends, sincerely, but I can’t anymore. I don’t want to put myself in a compromising position, or an embarrassing one. Some lines I guess shouldn’t be crossed. There are some cases wherein you can’t go back and would simply have to deal with the consequences.
Fast forwarding to the present day, a newly arrived priest/seminarian whom with some colleagues was invited to the house and my mom fed them, decided to get my number from one of his colleagues and started texting me. At first I didn’t see the harm, but I tried to be very distant and vague. That didn’t work out all that great since he sent me a text on Christmas and New years. I didn’t have credit on Christmas so I couldn’t reply. I answered on New Years and he was pissed. Why didn’t I answer his messages, was I mad at him? Then he persisted to text me, like it was a test of his patience. Suddenly, dèjá vu. I don’t want part of this.
I saw him at church today. He helped serve in mass. I was disgusted. I couldn’t look at him and feel the presence of God. I couldn’t participate in mass.
I am a very particular catholic. I am a Filipino catholic, brought up the only way Pinoys could be. First Friday mass and retreats. Simbang gabi and singing mass songs. I love the way I celebrate my faith. I love the songs we sing (How real…how real am I to you? Panunumpa), I love the rituals and traditions we hold dear. It’s just that I can’t seem to see my religion the same way anymore. I lost my love in my faith. I will never lose faith in God, I believe in him strongly however, I can’t go on attending mass. I can’t look at those priests and remember and be disgusted, disappointed and disillusioned.
I hope one day I can regain what was lost. Nevertheless, I will have kids too one day, and if I’ve lost my faith in my religion, what will I raise them as?