Warning: This story discusses spiritual abuse that may be triggering for some readers.
This is not a column against Christianity or religion in general. I know saying this off the top might put some of you on the defensive, but please trust me and keep reading. I truly believe that faith can be a vital part of someone's life, and it can be life-giving.
For me, it was a massive part of who I was since I was young. I was a Christian for more than 30 years until one church slowly, over time, destroyed my sense of self.
I will not go into the specifics of what happened to me at that church.
But I will say that every Sunday, it felt like my body had to prepare for what felt like a verbal assault that was given through the sermon, a prayer or a word from someone. I felt like a punching bag, and although the words were often not directed at me or anyone specifically, they still hit deep and accumulated over time.
At the time, I did not have the words or knowledge to describe what was going on or what I was experiencing. I would often chalk it up to a spiritual attack.
I can look back now and clearly see it was my body telling me this church was not a safe space. It was trying to sound the alarm in many ways – the slouch of my shoulders to protect myself; the constant pit in my stomach.
I remember one sunny day during the COVID-19 pandemic, a friend said to me that she believed I had experienced spiritual trauma and suggested I listen to a specific podcast episode.
I listened to it, and at my next therapy appointment, I asked my therapist if she thought I had experienced spiritual trauma. She said it much more nicely and gently but basically said "duh."
I had initially gone to therapy to work through the trauma of surviving a fatal car accident in Uganda, where some friends had tragically died, but my time at this church made my post-traumatic stress disorder much worse.
My therapist said that if I wanted to heal my initial trauma, I needed to take a break from this church. I trusted my therapist and knew this was not something she would say lightly or before I was ready to hear those words.
I decided to leave that church, and as a result, some people who were still attending were allegedly told by leadership not to communicate with me and certain other people who had also left.
This devastated me. These people had become like family to me, and they could not even talk to me.
Now, not everyone's experience at that church was the same as mine. Some had great experiences. Many other friends also left this church with deep wounds. Lots of us tried to address the problems we were seeing with those in the church, but we were often gaslit and blamed.
I know there are amazing churches out there and not all churches are spiritually abusive. But I also know that spiritual trauma can have a lasting impact if it is not worked through. I also fully believe that you can still be a part of a faith community after experiencing spiritual trauma.
After a lot of therapy, going on mental health medication for a time, and hard work, I can gladly say that I've come through on the other side. It was not easy and I am still in the process of healing and likely always will be. I also lost many friends along the way, but I can genuinely say I have never been happier or felt more like my true self.
So, what is spiritual trauma?
What is spiritual trauma? Ask the experts
Dr. Hillary McBride was one of the speakers on that impactful spiritual trauma podcast episode. McBride is a registered psychologist, author, and clinical counsellor in Victoria, B.C., specializing in trauma therapy.
Her initial interest in spiritual trauma was driven by hearing from her patients and their own experiences.
It was when she started to dig into the topic that she realized she had also experienced spiritual trauma as a child. The church community that her family was a part of when she was younger had endured a painful split.
The pastor of the church her family attended had admitted to the board to sexually abusing women in the church.
"Then when it came time to tell the church community why he was leaving, why he had essentially been fired from his job, because none of the women wanted to press charges, he denied the whole thing and so there was this scandal that erupted, and my whole family was embroiled in the middle of it, because my dad (who is a therapist) had been the person that almost all of the survivors and victims had gone to to to make disclosures about what had happened."
This is when she realized she had a term to describe what she had been through: spiritual trauma.
McBride defines spiritual trauma in a number of different ways.
"There is maybe a more concrete version, which would look at experiences of harm that have happened in a religious or spiritual context, which remain stuck and unprocessed in a person because they're normalized, because they're suppressed, because they're so ubiquitous that you can't even point to something," she said.
But there is a definition of it that McBride is trying to guide people towards: that all trauma is spiritual.
"Spirituality at the heart of what that word means; it's our inborn wired-in desire and drive to connect, to make meaning, to make sense, to ask big questions, and find the answers for what we are doing here, who are we, and how do we connect with ourselves, the natural world, and maybe something greater," she said.
As a trauma specialist, McBride thinks of spiritual trauma through the lens of connection.
"What we know about trauma is that it fractures our ability to feel safe in our bodies and safe in the world, and to trust ourselves and the way that we make meaning of life."
When we reflect on spiritual trauma, it becomes evident that all trauma carries a spiritual aspect, extending its impact beyond just religious or spiritual contexts, McBride said. Trauma fractures our sense of safety, trust, and ability to make sense of life, affecting how we relate to ourselves and others.
"The complexity around spiritual trauma is that, of course, we have these single-incident things like clergy abuse, which are clergy sexual abuse, which are horrific, and we can usually point to, 'hey, that person hurt me in this way' and there was a beginning and a last time.
"But most spiritual trauma happens in this kind of gradual unfolding way where you can't really put a beginning and an end to it, because there is so much grooming, there's so much mind control, there's so much high demand on your life that completely normalizes the installation within a social community that makes it hard to even see that anything about it is weird or off."
Asking yourself questions
So, how does one know if they are experiencing spiritual trauma and if they should stay or leave their church?
McBride encourages those in churches and places of worship where they feel they might be experiencing spiritual trauma to first validate what they are experiencing.
"Because there can be so much confusion when we're insulated in a community where you're not allowed to critically think, and you're gaslit out of knowing what you know, and disconnected from your body and so actually, just being able to stay with like, 'OK I am seeing what I'm seeing,' but then what often goes along with spiritual trauma is complete fragmentation from bodily knowing."
This means people are not allowed to trust what their bodies are saying to them, which McBride describes as a useful control strategy.
"If you disconnect people from the place inside of them that says, usually through sensation, 'I don't feel safe, this doesn't feel good, this feels like a lot,' then it's very easy to manipulate and control people and coerce them into certain things, because the body is where we often first feel and know something doesn't feel right."
For me, it was when my therapist pointed out how I would describe getting ready to watch the livestream at church during the pandemic. I felt like I was going into a fight of sorts, where I would be verbally attacked or put down. I likely would have left sooner if I had known to listen to what my body was saying. My shoulders would often slouch very far forward in a way that felt like they were trying to protect me. This was beyond bad posture.
McBride added that it is why it is important to track patterns of what your body is saying and investigate.
Leaving the church was the right decision for me, but it might not be right for everyone.
McBride explains, "As a person who writes and speaks prolifically about the harm in churches, I attend church, I'm part of faith communities. I would absolutely say that religion and spiritual practice is a vital part of my life, but there are going to be things that I look for: is this community complicit in creating traumatic experiences without the willingness to be reflective? Is this community pretending that nothing's wrong? Are there leaders or people who are speaking out that are telling the truth about what's happening, or is there one person who hurt me? Or actually, is this community fairly healthy and safe, but they're pushing on bruises from old communities that were abusive and traumatic?"
She delves more into spiritual trauma and healing and her own story in her latest book, Holy Hurt: Understanding Spiritual Trauma and the Process of Healing, which will hit bookstores on April 15, 2025. She also has a podcast called Holy Hurt that explores spiritual trauma and healing.
I have come a long way since that day in July 2021 when I decided to leave my church. I will likely never join a church community again, but I am okay with that. I am happy and have never felt more like my true self.
Resources for spiritual trauma
When Religion Hurts You, by Laura Anderson, PhD, Religious Trauma Institute, and Leaving the Fold by Psychologist Dr. Marlene Winell.
