It’s Okay If You’re Not Grateful This Thanksgiving: Healing from Religious Trauma During the Holidays
Thanksgiving is supposed to be the season of gratitude — or at least, that’s what the world tells us. Leaves change, temperatures drop, grocery stores overflow with cranberries and pumpkin pie, and everywhere you look you’re reminded to “give thanks.”
But for many survivors of religious trauma, this time of year brings something very different: a knot in the stomach you can’t quite explain, a heaviness in your chest, or that familiar pressure to just be grateful even when it feels completely out of reach.
It’s okay if gratitude isn’t one of your feelings this year.
And if you grew up in high-control religion, you might remember how gratitude wasn’t just encouraged — it was expected. Required. Sometimes even used to judge any struggle as a lack of faith.
Maybe you heard sermons about “giving thanks in all circumstances”, even when for you those circumstances included emotional harm, spiritual manipulation, or a community that was starting to feel unsafe. Maybe you were praised for having an “attitude of gratitude” while quietly falling apart. Maybe you learned early on that expressing anything other than gratefulness made you appear unfaithful, selfish, or “too much.”
So when Thanksgiving rolls around — with its pressure to feel grateful about everything — it can stir up a complicated mix of emotions.
Here’s the truth you may need to hear:
You’re not broken, and you’re not ungrateful. You’re human — and you’ve survived things that would shake anyone.
Why Gratitude Can Feel Impossible After Religious Trauma
Practicing gratitude can be a helpful mental health tool. It can reduce stress, cultivate presence, and support healing. But that only works when gratitude is a choice — not a requirement.
In many religious environments, gratitude was used as a spiritual shortcut:
“Just be thankful and stop worrying — God promises to take care of you.”
“God is using this for your good.”
“You should be grateful for the trials — they’re testing your faith.”
Statements like these can teach you to override your emotions, suppress your intuition, and minimize your pain. Gratitude becomes a form of emotional bypassing instead of a meaningful practice.
So when you’ve left a high-control system and are finally feeling the full weight of what you experienced, gratitude may be one of the last emotions that shows up.
This Thanksgiving, you’re allowed to honor whatever is true inside you. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s inconvenient. Even if it doesn’t look like what everyone else is feeling.
Below are some of the most common emotional responses I see in religious trauma survivors this time of year.
Grief: Mourning What Was Lost (and What Never Got to Be)
Religious trauma often brings a kind of grief that is hard to explain to people who haven’t lived it. It’s not just sadness — it’s layered and complex.
You might be grieving:
The friendships that faded when you began questioning
The “second family” that no longer feels safe
The years you invested in a system that harmed you
The worldview you once clung to
The person you could’ve become without fear and shame
This grief is real. It’s legitimate. And it deserves space.
Guilt: The Reflex You Were Taught
Many survivors carry heavy guilt — even when they can logically name that they didn’t cause the harm.
You might think:
“I should’ve seen the red flags.”
“Why didn’t I listen to my gut feelings?”
“Other people had it worse — maybe I’m overreacting.”
“I feel guilty that my kids experienced this too.”
High-control religions often teach you that you are fundamentally flawed — that you’re the problem. So guilt becomes a knee-jerk emotional reflex, even in situations where you were the one being harmed.
This internalized guilt is a leftover survival strategy from a system that conditioned you to believe everything was your fault.
You don’t have to keep holding that weight. It never should have been put on you in the first place.
Anxiety: When Your Whole World Gets Shaken
Questioning or leaving a religious system you once trusted can shake you to your core. It’s terrifying to poke holes in the worldview that once gave you identity, structure, and meaning — even if that worldview was hurting you.
Common anxious thoughts might include:
“Are people at church talking about me?”
“Am I going to hell for leaving? Is there even a hell?”
“What if everything I believe now is wrong?”
“Will I ever find a place I feel like I belong again?”
This level of fear keeps your nervous system on high alert. You’re bracing for impact — for judgment, rejection, or spiritual consequences that were drilled into you for years.
Anger: The Emotion You May Have Been Taught to Fear
Anger can feel frightening, especially if you were raised to believe it was sinful, dangerous, or “of the flesh.”
But anger has a purpose — it’s the part of you that recognizes injustice. It’s the part that knows, deep down, “I deserved better.”
Anger doesn’t mean you’re bitter. It doesn’t mean you’re unforgiving. It means your self-worth is waking back up.
Loneliness: The Painful Side of Leaving
When you question or leave high-control religion, relationships often shift in painful ways. People who once felt like family may distance themselves. Relationships that you used to rely on may feel different now. You may feel disconnected from the community that shaped your entire life. The irony is heartbreaking:
You need support the most in the same moment many of your supports fall away.
And, loneliness after leaving or questioning a high-control religious system is normal. When belonging and acceptance are tied to obedience and belief, stepping away can create distance from people you once relied on.
It’s okay to feel that gap. At the same time, this season of isolation doesn’t have to last forever. Connections can be rebuilt on your terms — with people who see and respect you for who you are, not for how closely you follow a set of rules.
So What Do You Do With All of This?
First, you allow it. Every emotion — even the uncomfortable ones — is a signal from your internal world. Emotions are information. They illuminate what you need, what hurt you, what you’re longing for, and what deserves attention.
Psychologist Diana Fosha described emotions as “the experiential arc between the problem and the solution.” In other words, your feelings are the bridge. When you give yourself permission to feel them, you often gain the clarity and grounding you need to heal and move forward.
When you try to suppress them — especially in the name of gratitude — they don’t disappear. They simply go underground.
So this Thanksgiving, here’s your gentle reminder:
You do not owe anyone a performance of gratitude.
You do not have to be grateful for harm.
You are allowed to feel whatever is true for you this season.
Your emotions are not the enemy. They are your compass.
A Final Word (and an Invitation)
This list isn’t exhaustive, but I hope it helps you name some of what might be stirring inside you this November. If you’re a survivor of religious trauma or spiritual abuse, you have full permission to tune out the cultural noise of “just be thankful” and tune into your own inner experience instead.
Healing begins with honoring your humanity — not bypassing it.
If you want support navigating this season, therapy can be a safe place to begin making sense of your emotions, your story, and your path forward. I’d be honored to help.
Reach out today to request a free consultation.