I had an unexpected reaction at Mass a couple of weeks ago.
When our pastor mentioned the election of our new pope, I felt a deep and overwhelming wave of emotion well up inside me. The tears wouldn’t stop. I quietly slipped out during the homily to compose myself. I have to admit that I was shocked by the intensity of my response.
A Time of Grief and Reflection
You see, I’ve been struggling in many ways since the death of Pope Francis. I’m realizing that others may be feeling something similar. If you are, I want you to know that you’re not alone.
I was embarrassed when my husband, out of love and concern, told me that he had shared with our priest how difficult this transition has been for me. Until then, I hadn’t spoken much about it. Sometimes, no matter how much we pray or try to process things quietly, our emotions refuse to stay buried.
To be clear, my struggle isn’t just about the new pope. It’s about the Catholic Church as a whole—the human side. Even years after my own abuse, I sometimes wrestle deeply with the imperfections.
I know I’m not alone in saying that major transitions within the Church often stir up grief. The election of a new pope, especially, reopens wounds. Those wounds aren’t perhaps as raw as they once were, but they still sting. During these times, we feel more vulnerable place than usual.
Celebrating can be Complicated
Like many Catholics, I’m still learning about Pope Leo. Unlike many, I haven’t felt the pure joy that others seem to express. That makes me feel guilty—like I’m a “bad Catholic.” But survivors have been through a lot. I’ve lived it, and I’ve seen it in my work with other survivors. Sadly, I’ve heard and seen too much to jump quickly into celebration.
It’s also been painful to hear some people speaking of Pope Francis with near-canonization. I won’t pretend to know the state of his soul, but I do believe we can and should evaluate a leader’s actions. We can be loving and honest about how someone has responded to suffering and injustice. My grief over the last pope’s passing may differ from the average Catholic’s. There is sadness, yes—but also deep frustration and sorrow over the harm that was left unacknowledged and unhealed.
A Guarded Hope
We’ve now welcomed a new pope. Truly, I have rejoiced, but much more cautiously than most. My walls are up. I’m choosing not to pass judgment, but I’m also tired of bracing myself with every new leader. I long to trust without hesitation. I want to be full of hope and at peace. A part of me is simply bracing for disappointment. I know I’m not alone in that.
If you’re waiting for the perfect pope (or any perfect leader, religious or otherwise), you’ll be waiting forever. I’ve made peace with that. Survivors like me aren’t looking for perfection. We’re looking for human decency, truth, honesty, and above all, holiness. What matters most is not a pope’s popularity, eloquence, or nationality. It’s whether he is a faithful, courageous, and holy leader. Will he protect the vulnerable? Will he guide us with not just beautiful words, but real action? Will he help heal? Will he resist evil? Will he follow in the footsteps of St. Peter, the first pope?
Triggers and Trust
As a survivor, my nervous system tends to live in fight-or-flight—or freeze—mode. Big changes can trigger one or another or sometimes all of them at once. Lately, I’ve found myself hovering somewhere in between: unsure, anxious, emotionally raw. I didn’t expect to feel so thrown off. I’ve been trying to process everything through prayer. Despite our best efforts, pain often rises to the surface. It sure has for me.
Staying in the Church Isn’t Easy
Lately, I’ve felt overwhelmed with guilt, confusion, and spiritual disorientation. Again and again, I have to remind myself: the Church is not built on any one pope. I am here for Christ.
Believe me, I still get frustrated that, even after all these years, it’s still so hard.
I love the Church. I love my faith. They are among my greatest treasures. Staying in the Church has also been one of my greatest crosses. It’s not easy. It never has been.
Sometimes Catholic media or others paint me as a kind of “poster child” for survivors. “She’s still here! She didn’t leave! If she can do it, what’s your excuse?” Meanwhile, people don’t see how I struggle. I’m just a woman doing her best to remain faithful and hopeful, to stay rooted in Christ, and to heal a little more each day.
You are not Alone
I’m sharing this now because I don’t want anyone else to feel as alone as I did that day. If you’re feeling unsettled, conflicted, or even grief-stricken amid this transition in the Church, please know: you are not alone. You are not “less Catholic.” You are not lacking in faith. You’re human.
Please be kind to yourself. I’ll be keeping all of you who are struggling in my prayers. Let us unite in prayer for our beloved Church and Pope Leo XIV.
