Religious Trauma and the Myth of Instant Transformation

As a religious trauma therapist, I spend my days talking to clients about any number of things…rebuilding life after faith deconstruction, navigating the dating world after purity culture, exploring sexual and/or gender identity, how to deal with conservative family members, Heated Rivalry…

But recently there has been a theme coming up again and again in sessions:

Change takes time.

For many of the people I work with, that idea collides with something deeply ingrained — the belief that real change should be immediate, dramatic, and obvious.

So when progress unfolds slowly, it can feel like something isn’t working or has gone wrong.

Most people come to therapy because something needs to change.

Maybe it is a relationship dynamic.
Maybe it is a job that no longer feels sustainable or aligned with your values.
Maybe it is anxiety that will not quiet down.
Maybe it is shame that still shows up.

Whatever it is, it is uncomfortable. And when something is uncomfortable, we want relief. Not a long process.

If you grew up in high-control religion, there is often an extra layer to this impatience.

When You Were Taught That Change Is Dramatic

In many high-control religious environments, transformation is presented as immediate and unmistakable.

You go forward at the altar.
You pray the prayer.
You rededicate your life.
You share the testimony.

Before. After.
Lost. Found.
Broken. Redeemed.

There is a clear turning point. A visible emotional moment. A line in the sand.

Altar calls are often emotionally charged. Worship music swells. People cry. Leaders proclaim that God has delivered. Someone stands up and declares they are completely changed. Testimonies follow a tight narrative arc — addiction gone, doubt erased, identity restored.

The message, spoken or unspoken, is this: real change is dramatic. It is obvious. It happens in a moment.

And when that is the model of transformation you absorbed, it makes sense that you would expect your own healing from religious trauma to follow the same structure.

You may come into therapy unconsciously waiting for “the session” when everything clicks, when the shame evaporates, or when you finally feel free.

Dramatic moments of change absolutely can happen in therapy.

But for the most part, healing after religious trauma does not look like that.

It looks much less impressive.

The Quiet Nature of Real Change

More often than not, healing is quiet.

It does not announce itself.
It does not feel cinematic.
It rarely feels like victory.

Instead, it looks like this:

You notice the self-critical thought and pause instead of spiraling. You feel the urge to numb out and instead choose to go on a walk instead. You recognize that something hurt you and say it out loud instead of convincing yourself it was not that bad. You send the hard text. You schedule the appointment. You let yourself cry.

None of those moments feel like a breakthrough.

They feel small. A lot of the time they feel uncomfortable.

And because of that, it is easy to dismiss them as insignificant.

But this is where sustainable change actually happens. This is what healing after religious trauma really looks like.

Why Slow Change Feels So Frustrating

Slow change is frustrating because it lacks drama. There is no applause. No public testimony. No clear arrival point.

You still get triggered sometimes.
You still have hard conversations.
You still question yourself.

And when you are in it, it can genuinely feel like nothing is happening.

But here is what I often reflect back to clients:

You are recovering faster than you used to.
You are noticing patterns sooner.
You are tolerating discomfort instead of immediately escaping it.
You are questioning shame instead of automatically believing it.

Those are profound shifts.

And yet, they do not come with fireworks.

If you are healing from religious trauma, your nervous system is learning safety in real time. That is not dramatic work. It is repetitive. It is layered. It is slow.

And at the same time, it is deeply transformative.

Healing Is Not Linear

Another reason change can feel discouraging is because healing is not linear.

You might feel grounded for weeks and then get pulled back into old shame patterns by a holiday, a family interaction, or a sermon clip that shows up unexpectedly on social media.

That does not mean you are back at the beginning.

It means healing moves in cycles, not straight lines.

High-control religion often teaches perfection and permanence. You are either free or you are not. Healed or broken. Faithful or fallen.

Therapy introduces a much more nuanced reality.

Growth can coexist with struggle.
Confidence can coexist with doubt.
Joy can coexist with grief.

Grief Is Part of the Timeline

Healing after religious trauma is also about grief.

When you untangle yourself from high-control religion, you are often grieving:

The certainty you once had.
The community you may have lost.
The version of yourself that felt secure inside the system.
The years you spent trying to be good enough.

Grief does not move quickly.

It comes in waves. It doubles back. It resurfaces when you think you are done.

And grief work cannot be rushed without being bypassed.

If your healing feels slow, it may be because you are finally allowing yourself to feel what you were not allowed to feel before.

That is not regression.

That is integration.

Change Is Often Only Obvious in Reverse

One of the most disorienting truths about healing is that you often cannot see it clearly while it is happening.

You might only see it when you look back.

You notice that you no longer panic in situations that once consumed you.
You realize you have not engaged in a certain coping mechanism in months.
You see that your relationships feel more reciprocal.
You recognize that your inner dialogue is softer.

You may not remember the exact moment those things shifted.

Because it was not a single moment.

It was a hundred small decisions layered on top of each other.

Eventually, those layers become a new foundation.

That is how sustainable change works.

If You Are Waiting for a Breakthrough

If part of you is still waiting for the dramatic turning point — the moment where you finally feel completely healed — I want to gently say this:

You might miss the transformation that is already underway.

Healing after religious trauma is rarely flashy or sexy.

It is cumulative.

It is built in ordinary moments:

When you choose honesty over avoidance.
When you allow grief instead of bypassing it.
When you stay present during discomfort instead of shaming yourself for having it.

None of that will likely feel like “I am unstuck now” in the moment.

In fact, it may feel like you are doing it wrong because it does not feel big enough.

But when you zoom out, the evidence becomes harder to ignore.

You are responding differently.
You are tolerating more.
You are trusting yourself in ways you did not before.

Your life may not be perfect.

But it likely feels more grounded.
More intentional.
More reflective of your values.
More like something you are actively participating in rather than something that is happening to you.

That kind of change is sustainable.

It does not rely on adrenaline or emotion.
It relies on integration.

And integration takes time.

If your healing feels slow, that does not mean you are failing.

It may mean you are building something that will actually last.

Ready for Support?

If you are navigating religious trauma, faith deconstruction, or the long and often invisible process of healing from high-control religion, you do not have to do it alone.

Working with a therapist who understands religious trauma can help you:

• Recognize subtle progress you might be too close to see.

• Untangle shame that still lingers beneath the surface.

• Process grief around lost community and identity.

• Build a grounded sense of self that is not rooted in fear or performance.

If this resonates, I am accepting new clients in CA, FL, and MO - please reach out to request a free consultation by clicking the button below.

This is a space where your questions, doubts, anger, grief, and ambivalence are all welcome. There is no pressure to have it figured out. There is no expectation of a dramatic breakthrough.

Just steady, thoughtful work that honors your pace.

Healing is not a testimony moment.

It is a practice.

And you are allowed to take your time.