Grieving God: My Journey with Religious Trauma (Part 2)

Religious trauma and early indoctrination:

Making commitments before my frontal lobe was fully developed

My mother let it be known throughout my teenage years that she couldn't wait until I was out of her house. Anytime we got into a verbal conflict, she would scowl at me and say, "I can't wait until you're eighteen." I never would have admitted it then, but there was definitely a part of me who felt completely worthless. If my own mother couldn't wait until I was not her problem anymore, who on earth would love and accept me for me? It really makes sense that I fled to the church for support when you consider what my life was like at home. I had to go through my own trauma therapy to recognize that I wasn't the problem in that relationship, and truthfully- the memory still stings. After graduating high school, I was given two options: pay my mother rent to continue living in a home where I felt emotionally abused and neglected, or get the hell out.

The summer after my senior year, I went with the youth group to attend the annual CIY ("Christ In Youth") conference, with the support of a donor from my megachurch. The first night of the conference, I remember our youth leaders saving rows of seats for the entire group and all of us swarming in to find our seats in our matching baby blue CIY tee-shirts with so much anticipation and excitement for the week to come.

A high school boyfriend and I getting ready for the conference to start, CIY, Summer 2003

The energy was high from the beginning. It was so fun to watch the screens above the auditorium stage to see if we or any of our friends would make it on the church camp jumbotron. Halfway through the week, the entire auditorium was dancing and jumping for Jesus. By the end of the conference, with the lights low and the music swelling, the speakers told us this might be the most important decision of our lives. Many of us cried, prayed, walked to the front of the auditorium, and made promises that felt eternal. For me, the commitment made was to dedicate my life and career to ministry, and spreading the "good news" of Jesus.

Westside Christian Church Youth Mission Trip 2004 Juarez. Photo taken in El Paso, TX

Looking back as an adult, I know now that I didn't understand how much emotion, group pressure, and fear was shaping my decision. I wasn't alone, either. Many of my youth group friends were planning to attend various Christian schools within the state- most within just an hour or two away from our home base due to these commitments we all made in those vulnerable moments.

My Christian College Experience

Soon after returning from the conference, I registered for Lincoln Christian College and was so excited to get my acceptance letter. I had no idea what my major would be, and because I registered at the last minute, the only classes that were available were 8am classes. I was advised that the first year would be ok to go "undecided" as far as a major because everyone takes "gen eds," or foundational classes their first year. I knew that I would struggle with getting up early to attend class but had the misperception that it would be easier since I lived on campus. I also needed to register for the max amount of credit hours (16) in order to receive the most financial aid to pay for school. And I took out the max amount of student loans... and still didn't have enough to cover the entire bill at the end of the semester. Ironically, all the credits (supposed "gen eds") were worth absolutely nothing when I eventually transferred out... and since I skipped most of my classes because I was too tired to attend due to undiagnosed ADHD and working at Walmart to support myself, I failed half of the classes anyway.

I also really struggled to connect with friends. My youth group friends who went to LCC found different pockets of friends at college. I don't fault them for that- we were never really that close anyway. There was a manufactured closeness because we were involved in the same church and attended these conferences together, but it wasn't enough to withstand the big college transition.

I connected with some new people at LCC but the friendships didn't stick. One girl had an issue with me because she felt like she was "in my shadow," I guess I shined too brightly being out on my own for the first time. There was a guy who had a crush on me which turned into an obsession and Livejournal (remember that?) posts about what a bitch I was for getting back together with my high school boyfriend. Other girls in the dorm snubbed me because it was obvious I didn't have as much money as they did. They probably wondered why I had old raggedy towels for the dorm when they all had families able to buy brand new stuff to send them off to college with. I remember coming out of the shower in my towel while juggling my shampoo, conditioner and body wash and encountering a look of disgust from one of the other girls. She asked "Why aren't you wearing any flip flops in here? You're going to get a fungus! And it's easier to carry all your stuff with a shower caddy." I responded, "I don't have money for those things." And she said, "It's like less than ten dollars where you work." I was too embarrassed to respond so I didn't. I just thought to myself, it's either a shower caddy or ez mac.

I remember staying back at the dorm by myself when everyone else went home for Christmas break. They didn't understand that the dorm was my home- and I had to work during the holidays to support myself. The dorm was so quiet, especially compared to the noise and hustle of busy shopping days while working in retail. There was an older couple on staff who lived at the dorm in the main lobby, so if I needed anything, I could knock on their door. But otherwise, it was empty. I actually remember enjoying being able to sneak to Hall A, which had the remodeled showers because no one was there to stop me and they were so much nicer than the showers in Hall D. I felt lonely, but it also didn't feel uncommon. By this point in my life, I was used to doing things on my own.

I remember feeling really disappointed that winter, not at all aware that what was happening to me was a form of religious trauma. I signed up for Christian College to spread the gospel, thinking I was so lucky to pick a career path that meant so much to me. I remember thinking I would love going to school to learn about God, and to be with good, kind Christians. I imagined making close connections that would last a lifetime, meeting my future husband, and graduating with a job offer in some sort of creative capacity.

But the reality was much different. I met some really judgmental people. I met some really self-involved people. The school promised room and board but the food was scarce. My credits weren't worth a damn thing to my future. And I left the first semester with lower self-esteem, a stalker, and a load of college debt. Needless to say, I was very disillusioned by the end of my time there.