5 Things Religious Trauma Survivors Say in Therapy (That You Might Relate To)
When I tell people I specialize in religious trauma therapy, I usually get one of two responses.
Sometimes, there’s confusion. “What’s that?”
Or my personal favorite: “You mean, like… cults?”
(I once answered “yes” to that question, without any further explanation because I simply did not have it in me in that moment, and the conversation screeched to a halt. The group of people I was talking to looked visibly uncomfortable. After a long, awkward silence, one of them finally said, “Neat.”)
But other times—if the person asking has been through it themselves—something shifts. Their face softens. There’s a pause, like something heavy just got named. Like they were just validated related to something they’ve carried alone for a long time.
In my work with survivors of high-control religion, I’ve noticed that certain thoughts and fears come up again and again in therapy. Different people. Different backgrounds. Different stories. But eerily similar beliefs—about their worth, their instincts, and their right to exist as their full selves.
If you’ve ever wondered whether your experiences “count” as religious trauma—or if you’ve felt like no one else would understand—this list is for you.
Here are five of the most common things I hear from religious trauma survivors in therapy—and why they matter.
1. “It’s probably just me.”
This thought shows up in so many ways:
“Everyone else seemed to thrive in church—why didn’t I?”
“Other people in my faith community didn’t struggle with this. I must be the problem.”
When you grow up in a system that silences doubt and demands conformity, you learn to turn that doubt inward. Instead of questioning the system, you start questioning yourself. If something felt off, the knee-jerk response becomes: “I’m the one who’s broken.”
But here’s the truth: it’s not just you. Many people were (and are) quietly hurting—but weren’t allowed to show it. And the ones who seemed “fine”? Some were just better at hiding their pain. Others hadn’t yet felt safe enough to name it.
You weren’t too sensitive. You were paying attention.
2. “I should be over this by now.”
So many clients come into therapy feeling frustrated with themselves.
“I left my church years ago—so why does it still hurt like this?”
There’s a cultural (and sometimes internalized) pressure to just “move on,” like religious trauma has an expiration date. But trauma—especially when it’s chronic, relational, complex, and entangled with your identity—doesn’t just vanish with time. It gets stored in your nervous system. It impacts how you see yourself, how you relate to others, and how you move through the world.
Healing isn’t linear.
It’s winding. It loops back on itself. You’ll revisit old wounds from new perspectives as you grow—and that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re healing.
3. “I feel guilty even questioning it.”
Even after leaving a faith community, many survivors carry a heavy weight of guilt just for asking questions.
“Is it okay to feel angry about my church experience?”
“What if I’m betraying my family or my faith by walking away?”
That guilt doesn’t mean you’ve done something wrong. It means you were conditioned to associate doubt with danger. In many high-control religious environments, questioning was framed as rebellion. Curiosity was discouraged. Anger was labeled as “bitterness” or “pride.”
But here’s what’s true: questioning is not a moral failure. It’s a sign of growth. It’s your mind and body trying to make sense of what didn’t sit right—what you weren’t allowed to name at the time.
And often, it’s the first step toward healing, clarity, and reclaiming your voice.
You’re allowed to explore your questions without guilt. In fact, you deserve to.
4. “I don’t know what I believe anymore—if anything.”
Faith deconstruction isn’t just about changing a few beliefs—it’s about losing the entire framework that once held your life together. And that kind of unraveling can feel disorienting and scary.
Maybe you’ve stepped away from the doctrines you were raised with, but now you’re unsure what, if anything, you believe. You might feel unanchored—adrift between the certainty you left behind and the unknown that lies ahead.
And that’s okay.
You don’t have to rush to replace old beliefs with new ones. There’s no deadline to figure it all out. Not knowing isn’t a failure—it’s a sacred, in-between space. A blank canvas. A place where something honest and whole and truly yours can begin to grow.
Spiritual healing takes time. Sometimes the most important step is simply giving yourself permission to be in the uncertainty.
5. “I don’t know who I am outside of religion.”
This one cuts deep—because for many of us, faith wasn’t just something we believed. It was our entire identity.
Religion likely shaped how you saw yourself, how you found meaning, how you made decisions, how you loved, and even what you feared.
So when you step away, it can feel like you’re standing in front of an empty canvas—both terrifying and full of possibility…
Who are you if you’re not “a good Christian”?
What does it mean to be kind, moral, or worthy—if it’s not defined by obedience or rules?
What do you want?
Who do you want to become?
These aren’t easy questions to answer. But asking them means something powerful:
You’re beginning to reclaim your voice, trust your intuition, and define your life on your own terms.
And that courage? It’s nothing short of remarkable.
If You Recognize Yourself in These Words…
Please hear this:
You’re not alone.
What you’re carrying isn’t a sign that you’re broken—it’s the result of being raised in a system that asked you to silence your mind, your body, and your intuition in the name of faith.
There is nothing wrong with you. You are someone who’s slowly, bravely untangling from beliefs that taught you not to trust yourself.
That process matters. And you deserve support as you move through it.
Ready to Take the Next Step?
If you are struggling after experiencing religious trauma or spiritual abuse, I’m here to help.
I provide therapy for religious trauma survivors in California, Florida, and Missouri—and I’d be honored to support you on your healing journey.
Click below to request a free consultation.