What Is Religious Trauma? A Guide to Recognizing It, Naming It, and Healing From It

I was six or seven the first time I knew something was off.

A guest speaker came to our church. And in my memory — which honestly could be a little fuzzy or maybe blended with another time — he said nobody could leave until they spoke in tongues.

I just remember sitting there thinking, What do you mean I can't leave until I do this? That's nonsense.

I didn't have words for it. I just knew something wasn't right.

So I faked it. I made the sounds. Because even at that age, I understood that was the only way I was getting out of there.

If you've ever had a moment like that — where something felt wrong but you didn't have permission to say so — I get it. You weren't being dramatic. You weren't crazy. That gut feeling? It was real.

Church Hurt Is More Common Than You Think

For a long time, there wasn't really a name for this stuff.

People called it "church hurt." Or they said they "lost their faith." Or they just didn't talk about it at all. Because who's going to understand, right?

But here's the thing. What you went through has a name now. It's called religious trauma. And it's way more common than most people realize.

A 2023 study found that about one in three adults (One in three!?) in the U.S. have experienced religious trauma at some point. One in three. That's a lot of people walking around carrying something they've never been able to name.

When I read that, it honestly broke my heart a little. But it also just made sense. Because I've sat with so many people who thought they were the only one.

Think again.

So What Is Religious Trauma, Really?

Let me just explain it the way I would if we were sitting together.

Religious trauma is the emotional and psychological harm that comes from religious environments that use fear, shame, or control. It's what happens when faith becomes a tool for manipulation instead of connection.

And here's the thing — it usually doesn't come from one big dramatic event.

It's more like... years of being told something's wrong with you. Years of hearing God is angry, you're not enough, doubt is dangerous. It's learning that asking questions means you're rebellious. Or condemned. Or whatever.

Sometimes it's a specific person. A pastor who crossed lines. A parent who used scripture like a weapon. But sometimes it's harder to pin down. It's just an entire culture that made you feel small.

And the hardest part? It usually happens in the place you were told would be safe.

You trusted. You believed. You followed the rules.

And you still got hurt.

That kind of thing goes deep.

Signs You Might Be Dealing with Religious Trauma

Religious trauma doesn't always look like what you'd expect.

There might not be one "big thing" you can point to. But patterns show up. And once you see them, a lot starts to make sense.

So let me just ask you a few things.

Do you carry this low-level guilt or shame all the time — even when you haven't done anything wrong?

Does anything spiritual make you tense up? Certain songs, certain words, even just driving past a church?

Are you still scared of hell or punishment — even though you left years ago?

Do you have a hard time trusting yourself? Like you need someone else to tell you what's right before you can make a decision?

Do you struggle to know who you are outside the roles your church gave you?

Is it hard with family — especially the ones still in it?

Do you carry shame about your body, about sex, about your own needs?

If you're nodding, I just want you to know — nothing is wrong with you. Something happened to you. And your brain and body are still responding to it.

That's not weakness. That's just what survival looks like.

Why This is So Hard to See

Here's what makes this tricky.

The good and the bad were all tangled up together.

You might have genuinely loved your community. You might still love people in it. There was probably real beauty there. Real meaning. And also — something hurt you.

Both things can be true. That's what makes this so complicated.

You can grieve a church that wounded you and still miss it. You can be angry and still ache for that sense of belonging. You can leave and still love people who stayed.

You don't have to figure all that out to start healing. You just have to stop pretending it didn't happen.

The other thing? A lot of us were taught that questioning was the problem. That if we felt hurt, it meant we weren't faithful enough.

So we buried it. We performed. We faked it.

It can take years to realize the weight you've been carrying isn't a faith problem. It's a trauma response.

And once you see that, things start to shift.

Healing Doesn't Mean Losing Your Faith

I want to be really clear about this part. Because I think it's the thing that keeps a lot of people from getting help.

Healing from religious trauma doesn't mean you have to leave your faith.

For some people, that's where it leads. And that's okay. But for a lot of others, it's not about leaving. It's about untangling what was harmful from what's actually true.

I've worked with people who came in terrified that getting help meant turning their back on God. And I've watched those same people come out with a faith that's actually stronger — because it's not built on fear anymore.

Healing means you get to decide what stays and what goes. You get to ask the questions you were never allowed to ask. You get to figure out what you actually believe.

That's not betrayal. That's freedom.

And honestly? I think it's one of the bravest things you can do.

You Don't Have to Figure This Out Alone

If any of this hit home for you — a memory, a feeling, even just a quiet "finally someone gets it" — I'm glad you found this.

You don't have to have it all figured out before you reach out. You don't need to know what you believe or where you're headed. You don't even need the right words.

Sometimes the most important thing is just finding someone who gets it. Someone who's not going to judge you or push an agenda or make you feel like you have to choose between healing and your faith.

I've been there. I know what it's like to sit in a pew and feel like something is deeply wrong — and have no idea how to talk about it.

That's why I do this work. It just makes sense for me.

If you're curious what it'd be like to talk with someone who actually understands, I'd love to meet you. I offer a free 15-minute call — no pressure, no strings. Just a conversation to see if we're a good fit.

Schedule your free consultation here.

You've carried this long enough. Let's talk.