What It Felt Like Surviving When the Church Gaslighted My Trauma
This post is about surviving when the church gaslighted my trauma — because not all abuse comes from fists. Some of it comes from pulpits.
They told me to forgive.
They told me to pray.
They told me to “let God handle it.”
But what they didn’t do was believe me. Protect me. Or help me heal.
When I tried to speak out about what I was going through — the abuse, the spiritual attacks, the pain eating me alive — I was met with Bible verses, fake smiles, and “God works in mysterious ways.”
No one said, “What happened to you was wrong.”
No one said, “That should have never happened.”
No one said, “Let’s help you get safe.”
When Religion Silences Instead of Saves
Instead, I got guilt-tripped into silence.
Shamed for feeling broken.
Blamed for not healing fast enough.
And told that maybe it was my sin, my lack of faith, or my refusal to forgive that kept me in pain.
Surviving when the church gaslighted my trauma meant questioning not just my story, but my soul.
I was made to feel like my suffering was proof I was unholy.
Like the demons I battled were punishment.
Like I was somehow spiritually defective — while my abusers sat in pews like nothing ever happened.
And that twisted me up in ways that took decades to untangle.
Because when your trauma gets dismissed in God’s name?
That leaves a scar that cuts to the core.
Reclaiming My Voice and My Faith
I didn’t just lose faith in people — I lost faith in God.
Because they made Him out to be just like them.
Silent. Dismissive. Condemning.
Surviving when the church gaslighted my trauma means you carry double grief:
The grief of what happened to you —
And the grief of how those claiming to love God covered it up.
But here’s what I know now:
God wasn’t in the gaslighting.
He wasn’t in the silence.
He wasn’t in the manipulation, or the shame, or the pressure to stay quiet to keep the “peace.”
That was them — not Him.
My Truth Was Never a Sin
The real God I’m starting to rediscover?
He’s in the rage.
He’s in the truth.
He’s in the fire that won’t let me shut up anymore.
He’s in me — not just in their buildings.
So yeah, I survived the church.
I survived the abuse.
And now I’m burning down the false light they used to keep me quiet.
Surviving when the church gaslighted my trauma doesn’t mean I lost my faith.
It means I reclaimed it — away from their lies.
