A Change of Habit tells my story of leaving an outwardly glamorous but inwardly soul-crushing career to join a convent in rural New Jersey. In my twenties and thirties, I was a photo editor at various Hollywood ad agencies, auditioning for acting roles on the side without ever breaking through. I was a painfully shy, underpaid peon who spent her days being yelled at by clients strung out on cocaine. This mixed poorly with my fear of disappointing people, which followed me everywhere. At cocktail parties, I’d get dry heaves and have to run to the bathroom or slip out the back. I finally hit rock bottom when I found out that my husband—my gentle, seemingly devoted husband of only one year—had been cheating on me with multiple other women.

For years, the idea of joining a convent had tugged at me for reasons I didn’t understand. As a little kid growing up in the '70s, I'd watched the sitcom The Flying Nun, and seen Audrey Hepburn in The Nun's Story, and thought…that’s me. Decades later, I rarely went to church and didn’t know the first thing about being a nun. Could a chronically fidgety, pop culture-obsessed woman of the world ever fit it? And I’d have to pray how many times per day? My family (and therapist) thought I was crazy when I raised the idea. They reasoned that I was just afraid of being alone and resorted to reassuring me that of COURSE I could find love again! But the voice in my head calling me to a simpler, quieter life kept getting louder. One of my biggest concerns was resolved when I discovered that the Episcopal order, unlike other parts of the church, was open and accepting of the LGBTQ community, which was a nonnegotiable for me. 

That’s how I found myself at the Community of St. John Baptist, just 40 miles away from Manhattan, straightening my habit nervously as I walked into the convent. I’d live alongside 11 other sisters who’d taken the same vow of poverty…indefinitely? It didn’t take long for me to think that I might’ve just made a terrible mistake. The other nuns struck me as slightly cold and disapproving. My inner people pleaser was convinced that they didn’t like me. That I was a bad nun.

It took months for me to realize that the other nuns were shy, not cold—much like me. And I started to see why. The culture at the convent didn't exactly encourage us to open up. We weren’t supposed to give each other compliments, or even say “please” or “thank you,” for example. I understood the reasoning behind the rule—acts of generosity should be freely given and received—but in practice, it was stamping out any sparks of connection. It took some doing, but I channeled my inner executive and got the policy against compliments changed. Slowly, relationships started to blossom, first awkwardly and then more easily. It didn’t hurt that we’d all taken a vow to live together through thick and thin. If I said the wrong thing, or even lost my temper—though of course I was in the habit of keeping it all bottled up—I wasn’t going to get thrown out or rejected. One day, I even raised my voice to a (gentle) yell. It was glorious. The years ahead were full of surprises. Who would have predicted that Sister Kristina Marie, the one I believed had deeply disliked me from the start, would turn out to be a huge hugger, or that “I love you” would sneak into our weekly conversations?

A Change of Habit is my story of choosing a “radical” lifestyle—which in reality, sometimes looks like spending an afternoon trying to keep the neighborhood goat from running wild in the garden—and discovering how much I could say yes to when I said no to the things I believed would make me happy. For the record, I do have high speed internet, and very much enjoy TikTok, but I’ve closed the door on having children, buying new clothes, or “making it” as an actress—or trying to “make it” anywhere. Now, you won’t be surprised to hear that becoming a nun isn’t the right choice for most people. Nor is it the only way to carve out space in your heart and life for quiet peace to bubble up. Distancing yourself from the endless rat race and the false promises of consumerism is countercultural enough—and I’ve watched countless others learn to make peace with their bodies, honor their anger, find healing in small acts of nurture, and ultimately, come back home to themselves, all while living in this gorgeously messy world of ours. This book is for anyone who feels like they’ve spent years wearing a mask and letting other voices drown out their own. When you think to yourself, "I can't go on like this," you're right—you can't. And you don't have to. 

Pre-order A Change of Habit here.

1992 Groundlings Sunday Company

The Groundlings Sunday Company 1992. Sister Monica is second from the right on the bottom row