What Would You Want in a Religious Trauma Support Group?

Plus, how can we get motivated to congregate in groups again?

Photo by Dustin Belt on Unsplash

I was approached twice this past week about helping facilitate some kind of religious trauma support group or service/event to occur in our community here. Seems like a sign, so now I’m waiting for the third thing or person to say something (because that’s how the rules of “signs” and “manifesting” work, right?? Or am I just conditioned by ideas about the Trinity?).

Now, I know I write all the time about religious trauma, and I’m a therapist and thus should just HAVE confidence for this kind of thing… but I’m a little nervous! I don’t do groups very well, or at least that’s the story I tell myself. What if no one comes? What if people come and they hate it? What if some people are too still-religious and some are too ex-religious to feel like they want to have anything to do with each other? What if I forget every helpful thing I ever thought about religious trauma and have absolutely NOTHING to contribute? And on the worries go.

But also, what if it were super great? Man! What would it have been like to have a group of people who were having a shared experience with me in terms of feeling wounded by religion and religious people? What if I had had company in those days, instead of feeling lonely and isolated — both from my friends and church acquaintances… but also from God? What if I could have had my experiences normalized and not been wandering in the darkness of doubt and fear for what felt like SO long?

As you might recall from some of my podcast interviews this past summer (see “When Drag Shows and a Gay Bar Walk Into Rural Ohio” and “Queer People Deserve to Feel Entitled to Live In Their Hometown”), this rural community in Ohio is not the easiest place to be a) queer, b) exiting the church, and c) both. A support group like this could serve such a valuable role especially in our county.

I have so much faith in you, my readers, to serve as valuable conversation partners for me. I’ve got two ideas I want to brainstorm / problem-solve with you.

The first is less specific about religious trauma and more about how we gather, especially in the post-Covid era. I feel it in myself: I crave community and enjoy the feeling I get when I can connect with other similar-minded souls. BUT the act of doing that feels costly: planning the time and event I’ll go to, expending the energy to get out of my house, deciding about bringing the kids or arranging childcare, and facing my low-grade but ever-present social anxiety.

It’s a barrier that feels much more challenging after having experienced the shutdowns of Covid, when we learned to cocoon in our homes and unconsciously see others as potentially dangerous. I think it’s important we acknowledge that the health and safety shutdowns also cost us a lot in terms of social cohesion and willingness to congregate together. But humans are social animals — which means that I assume we’ll eventually find our way back to each other, but also, until we do, a part of us will be missing and probably suffering for it.

So question one: What would motivate you to leave the comfort of the familiar and join a group setting that might be great, but also, is new and scary? Would you be more likely to do this virtually or in-person? (I understand some people’s health issues dictate this more than for others). Do you feel like there is a distinct benefit from meeting in person vs virtually, if both were available to you?

Now for topic two. Thinking about the spectrum of your deconstruction and / or religious trauma journey, what would be most helpful to talk about in a group setting? What kind of support did or do you need from others who are going through something similar?

Here are a few of my ideas that you can use as conversational starting points with me, or come up with something new altogether!

• Establishing group norms where we make clear that there will be no belief that everyone must hold or practice everyone must subscribe to — making space for anyone across the religious / not religious spectrum. (basically, trying to be anti-fundamentalist and allow for freedom of intellect and emotion!)

• Autobiography-based sharing where anyone who feels comfortable has a chance, or a group meeting, to share their story of faith deconstruction / deconversion / wanderings / religious trauma background / etc

• Topic-based sessions where we cover different religious-trauma related topics, like impacts on: emotions [shame, guilt, fear], intellect [e.g. feeling like you have to believe what the leaders say is “right”], sexuality [especially in a queer-based support group, but also for anyone!], and whatever else is relevant!

One last question (I know, I said only two!). If there was a church-ish service specifically geared toward being religious trauma sensitive, would you go? Some people have no interest in ever doing anything churchy again, but others crave what church gave us but without all the baggage. And if you would go, what would you want the service to contain? Interfaith readings from world religions? Candles and periods of meditation? Singing or Taize-style chanting? Or casual conversation about spirituality over coffee?

It’s exciting, and also a little scary, to dream about what could manifest right here in my real life. I’m a chronic under-estimator of myself and the value that people feel I bring to relationships. But maybe, maybe, it doesn’t have to be that way! Maybe we can make something really cool happen, right here.

You know the drill… can’t wait to chat in the comments! The dialogue and internet companionship that you all provide me and each other is pretty stinking amazing, and I’m so glad you’re here!