What do you think of when you hear the word “grief?” Does it strike you as foreign? Overwhelming? Familiar?
In recent years, I have had to face grief in more ways than I ever thought I would. Surviving spiritual abuse has forced me to completely reconstruct my definition and view of grief. I used to think of it as something that only applies to the death of a loved one, but now I see how it applies to a broad spectrum of circumstances that all center around loss. It creeps into many, if not all parts of the life of a spiritual abuse survivor. A survivor’s grief journey can begin as the traumatic event is occurring as a form of anticipatory grief, having a sinking feeling that the happy ending is not coming. It can also begin after the abuse is over and the survivor has left the institution, now having to face a new reality.
The Kübler-Ross model of the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance) provides a solid framework, but it is often mistaken to be a linear process. We do not move through the stages consecutively like they are milestones to achieve. However, this model can help us to name what we may be feeling.
As a way to fully define grief, we can look to the dictionary definition, as well as how psychology and the Bible speak of it.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines grief as “deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement” or “a cause of such suffering.” Its etymology points back to Old French, grever, meaning “to burden.” It also has roots in the Latin term, gravis, meaning “heavy” and “oppressive.”
In further detail, the American Psychological Association’s dictionary states grief is “the anguish experienced after significant loss, usually the death of a beloved person… Grief often includes physiological distress, separation anxiety, confusion, yearning, obsessive dwelling on the past, and apprehension about the future.”
While Scripture does not lay out a crystal-clear definition of grief, we see the term and its synonyms used many times through its pages. Notably, in Isaiah 53:3: “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not” (ESV). The word “grief” in this passage comes from the Hebrew word, “holi.” Its etymology points back to the definition: “to be rubbed or worn; hence (figuratively) to be weak, sick, afflicted; or (causatively) to grieve, make sick” (Strong’s Dictionary).
Grief after spiritual abuse can affect how we remember the past, experience the present, and think about the future. The following examples are based on my own grief journey. My goal in sharing these is not only to help fellow survivors feel seen, but to also offer those who are currently supporting survivors an inside look into the mind of someone who has walked a similar road. These experiences may be common, but they are not universal. Everyone grieves differently, especially post-abuse, which itself can come in many forms.
Past
Good memories can become tainted and forgotten. Instead of remembering all the good things that happened outside of the abuse, those memories can get pushed to the back of our minds because the trauma has stained our experiences as a whole. A common trauma response is forgetting bits and pieces, if not all, of what happened during the time period of the abuse. This is the opposite of having rose-colored glasses, because those are often quickly stolen from us as the abuse begins. Adjusting to this harsh reality can affect how we trust people (and sometimes, God) going forward.
However, these memories may not be gone forever. They can often come back slowly as we heal. A part of this memory recovery process could be through different therapeutic methods, such as eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) or cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). Recommended methods will vary from person to person.
Our trauma can haunt us, both physically and psychologically. Many survivors may make an effort to physically avoid triggers as we recover due to still living near the institutions that harmed us. We may go to a different city to run errands, go to the gym, or eat at a restaurant. If we see people from the institution in public, whether or not they were involved in the abuse, that can become a trigger. We may also avoid triggers by not reading the Bible, listening to certain music, or following certain people on social media. Whether healthy or not, we may end communication with people who are still associated with the institution/situation of abuse.
While some forms of avoidance after abuse are actually healthy boundaries to mitigate the pain of loss, other actions may be a sign of a deeper issue. Avoidance is a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). If the abuse involved one or multiple situations that risked life or limb, a survivor may be diagnosed with this disorder if the other qualifying symptoms are present as well. However, if the abuse was not physical but instead emotional/psychological, a survivor may develop complex PTSD. While not yet in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), complex PTSD includes the symptoms listed as characteristic of PTSD, along with some additional criteria that encompass trauma that was chronic in nature and may not have been life-threatening. It is worth noting, someone diagnosed with traditional PTSD may also qualify for an unofficial complex PTSD diagnosis.
We may grieve who we were before the trauma. I miss the innocence I had before the trauma. I miss the days I was untouched by mental illness, and did not know what it was like to battle with anxiety, depression, or complex PTSD. I miss not needing to take my antidepressant every morning. I miss the fire I had in me to constantly be writing music. Now, it is hard to write without weeping. It feels like touching a live wire when I try to open up my soul to write.
While few survivors would say we wish we were still in the toxic relationships/systems we left, we may miss what it was like when things were good (if our memories have not been tainted and forgotten as mentioned above, or if those memories have been restored). This bleeds into grieving the state of things in the present.
Present
One of the most devastating elements of surviving spiritual abuse is grieving the loss of community and a sense of belonging. A cult-like mindset is common in spiritually abusive institutions, which does not allow for remaining members to continue relationships with those who have left. Most times, that rule is unspoken, but some cult leaders have the audacity to explicitly order their people to shun former members.
Losing our community feels like being forced into a foreign, cold world that lacks the color our old world displayed. For many survivors, we may lose nearly our entire once-trusted “support system” when we leave an abusive situation. The people we thought would be in our corner come hell or high water end up betraying us due to their own insecurities and/or lack of discernment. Some trusted individuals may turn out to be abuse apologists, while others are simply too cowardly and comfortable to stand up for what is right. This betrayal trauma often hurts survivors just as much, if not more, than the abuse itself. This can cause survivors to develop immense trust issues with authority figures and peers alike. We are forced to grieve what feels like everything we have known in recent years or in our entire lifetime, depending on how long we were a part of the institution.
We may have a crisis of faith and grieve the “lost” time believing false theology. Some members of the church may clutch their metaphorical pearls when they hear a fellow believer mention “deconstruction.” What needs to be recognized among the Church, especially in the United States, is that “deconstruction” is not a dirty word. It is a necessary process in order to draw ourselves closer to the Creator. It is a part of sanctification in making sure the teachings we believe truly reflect the God of the Bible, and not the false gods of our corrupt culture and authority figures alike. Spiritual abuse survivors are faced with extreme circumstances that force us to deconstruct our faith in order to keep surviving. We have to de-program ourselves from the toxic teachings that allowed for our abuse to occur and kept us away from understanding the love of the One True God. Personally, grieving those lost years and separating myself from how I used to view God was not easy, but brought freedom in the end due to reconstruction.
One large caveat of deconstruction is that it is unhealthy without reconstruction. Lies must be replaced with Truth. Despair must be met with hope. It is unloving to ourselves to turn our souls over to the world, abandon our faith completely, and not rediscover the firm foundation that is Christ and His teachings. The only way I have kept my faith is by being reminded of the true nature of the One who saved me.
A common grief experience is “the year of firsts.” For those who have lost a loved one, the first year of birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries can be incredibly difficult to navigate. These special days are rude reminders of who has been lost in a more severe way than the day-to-day grief. For spiritual abuse survivors, Christmas and Easter can be especially hard, along with any other special annual events/celebrations that became a part of our lives while being a member of that institution (e.g., retreats/conferences, camps, vacation Bible school, church anniversaries). My year of firsts felt like it extended into the second year. The second Christmas and Easter did not feel easier. This past Easter is the first major holiday that did not sting after leaving in November 2021.
Future
Spiritual abuse survival often changes the trajectory of survivors’ lives. Dreams and goals of survivors can change as a result, and that can be a hard reality to face. This is especially true for those who used to work (either paid or volunteer) at the abusive institution and felt called to continue in ministry. Survivors may feel like time has been lost pursuing a calling that was brought to an abrupt end. What may feel like an “ending,” though, can actually be a brief halt and redirection. Our abuse does not surprise God, and He will not let anything we experience go to waste.
I thought I was going to stay at my last church forever. I had been pursuing my calling of worship leading for over thirteen years. The mentorship I received during my employment led me to believe I was going to keep moving up from my youth worship leader position, and I would eventually achieve my dream of becoming a worship director. While I tried to continue in the same career path after I left, God shut every door I tried. He has opened other doors since, but not the ones I expected to walk through. However, He has helped me to understand how my calling has slightly changed, but in a positive way that will bring Him glory and will use my pain for His good.
Survivors may also grieve lost time after the abuse that could have been spent living a relatively undisturbed, happier and healthier life. We may feel like our lives are on hold post-abuse, having to pick up the pieces of a mess we did not create. Trauma is stubborn and does not like to be ignored, so it will not leave us until it is addressed. Putting on a mask and saying everything is fine can result in the effects of trauma coming out “sideways,” which can hurt survivors’ support people that are trying to help. Unresolved trauma can make people become mean, bitter, and resentful. Medical researchers are also coming to understand how it can affect our physical health. While the work to resolve trauma and heal from it is worthwhile, it takes a lot of time and energy that is not expected nor desired to expend by a survivor.
Now the question stands: How do we cope?
For survivors and supporters, this is what we must remember :
- We cannot be afraid of grief. We must face it in order to work through it. It is a large, daunting mountain to climb that will not go away on its own.
- There is no quick fix. Nobody on earth will have the perfect words to take our pain away. No substance, earthly relationship, or amount of money can either – they can only numb.
- We will not feel the same way forever. Nothing in this world lasts forever. If we are making an active effort to heal, no matter how small, it will make a difference. Some days all we can do is be 1% better, but in the future, those small steps will lead to significant improvement.
- Most importantly, we cannot bear grief alone. Galatians 6:2 says, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (ESV). It is helpful to have at least two people we can go to as supporters. This keeps the responsibility of care off the shoulders of a solitary friend or family member, which can become overwhelming to that person and can harm the relationship. As mentioned earlier, I recognize that loss of community often accompanies leaving situations of abuse, so I encourage relationships with people who are outside of that community and/or showed consistent support during the abuse. Ideally, the second member of a survivor’s support system would be a trauma-informed counselor/mental health professional.
Over anyone else, we must run to Jesus in order to be made whole. We do not have to seem to have it all together in order to run to Him. We do not even need to have the right words to pray – the Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf (Romans 8:26-27). Simply offering our shattered hearts to Him is enough. We cannot afford to forget that our abuse breaks the heart of Jesus more than anyone else. His name is a weapon He knows will be used for evil, but He will still win in the end. We are His sheep, and He will run after every last one of us to ensure we are safe in His care. He will banish the wolves that try to infiltrate the flock with sheep’s clothing. He will carry us when we are injured until we are healed enough to walk on our own again, and He will never be out of reach.