“Grief must be observed,” my therapist told me matter-of-factly.
“In order to heal, grief must be observed.”
She must have repeated herself because of the dumbfounded look on my face.
It was hard to process what she was saying because I had spent the last three decades of my life quite sure that it was better to do the opposite. It would be easy to blame this mentality on the three rambunctious brothers who surrounded me as a young girl(no one was going to throw me a pity party anytime I skinned a knee or got my feelings hurt), but that isn’t the entire picture. From my childhood all the way up to adulthood, I could feel the discomfort of those around me any time I shed a tear. By the time I was a young woman, it was solidified in my mind that it’s best to keep most of my pain packaged nicely. If I have to share, it’s best to make it into a short and concise prayer request. There was no way I’d be caught blubbering.
And I know I’m not the only one who has felt this way. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard, “I’m sorry,” when someone has failed to keep the container lid on their emotions. Why do we apologize for letting our humanness show? Is it because of our own discomfort or because of the discomfort of those observing us? Is it because we are afraid to be criticized for our feelings? “You’re being so sensitive,” or “It’s not that bad, you don’t have to cry”. Judgment and invalidation are common knee-jerk reactions to seeing another’s pain. The main intention might even be to comfort the hurting person, but what is mostly communicated is, “Please, stop crying!”
But others aren’t the only reason we can’t find solace.
Many times, it’s our very own selves who treat our grief with disdain. It’s our inner voice that says, “You’re weak. Be stronger. Stop caring so much. Don’t be such a baby. Move on”. We attempt to stifle the tears and drink enough water to swallow the giant lump growing in our throat, hoping that if we ignore our sadness, the pain will dissolve into insignificance. In fact, we might be the cruelest bystander of all when the hard feelings hit because no one can hide from self-condemnation.
This presents a problem because in order for healing to take place, we need a compassionate audience, not a critical one.
We need a compassionate audience from God, from ourselves, and from others.
So when my therapist told me that I needed to share my sadness with another human being, it was a bit worrisome. Especially because my grief was not easily understood by most. I have found that the effects of spiritual abuse can intimidate even the most seasoned believer.
Maybe you already know this and have gotten very hurt in the process of sharing your religious trauma. People say the darndest things when they feel their beliefs, their life choices, or even their idols are being threatened. Witnessing skepticism or distrust toward pastors, church institutions, God, and other believers can really trigger some defensive, angry, or dismissive comments.
If this is what you’ve experienced, and you have mostly given up on finding others to help you with your grief, I want to share something that has helped me. This blog post will focus on how to find a compassionate audience with others.
Last year, I watched a helpful video from G.R.A.C.E., titled Care in the Absence of Justice. It discusses the process of finding the right support while healing from spiritual abuse. Kathy Weins is a Victim/Witness Support Coordinator who works with G.R.A.C.E. to support victims of abuse in religious settings while their organization performs third-party investigations. In the video, she teaches victims how to find the right kind of support.
She begins by asking her listeners to envision one circle. She explains that this circle represents our most inner circle of support. This is our absolute, 100% reliable care for any hardship we experience. For Kathy and me, this inner circle solely belongs to God. He is the only person who is fully capable of handling any of my emotions, with compassion, at any given time. I could be on a desert island with no phone or internet signal, and He’d still be there, ready and willing to lovingly hear my cries.
Now, visually place another circle around the first one. This circle is for the people in your life who consistently care well for you. This means that you can share what you are going through and expect to find empathy, understanding, and patience. These individuals have the capacity to sit with you in your pain and remain patient and present. They are respectful of your autonomy and empower you to make your own choices, free of control and manipulation. Kindness and honesty should be some of their most prominent traits.
After that, it expands to the next circle of support. This is for those who love you, but are often unhelpful in their responses. They tend to do a lot of spiritual bypassing, which is when they use spiritual language to attempt to quickly pop you out of your grief and sadness. You often get the sense that they want to help, but it’s clear that they are far from understanding what you’re going through. The conversations involve a lot of “teaching” on your end as you try to explain what you’re experiencing or what you’ve learned.
The last circle is for individuals in your life who do not get spiritual abuse at all and make no progress in trying to understand. They are usually very uncomfortable if you bring up the topic. They may communicate their annoyance that you are “not over it yet”. It’s common to feel a lot of judgment if they misunderstand or frequently mislabel you. It’s also important to note that anyone who attends the church where you experienced the abuse would likely fall into this category. Generally, individuals cannot simultaneously support you through the thick of spiritual abuse recovery while supporting the ministry that harmed you.
What I have found most helpful about this concept is that our circles of support for our life, in general, will likely not be replicas of our spiritual abuse support framework. Meaning, just because one’s parents, spouse, or good friends are normally in one of the innermost circles, does not mean they will be a compassionate listener for the harm you have experienced in the church. Reflect on each person’s overall responses. Don’t just assume their circle placement based on a relationship title. Take time to thoughtfully choose a support network for your religious trauma that works for your relationships, not against them.
After hearing this message, I took some time to label who my support was and what level of care each person could be relied on for. Seeing that I had a handful of willing people to walk with me through this unique valley helped me tremendously! Coming to terms with each person’s abilities, life experience, and life stage was not a personal decision against them; it created a safe connection with my loved ones while also prioritizing my healing. Now, I could rest in the support network God had provided for me through Himself and with the people I love the most.
I want to add that some of the people who became part of my inner circles were not close to me at the time of our excommunication. Several of my most trusted confidants were even from out of state, a funny and unexpected twist for sure! Support can come in the form of a new friend, an old friend, a close family member, or a distant relative. If you don’t know who your people are, remain open and pray for the support you need. Trust that God can and will connect the right people to you!
One last disclaimer: no single human being on this planet will support you impeccably. No one can be 100% safe all the time. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you need to perfectly choose imperfect people to perfectly support you. That’s impossible. Pray for discernment and learn from your interactions with others, and don’t forget to give them some grace, for many of them, spiritual abuse is uncharted territory!
How about you? Have you been able to find a compassionate audience for your grief? Was the process of finding the right people easy or hard?
