She was raised in a Catholic family in Koonwarra, south-east of Melbourne, and always wanted to find a community as dedicated to prayer and religion as she was.
In her early teens, she had read the story of Carmelite nun St Therese of Lisieux. Dedicating her own life to religious service became appealing.
"I wanted to grow into someone like her," Ms Hughes said. "I believed that to live in her way, I needed to become a Carmelite nun."
Carmelite nuns are Catholic religious women who belong to the Order of Carmel, a largely cloistered order devoted to prayer, contemplation and a simple way of life.
Ms Hughes would spend 60 years with the Carmelites, rising up the ranks to the position of Superior at the Wagga Wagga Carmelite monastery in NSW.
But now aged 78, Ms Hughes looks back on her time with the Carmelite monastery as deeply restrictive and a breach of her trust.
She told the ABC the order she joined was more strict than others she met in Australia and around the world, which is why she thinks the Melbourne order specifically is a fringe group.
She doesn't believe they live the "Carmelite life". Instead, she told a Victorian parliamentary inquiry into cults and fringe groups, she believes the order preyed on her innocence and devout faith.
Alleged controlling behaviours
The Victorian parliament is investigating cults and fringe groups, including how they recruit and control people and whether the state’s laws around such groups are strong enough.
Ms Hughes made a detailed submission to the inquiry in August, alleging that her nearly 60 years in the monastery was defined by a pattern of controlling and restrictive behaviours.
She described the environment as "crushing and controlling, [taking] the humanity out of life".
After officially entering the monastery and donning her Carmelite attire, she was taken into a room to see her parents.
"It was the first time that I ever saw my mother cry," Ms Hughes said.
"It hurt her very deeply, and I didn't know that. I was just so thrown into the life and it was so structured and controlled that I didn't have time to think."
Ms Hughes said she was isolated from friends and family.
Immediate family visits were permitted, but took place on either side of a metal grille and were supervised by a senior member of the monastery.
Ms Hughes cried at the inquiry when she recalled that the grille was barely wide enough to allow two fingers through, preventing any meaningful physical contact.
Younger novices would put on concerts to entertain the "unassailable" prioress, or head nun, as well as other monastery officers.
When Ms Hughes challenged the prioress's authority, she said she was called insane and moved to new duties.
"I would now describe my life of surrender from beginning to end as extreme, secretive personal deconstruction sanctified by the prioresses and their followers," Ms Hughes told the inquiry.
Still, she said she was struck by the monastery’s “aura of peace” and was soon immersed in work, cleaning the house and labelling the skincare and perfume it produced.
A life of secrecy
Life at the monastery included strict adherence to rules and a lack of secrecy, Ms Hughes said.
Mistakes would require "a grand prostration" on the floor at the foot of the prioress.
Incoming and outgoing mail was read, and close friendships within the monastery were discouraged.
She could never speak to her family about what she experienced and her possessions, provided by her parents when she entered, all disappeared.
"You couldn't write about anything emotional; you couldn't have any critique of what went on inside," Ms Hughes told the ABC.
She said sisters and novices were expected to undertake self-flagellation and penances at Lent until the mid-1970s and were given whips and wire to do so.
Pain and discomfort were considered virtuous and a gift to God and pain relief was rarely given.
Ms Hughes said it was humiliating having to ask permission for basics like sanitary pads and toothbrushes.
She told the inquiry she was registered as a company director of the monastery community without her consent.
She was appointed bursar, but was not allowed to view the financials.
"I had no understanding of what it was to be a bursar. I had no competency or level of experience or additional education that would make me suitable. Nobody did," Ms Hughes said.
Opening up
During the inquiry, Ms Hughes accused multiple senior church figures of enabling the abuse she alleges took place at the monastery.
Telling her story has helped Ms Hughes reclaim her voice.
"I was once at home in the world, and I gave it all away and was controlled, and now I'm beginning to find my real self," she said.
Her life is now filled with firsts, from friendships to haircuts.
Her first haircut without a habit was a traumatic experience, as she realised she had control over how she could look.
Another source of panic has been deciding what to wear; as a nun, it was something she never had to worry about.
Ms Hughes has tried adventure sports and climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
"I feel very, very insecure starting at 78 to experience real, connected life," she said.
"It's confusing, debilitating, when you're panicking because you don't know which direction the trams go in or how to navigate the world."
Coming to terms with lost life
Ms Hughes said therapy has helped her learn more about herself and confront what she's lost, like family and fertility.
"I was deprived of getting to know my family for all those years," she said.
"My parents have both died, [and] my two sisters.
"Now I'm just beginning to get to know my brother, and he's 80 in December, and to be part of the family gatherings for Christmas and celebrating the grandchildren is such a beautiful thing."
Now, two years out of the monastery, she said she was feeling more positive about life.
"I have nothing but blessings to count, because I can experience reality now and I can experience the shared fragility of what real faith takes," she said.
Monastery subject to oversight, archbishop says
In response to Ms Hughes' allegations, Catholic Archbishop of Melbourne Peter Comensoli said the history of Melbourne's Carmelite community in Kew spanned more than 100 years.
"The Order of Discalced Carmelites Melbourne remains committed to a life of prayer, contemplation, and service — values at the heart of the Carmelite vocation across the world," he said.
"Any suggestion that the community operates otherwise does not reflect its lived reality."
"When a Sister no longer feels that the Carmelite values are shaping her life in the way they once did, she is free to discern a different path. Sister Maria chose to do so, with the Order’s support," the Order of Discalced Carmelites Melbourne said in a statement.