Sticky questions, personal answers:

The Religious Trauma Network’s team mashup.

What sensations, tensions, or patterns have you noticed in your body that might be connected to past religious experiences?

Accepting Blog Submissions: April–June, 2026

The Religious Trauma Network is pleased to announce our next guest blog series for April–June, 2026. We invite thoughtful, compassionate submissions that explore the themes outlined below. As always, we welcome a wide range of perspectives, religious backgrounds, and lived experiences.

Please note: Submissions that self‑promote (books, blogs, businesses, podcasts, etc.) will not be considered.

Why would children or adults say their hearts are dark or dirty? For those who experienced relational trauma as children, this feeling now can be understood as shame—but religious teachings most often give it a different name—sin.

High-control, fear-based religious environments leave deep marks on a child’s development. Survivors often carry those marks into adulthood as anxiety, shame, confusion, and a deep mistrust of themselves—not because they are broken, but because their systems were shaped in ways no child should have to endure. What felt “normal” back then may finally make sense when you see how fear, shame, and control interacted with your developing brain, body, and sense of self.

One of the defining characteristics of childhood is—or should be—innocence. Theologies and teachings that deny the innocence of the child do great harm by placing adult thinking and motivations on the developing minds of children. A child is innocent by definition—they lack the cognitive ability to willfully and purposefully express evil in the ways that are possible for adults.

For years after my accident, I lived in two separate realities.

In one reality, I carried the memory of a perfect, unconditional love. In the suspended stillness after my car was crushed, I had been held by a Presence so vast and loving that it felt like the source of all existence. It was an experience of pure Spirit, of being known and loved completely, beyond the limits of a body.

In the other reality, I was trapped in a body that had become a prison. My bones were shattered, my nerves screamed, and every physical therapy session was a battle against a flesh that felt like it had betrayed me. The peace I had glimpsed felt like a taunt, a beautiful dream I couldn't wake into.

Nothing says innocence any better than a newborn baby! How could our excitement over a precious new life be anything but healthy? Remarkably, what we believe about this baby is where the seeds of Religious Trauma (RT) can begin.

Neurodiverse kids with ADHD, autism, OCD, anxiety, or other neurodivergent wiring - raised in fundamentalist, high-demand Christian worlds often felt like square pegs hammered into round, heaven-or-hell holes. Your brain was doing what brains do, but the environment demanded a very specific shape: quiet, compliant, perfectly pious, always performing. When you didn’t fit, it wasn’t seen as a wiring difference. It was a spiritual defect or conversely, your masking was glorified. And that mismatch left marks that make total sense when you look back.

Not every childhood story of Religious Trauma (RT) is the same. Yet, several consistent themes occur in the lives of children who grow up in religious communities. To illustrate this, I will begin with the story of three children. Every story is different.

Many adults who grew up in church describe a confusing experience later in life. They may still value faith, Scripture, or Jesus, yet feel anxiety, shame, or fear surface in worship spaces, prayer, or conversations about sin, Satan, and hell. Others have stepped away from Christianity entirely, often naming childhood religious trauma as a central reason.

Accepting Blog Submissions: January-March, 2026

The Religious Trauma Network is pleased to announce our next guest blog series for January-March, 2026. We invite thoughtful, compassionate submissions that explore the themes outlined below. As always, we welcome a wide range of perspectives, religious backgrounds, and lived experiences.

Please note: Submissions that self‑promote (books, blogs, businesses, podcasts, etc.) will not be considered.

Sticky questions, personal answers:

The Religious Trauma Network’s team mashup.

What’s one thing you wish your loved ones understood about your healing?

As I walk this winding pathway of healing, I spend time taking care of my emotional and mental health and well-being…something I was told was not legitimate, did not deserve, and involved people who could not be trusted. As I am doing so, I am discovering things about myself and my journey that I wish other people could better understand.   

Sticky questions, personal answers:

The Religious Trauma Network’s team mashup.

What’s one red flag you wish you’d recognized sooner?

I was 17 when I walked away from the church I was raised in. I didn’t leave because I stopped loving God. I left because I couldn’t stay in a system that was clearly harming people. I grew up in a world shaped by Fundamentalist theology: rigid, rule-heavy, and deeply controlling. On the surface, it looked like holiness: clean-cut families, bold preaching, strong convictions. But beneath that polished exterior, I saw something much darker. There was spiritual manipulation, emotional control, authoritarian leadership, and both emotional and sexual abuse.

When someone you love says, “Religion or faith hurt me,” it can feel like the ground shifts beneath you. Maybe you’re surprised, heartbroken, confused—or unsure what to say next. You might feel protective of your faith tradition, or grieve the loss of shared beliefs. You might worry about saying the wrong thing, or feel helpless watching someone you care about wrestle with spiritual pain.

When your experience felt unsettling or “off,” yet you couldn’t quite find the language to explain why, it became easy to downplay what had happened. Abuse probably wasn’t a word in your mind’s vocabulary, let alone your thoughts. You probably thought it was just a rough “season”, spiritually speaking, maybe you even chalked it up to a “bad church experience”. Worse than dismissing your own pain, you may have begun to believe that you were the problem.

For many survivors of religious trauma, the process of learning to think critically isn’t just intellectual—it’s deeply emotional. When unquestioned beliefs were once tied to safety, belonging, or identity, challenging those beliefs can feel destabilizing. That’s why we created this resource: You’re Allowed to Change Your Mind: A critical thinking guide for survivors of religious coercion or high-demand groups.

Sticky questions, personal answers:

The Religious Trauma Network’s team mashup.

How has your understanding of forgiveness changed over time?

The Religious Trauma Network is pleased to announce our next guest blog series for October, November, and December 2025. We invite submissions that thoughtfully explore the themes outlined below, while upholding our core values of respect and empowerment.