When a Simple Mistake Feels Like a Sin: Healing After Religious Trauma

Last night I got cocky 💃🏻.

I thought I had a good handle on my next-day schedule — personal appointments, gym time, client sessions — so I decided I didn’t need to look at my calendar. I was good to go.

“I’m on top of it,” I thought. “No need to check tomorrow’s schedule because I already know what’s happening.” I’m a creature of habit, after all. “Tomorrow’s Wednesday. On Wednesday I have my Wednesday things. Duh.”

Fast forward to this morning. I woke up, made coffee, watched the hummingbirds outside my window, and then sat down to answer a few emails before getting ready and heading out the door at 9 a.m.

Around 8:00, I heard the ding of a calendar reminder but ignored it — I assumed it was one of my usual first-of-the-month task alerts. A few minutes later, I looked just to clear them out… and I was being reminded that I had an appointment at… 8:15.

“That can’t be right,” I thought. “Why would I schedule something that early?? The horror!”

But sure enough, it all came back. I had scheduled an earlier appointment this morning to make space for other things later in the day. I looked at the clock — 8:07. Still in pajamas. Coffee in hand. There was zero chance I was making it.

And that’s when it hit — that familiar old waves of panic, guilt, and shame from my time in high-control religion. Thoughts like:

• “I really messed this up.”

• “People are going to be disappointed.”

• “This is proof I’m irresponsible.”

I texted the person I was supposed to meet:

“Hi! I had it in my head that was coming in at 9:15 today, but my calendar just sent me a reminder that it was actually 8:15 🤦🏻‍♀️ Unfortunately I can’t get there in 8 minutes. So sorry!”

And as my brain started drafting an over-the-top apology to send next — complete with self-deprecating humor and dramatic explanations to diffuse any potential upset feelings or judgment (i.e. “Not how I thought I’d be starting my morning!” “I really backed myself into a clusterfuck!” “Normally I have my shit together!” “I blame my fluctuating hormones!” “I promise I’m usually responsible!”) — their text came through:

“Good morning, Christine! Would you like to come in at 9:15 instead?”

And just like that, I snapped out of whatever spiral I was headed down and recalibrated to the very reasonable response I’d just received.

I looked at my calendar, realized that would work, texted back “Yes — thank you!” and sat for a moment reflecting on the little emotional rollercoaster I had just ridden.

When a Simple Mistake Feels Like a Moral Crisis

When you grow up in high-control religion, messing up isn’t just messing up — it’s a moral failure.

You’re taught that being “good” means being right, responsible, and obedient at all times. Your worth is tied to how perfectly you can keep it together. So when you forget something or make a mistake — when you act like a human — it’s treated as proof something is wrong with you.

That conditioning runs deep. Even years later, your body might still respond to small mistakes like they’re spiritual crises. You forget an appointment, and suddenly it feels feels like evidence that you’re careless or unreliable or like you’ve disappointed everyone — including God.

It’s not about the appointment. It’s about what you were taught mistakes mean.

When you spend years being told that being “good” means being flawless, you forget that imperfection is part of being alive.

Religious Trauma and Learning to Live Like a Person, Not a Project

One of the hardest parts of healing from religious trauma is learning how to simply be a person again.
Not a walking morality test.
Not a constant self-improvement project.

Not someone on the verge of sin or failure.

Just… a person.

High-control religion doesn’t leave much space for that. It trains you to see yourself in extremes — either humble or prideful, holy or sinful, totally fine or completely broken. There’s no middle ground for, “I made a mistake, and it’s not the end of the world.”

Healing means reclaiming that middle ground.

It means being able to make a mistake without turning it into a character indictment. You can forget something, apologize if needed, and move on. You can feel confident without assuming you’re prideful, or rest without worrying you’re lazy.

It might sound small, but for those of us who spent years walking on eggshells trying not to be “bad,” this kind of self-trust is radical. It’s what healing actually looks like — not perfection, but permission.

Relearning the “Oops”

When I got that text back — “Would you like to come in at 9:15 instead?” — my nervous system didn’t know what to do with the ease of it.

There was no lecture. No moral correction. No “You should’ve been more responsible.” Just an easy, human, problem-solving response.

It was such a small thing, but it reminded me how often I used to brace for punishment or rejection after making mistakes.

Healing from religious trauma is a series of these quiet recalibrations — moments when you expect judgment but receive grace. When you brace for rejection but are met with understanding. When you forget something, say “oops,” and the world keeps turning.

The Lesson

When simple, honest mistakes happen, it’s okay to say “oops” — and not brace for the world to end.

You don’t have to over-apologize.
You don’t have to prove you’re still good.
You don’t have to assume you’ve disappointed anyone.

You can just be a human who forgot something on a Wednesday morning — and still be worthy of kindness, belonging, and self-compassion.

Because healing from religious trauma isn’t just about unpacking doctrine or deconstructing theology.
It’s about learning, over and over again, that being human was never the problem.

Ready to Begin Healing?

If this resonates with you and you’re ready to start healing from the shame and perfectionism of high-control religion, I’d love to support you. I’m a licensed therapist specializing in religious trauma, spiritual abuse, and purity culture, and I’m currently accepting new clients in California, Florida, and Missouri.

👉 Request a free consultation below to learn more about working together and what healing could look like for you.