The tangled web of traumatic Invalidation in religious spaces

I’ve been exploring how traumatic experiences that strike at the core of a persons identity, safety and belonging are linked with harmful religious experiences. (Yes, that is the sort of thing that a Religious Trauma therapist does on an average Wednesday). For me, the concept of “Traumatic Invalidation” help join the dots. There is a common idea that traumatic events can be clealy categorised according to standardised tests such as the The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), which is used to diagnose mental disorders. The trouble with this view is that many inherently traumatic experiences don’t meet the threshold for these diagnoses, but people still suffer with the fallout of their experiences. I want to do what I can to relieve this suffering, and I think that better understanding of the nature of Religious Trauma is one way to do this.

Dr Melanie Harned is a specialist in treating PTSD. She notes that experiences such as discrimination, intense criticism, being treated as if they aren’t lovable, that their feelings or distress don’t matter, being treated as inferior based on gender or sexual orientation, or or excluded from activities that are really important to someone are traumatic. These experiences are called Traumatic Invalidation in therapeutic language. In my experience working with survivors of religious trauma, these are very common occurences. They exist more like a complex cluster of interwoven, tangled threads rather than a clear, contained event such as being in a serious car accident. Which is why Religious Trauma is a form of Complex trauma, arising from multiple, ongoing and long term traumatic experiences that are interpersonal. (When they say that “Church is Family”, this helps explain why abuse that occurs in churches cuts so deeply and feels so confusing).

People learn from overt and covert messages, actions and inactions by people at church that:

they are bad (born as a sinner)

they don’t matter (only what you do for God/ eternity matters)

they are not lovable (contingent acceptance based on following The Rules)

they are not competant and can’t trust their own judgement

they are not as valuable as others (gender hierarchy that favours cis males)

When you hear from people who are authority figures you trust and look up to, who you rely on for community, belonging, and guidance in your faith and spiritual identity that there is something wrong with you, you will most likely believe it. And those are traumatic things to believe. This kind of invalidation becomes traumatic when it is repeated, (say every time you attend a church gathering). When the traumatic beliefs are paired with your ability to connect with the Sacred, or linked with your eternal future, that adds another whole mess of tangled traumatic beliefs to unravel.

When survivors try to talk about the trauma and abuse they have experienced in their churches, they often experience more trauma. Their experiences are frequently disbelieved, minimised, rejected, judged, shamed or they are Scape Goated (blamed). All of which adds to the kind of confusion, undermining and extreme distress that survivors have shared with me.

The degree of wrongness in all of this violates deeply held values for me. Values such as respect for human dignity, about compassion, about people deserving to find safety and support when they’re living through the worst experience of their life. I feel rage, dismay and a deep desire to do what I can to support survivors of religious abuse to feel safe, seen and process their trauma so they can live a more free and satisfying life that is less impacted by the harm of what happened to them. It’s what motivates me to spend hours researching and unpicking the tangled threads of trauma. It’s not something most people are drawn to, but I find it surprisingly uplifting, hopeful work.

To listen and bear witness. Until a person feels the inner shift of being seen, heard, believed and validated. Watching the healing impact as a person finally hears:

“I believe you. Your stories, experiences and wounds are real. They matter.

Your responses are valid and they make sense. You matter, and you are not alone.

Now, what are we going to do about it?

Let’s talk. ”