Let’s Talk About Religious Trauma
- Nicole Ardin
- Sep 7
- 4 min read
A sacred conversation for those still carrying shame in the name of a God
I know, I know - we are back on the topic of Christianity, and that is not what you are here for. I get it. But please, bear with me, because there is simply still a lot to unpack. Religious trauma is real. And while it can show up in many traditions, we cannot deny that the Christian institution — especially in its more dogmatic, institutionalized forms — has caused and continues to cause significant harm.
To this day, I do not understand why an all-powerful, all-knowing (benevolent) God would choose punishment and hate as the main strategy to “educate” his children. If you take the Bible literally, God comes across as moody, jealous, and oddly immature for someone supposedly in charge of the entire universe. And yet, millions have been told to revere this figure unquestioningly as the ultimate good guy — or face eternal consequences.

The Weaponization of Fear
The system works like this:
You are born sinful.
You must constantly repent and “do good” to earn love.
Heaven is a reward dangled in front of you, while hell is used as a whip behind your back.
That’s not spirituality. That’s a fear-based control system. And fear does not nurture love, authenticity, or growth — it breeds shame, guilt, and disconnection from one’s true self.
On paper, this idea of original sin applies to everyone. But in practice, women and anyone embodying the feminine often carry the heavier load. From the very beginning, Eve is framed as the one who brought sin into the world. That one story alone set the stage for centuries of doctrine that treats women’s bodies, desires, and voices as more sinful, more dangerous, more in need of control.
So while men are also told they are sinners, women are often held responsible not just for their own “sin,” but also for supposedly causing men to stumble. Think purity culture. Think modesty rules. Think the endless pressure to police your own body, your sexuality, your very presence — because it might “tempt” someone else.
That’s not just a theological belief. That’s a system of shame, embedded in culture, used to restrict agency and power.
Demonizing the Feminine
One of the most consistent threads in Christian history is the demonization of women and the feminine. From Eve being blamed for humanity’s downfall, to centuries of witch hunts, to modern-day purity culture — the message has been clear: the feminine is dangerous, tempting, sinful, and in need of control.
For women, queer folks, and anyone who embodies fluidity, softness, or sensuality, this messaging leaves scars. It tells people that their bodies are wrong, their desires are sinful, and their power must be subdued. This isn’t just theology — it’s psychological conditioning.
Symbols of Suffering
And then there’s the cross. A symbol of torture, suffering, and execution has been elevated as the ultimate spiritual emblem. Think about that for a moment. Instead of celebrating joy, creation, or love, Christianity chose to build its entire iconography around death and pain. What does it do to a psyche to worship suffering as sacred? It normalizes the idea that pain is holy and that to be “good” often means to endure, submit, and sacrifice yourself.
The Psychological Wounds of Religious Trauma
Religious trauma isn’t just about “not liking church.” It can leave long-lasting effects, such as:
Chronic guilt and shame — feeling like you are never enough.
Fear of rejection or punishment — both divine and human.
Difficulty trusting yourself — because you were taught to distrust your own thoughts, feelings, and intuition.
Strained relationships — especially if family members remain deeply enmeshed in the faith.
Spiritual confusion — a deep hunger for meaning, but fear of seeking it outside the framework you were raised in.
For some, these wounds can even manifest in symptoms resembling PTSD: nightmares, hypervigilance, panic, and deep distrust of authority figures.
A Sacred Conversation
If you recognize yourself in any of this, please know: you are not alone. What you experienced was real. It wasn’t just “you being too sensitive.” It was a system designed to control and shame. Naming that is an act of liberation.
And here’s the paradox: many who leave Christianity still carry its imprints. We carry the shame, the guilt, the hesitation to claim joy or pleasure — even when we no longer believe in the theology itself. That’s how deeply religious trauma can root itself.
But healing is possible. It begins by reclaiming your voice, your body, and your right to define spirituality on your own terms. It might look like therapy, like journaling, like joining exvangelical communities, or simply allowing yourself to rage, grieve, and eventually soften.
Reclaiming the Sacred
Religion and spirituality are not the same. You can leave harmful institutions and still honor your longing for the sacred. You can build rituals that nourish you, find communities that celebrate your wholeness, and explore philosophies that empower rather than diminish you.
The truth is: no God worthy of worship would demand your self-erasure. No loving spirit would want you to feel ashamed of being human. So, if you are still carrying shame in the name of God — let this be your permission slip to set it down. Healing is not betrayal. Reclaiming your wholeness is not sin. It’s sacred work.
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