Thanks for ready Part 1 of, “Distilling Therapy: 7 Questions My Therapist Missed.” (However, if you did not read Part 1, you might want to do that now.)
Please join me in diving deeper into questions that can help revolutionize healing for those recovering from religious trauma, high-demand groups or authoritarian structures.
Finding a trauma professional isn't as easy as it seems. (Although in recent years, it's getting easier!) Here are a few of my own experiences and lessons learned - from a survivor perspective, not a professional one.
When I first began questioning the version of faith I had been taught, I was paralyzed by the fear of the infamous "slippery slope" I'd heard about countless times. In my religious community, anything that deviated from our collective beliefs was labeled as dangerous, sinful, or bad.
When I was about twenty, a friend dubbed me "Baptist Girl." This nickname wasn't just about the church I attended; it encapsulated my entire lifestyle.
I was the epitome of a "good Christian girl," meticulously following every rule and expectation. I looked the part, spoke the language, and walked the walk with unwavering dedication.
Recently, someone gave my husband a bag of Tootsie Roll Pops. I ate one today and suddenly, I was back in Sunday School.
Funny how our minds and nervous systems work. I don't remember why Tootsie Roll Pops and Sunday School are connected, but my body does.
With one taste of that candy and my memory escorted me back to Mrs. Harris* and her less than 5-foot-tall frame, legs swinging as she sat atop some large piece of furniture in the classroom. She died when I was about 10 and it's the first time I remember feeling grief.
Care Bears are part of my Religious Trauma story, so when I found this mug at an estate sale with and the quote, “Love is great for growing things,” it all made healing sense I should get it.
Inside fundamentalist and control based religious environments, love is often mocked. “Those people just believe that LOVE fixes everything...that’s not true...you need Jesus combined with Holy living, to call out sin and to live by these specific Biblical principles…”
One would assume that the church would be a place of acceptance and love, grace and belonging, but instead, many enmeshed within a church culture find it a place, which feeds intense shame. Why is this?
Hey there, friend. Can we talk about something that's been weighing on my heart lately? It's about how love sometimes gets twisted in Christian homes, turning into a tool for control instead of the beautiful, unconditional thing it's meant to be.
You know that feeling when you're a kid, and your mom promises you can go to your best friend's house on Saturday? You're so excited, counting down the days. But then Saturday morning rolls around, and you forget to clean your room on Friday. Suddenly, that play date you've been looking forward to all week? It's gone. Poof. Just like that. "If you can't be responsible at home," they said, "you don't get to go out and have fun."
Did you grow up in a high-demand religion or a cult? Have you ever felt like an outsider to life and couldn’t put into words exactly why? If so, you are not alone and perhaps, what I explain in this article will resonate with you.
One day as I was having a conversation about my childhood (and subsequent religious trauma recovery journey) with a dear friend of mine, Dr. Paulette Bethel, she suddenly said, “Rebekah, you’re a TCK!” This expression was new to me so I asked her to explain.
Parenting is such a wild ride—full of ups, downs, and everything in between. You’ve finally nailed the toddler and elementary years when, wham! You wake up one morning and now have a teenager in your home with those years full of their own challenges, developmental stages and complexities.
When you’re also carrying the weight of your own childhood trauma, parenting can often feel like an even bigger challenge. But here’s the thing: your trauma is not your child’s trauma. In fact, showing our kids how we learn, grow, and tackle tough stuff can be one of the best lessons we can give them.