Holy Shift

I never expected to completely lose my faith. It sort of just happened over time. An unanswered prayer, a question that was too big for anyone to answer, a hurting heart that just didn't seem like it would heal…

If this sounds like you, welcome to the club. The holy shift club. It's a strange place to land, but you aren't alone. There are a lot of us, even if we don't talk about it. We might make t-shirts one day.

My story starts when I was about seven. I was raised in a Southern-Baptist church. The kind where you had pot-lucks after every service, went to church Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night (even if it was just a business meeting). My father was determined to raise godly children in an ungodly world (his words, the church philosophy) after divorcing my mother and moving us to a small, country town. All there was to do was go to church. I don't remember a time where we were even allowed to miss, not even being sick. If the doors were open, we were there.

Throughout my entire childhood and adult life, themes of Christian Nationlism weaved its way through everything we did. I even remember coming home after the attacks of September 11th to our TV replaying the scenes and overhearing the adults talking about the “end-times", the “rapture", and how this was the beginning of the end. This was always preached; Y2K, the war in Iraq, the recession of 2008, and every other major world event that happened. It was always discused in the same way…the end times, rapture, and we better have our life together and not be caught doing anything we shouldn't be doing when Jesus came back.

Needless to say, but I'm going to say it anyway…I was a super anxious kid.

The rapture and end-times theology, hell and the idea of being left behind, and purity culture pretty much made me a shell of a woman. I questioned my worth, questioned every feeling I ever had that wasn't about god, and didn't trust my body or my intuition. I prayed to be “saved" almost daily, terrified that something bad would happen to me or my family, my siblings, or my friends and I always questioned every decision I ever made. Was I making the right choice? Was I good enough to go to heaven? What if I went to hell to be tortured for all eternity? What if my mom did? What if my dad did?

These fears became very real into my teenage years and young adulthood, when I questioned leaving a very unsafe and unhealthy marriage because I was raised to believe that god hated divorce. (My parents were both divorced twice, married three times but that's another story for another day…) I stayed in an unsafe situation for my kids and myself because a church pastor told me that I needed to save my marriage and god would make him stop drinking. I also couldn't join the church as a member if I didn't go back… So I did what any “good christian woman" would do and I stayed. And then I stayed too long. When I finally got the courage to leave him after a particularly scary drunken tyrade, I believed that god would never forgive me., that I was tearing apart my family, and that my children would be ruined without their parents together. So out of rebelion to my belief system, I started to ask the hard quetsions to church members. My parents. And even to god himself (Spoiler alert…I longer believe in this ideology.) I researched, I read, and I cried. A lot. I finally sought therapy and eventually, my whole worldview began to crack and shift. I took the religious glasses off.

It sucked.

I lost so many friends because they viewed me as lost. My parents thought I started practicing witchcraft, of all things. (And absolutely no hate here…I love my craft friends.) I was alone, like really, really alone. For the first time, I couldn't talk to anyone about the problems I was facing, how my world just felt comnpletely shattered. I was angry. I didn't know who I was without religion, and I had no idea where to start to redefine myself. My anger was almost righteous. I felt betrayed, brainwashed, and bewildered. Finally, I found a therapist who specialized in religious trauma and a group that focused on deconstruction.

Slowly, I began to recreate myself. It was almost like an unraveling, slowly tugging at the strings that weren't useful to me anymore. As I processed and researched, I became more free. My depression began to lift, my anxiety was finally treated from a health perspective, not a religious one, and I began to learn what it truly meant to practice self love. It wasn't easy; I had a lot of battles to fight and even more life trauma to come. Was it worth it? Yes. I finally discovered and realized that I was worth it all along.

My story isn't unique. This is the reality for so many people who are raised inside a high-control religious environment. These religions teach you to not trust your own intuition or instincts, that emotions are a lack of faith, and that your natural human nature is disgusting and evil. These enviornments create a perfect storm of anxiety, depression, isolationism, and self-loathing. When a belief system is taught to be adheared to or face reprecussions of death and damnation, a worldview becomes extrememly distorted. Every value and moral becomes entangled with toxic theology and opens the door to a flood of mental health issues that sometimes become chronic. The gaslighting that plays a common role in high-control religion can keep an individual from seeking out mental health help, practicing boundaries, and speaking up about possible abuse they have endured. The results of a belief system such as this are damaging and harmful.

Leaving a high-control religion can bring about some pretty intense emotions and make an individual question every aspect of their life. A literal existential crisis can occur, bringing about a multitude of emotions that are often associated with trauma including grief, anger, shame, and resentment.

Leaving a high-control religion is difficult. Processing the trauma of a high-control religion can be even more so.

You are in good company, here.

I wandered the wilderness for quite some time, peeling back each individual belief that I held and reframed it in a way that has brought value to my life in ways that I hold dear, not because of what a religion or belief system tells me that I have to believe. Hope lives and life does exist outside of toxic church culture. There are many of us here who have broken free of opressive systems and discovered such a beautiful world beyond it, one that we shape because we want to. Because we healed, and we learned to love ourselves just as we are.

It’s quite the holy shift.

Redefine Success

Confidence doesn’t always arrive with a bold entrance. Sometimes, it builds quietly, step by step, as we show up for ourselves day after day. It grows when we choose to try, even when we’re unsure of the outcome. Every time you take action despite self-doubt, you reinforce the belief that you’re capable. Confidence isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting that you can figure it out along the way.

The key to making things happen isn’t waiting for the perfect moment; it’s starting with what you have, where you are. Big goals can feel overwhelming when viewed all at once, but momentum builds through small, consistent action. Whether you’re working toward a personal milestone or a professional dream, progress comes from showing up — not perfectly, but persistently. Action creates clarity, and over time, those steps forward add up to something real.

You don’t need to be fearless to reach your goals, you just need to be willing. Willing to try, willing to learn, and willing to believe that you’re capable of more than you know. The road may not always be smooth, but growth rarely is. What matters most is that you keep going, keep learning, and keep believing in the version of yourself you’re becoming.