By Lydia Joy Launderville
“I have mental illness” is a phrase that was very, very hard for me to say out loud to another living soul. Even acknowledging and accepting it was so hard. There were a few reasons for this.
The first being that I was very traumatized as a child watching loved ones become violent during psychotic episodes. Since that was my introduction, I took those experiences with me into adulthood and they became the definition to all mental health.
I suffered silently within myself with crippling anxiety, deep depression and flashbacks stemming from my undiagnosed Chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I couldn’t even think I could have mental health issues because I was scared that would mean I was experiencing the same symptoms to the extremes I had witnessed.
The second part is that the phrase “mental illness” was accompanied by a deep-rooted shame that comes within society as a whole surrounding mental health. I was determined to never suffer where others knew, trying to protect myself from judgement. I even convinced myself that my strength to never let the past rule my present was proof that I did not have symptoms such as anxiety, depression, and flashbacks at all.
The third and most profound reason was the catalyst to all the ways shame and fear entered the conversation about mental illness — spiritual abuse.
I grew up in an environment where no Christian could ever have such symptoms or else, they weren’t Christians at all. I was raised in a church that preached that demon possession and oppression were the cause of psychotic episodes. That depression was supposed to be named melancholy and it was the result of the sin of ungratefulness. If you were focusing on the positives and not the negative — your blessings — then you would never have the time or the need to feel depressed, they said.
The reality is that I was a depressed child. I was an anxious child. I was a traumatized child.
And spiritual abuse only added to those symptoms, if not being the root cause all along. I battled and suffered such crippling fear of hell, of the devil, of losing my family, of not being good enough, of being unworthy, of being a sinner, and never adding up to what I was taught a Christian should be.
I was doing my best, but I had childhood trauma that caused Chronic and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was obsessive in my need to control something in my life because everything else was out of my control and was proving my life to be an actual living hell. At points, my trauma evolved into eating disorders, phobias, and severe fear of the outside world. I was so afraid to socialize as a child even within my own group that I was bullied by other children and adults within my church.
All of that only added to my trauma.
Even with all of these symptoms, I was fiercely kind. I tried my very best to treat others differently than I had been treated, and although I didn’t always do that, I look back and am in amazement at all that I did manage in way of kindness towards others. I had no examples, but I became my own.
I was also determined to be strong, book smart (well, with what books that weren’t banned) and allow my actions to speak louder than my words. This would eventually be fuel for me taking the step of getting professional help as an adult. But we’ll talk about that a little bit later…
The role spiritual abuse played in my trauma was the very teachings that spiritualized mental illness. I could not get the support I needed because the church taught my family that I would never need things like counseling, and if I did, the pastor would provide it. Instead, I would dive deeper into the Bible, study, and pray fervently.
I never did get the help for my mental health, but I did manage to get the words of my pastor out of my head in time to do my own research and learn more healthier things surrounding mental health.
Before I even left the cult, I was starting to ground myself, practice deep breathing, and even said “no” to leaders. Of course, I experienced a lot of painful consequences for doing what was right for me. But those steps did add up to leaps as I was stuck in an environment that suffocated me.
The first thing was standing up for those I loved with diagnosed mental health struggles. I could not handle the awful things said about them, how the church would use them as an example of sin or take their story of being on medication as healing done by God (they left that part about meds out) and not ever mentioning how they were never supported when they had to get outside, secular help. They shamed them.
I would no longer allow them to use my family members for their Sunday sermons. By doing this, it allowed me to view mental illness as a human struggle, not a sin.
I started noticing the bullying for what it was, and because I would not stay silent as others were bullied, I learned I had to do the same for myself. That is part of why I left. Granted, in hindsight, I thought I was being too sensitive but in reality, I helped myself heal by leaving.
I simply got tired of being abused. So I left the places and the people that were abusing me.
Now, we’re going to fast-forward to where I got real help. I found online support groups. I talked about my feelings, my church trauma, and the abuses I had survived. I started writing and getting published. I spoke up, became a whistleblower, and started to fight for the life I wanted and deserved. Then, after helping so many others get professional help, I did the same for myself.
I advocated for my own needs and ended up really healing the deep wounds trauma and religious abuse caused.
Now, each person will have different things that will help them on their healing journey, but for me, it started with Cognitive Behavior Therapy. That fully stabilized me, even though the clinical staff were shocked I was stable so long prior to receiving their services considering their intake forms filled with my traumas. The biggest first change was that it started regulating my dysregulated emotions and calmed my flashbacks. I was finding that I wasn’t nearly as triggered as often.
It took time, but then I decided to start EMDR therapy — a very rough and vigorous experience of reliving and retelling specific trauma experiences in detail in order to process those emotions that have been frozen in my brain and body in a safe way, because guess what? Today, I am safe! While it can be difficult, I started noticing that it was helping. I can now think of an old abuse event and not feel terrified.
I feel at peace because it was in the past and I’m in the present, truly living my best life. We’re now focusing on the aspects of religious abuse that have deeply harmed my heart, mind, and soul. We’re talking about the abusive rules. We’re talking about the shunning. We’re talking about so much. One by one, I’m processing these memories that have fought a battle in my brain for so long. And let there be no doubt about it — religious abuse does cause Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I and countless other survivors are proof of that.
I look back on this journey towards healing and every aspect that has aided in me in healing. Outside of therapy, finding support was such a game changer for me. Abusers, especially abusive religious leaders, will convince you that you are the problem and there is no one else that understands your questions. They paint it as a problem, a sin, a betrayal against your community if you suffer or dare to seek to find hope and help. They try and often convince victims that they hold the answers, know the only path to healing.
I never found healing in staying in the presence of those who harmed me. They only held control until I realized I could leave, and I, in fact, did. I took back the control and for once my life and its safety were in my own hands.
Writing and sharing my story — and there is so much to it — has also provided a degree of healing.
I encourage others to do this, which is why as an editor of this blog, I am always going to be a safe place for survivors to share their hearts. Surviving a cult or religious abuse can feel isolating and that you are all alone, adrift even. But there are so many, countless others, who do understand. You can share your voice, too.
Volunteering and advocating have also been so healing. It has helped finding a community of volunteers who understand personally how difficult this journey can be, but also how beautiful life can be.
Today, despite Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from all the abuses I experienced in an abusive religious setting, I have such a beautiful life. There is hope. You are seen. We here at Vashti are here to support you on your own journey.
Lydia Joy Kaplan was a blog editor with The Vashti Initiative. She is a survivor of abuse in all its forms, including spiritual abuse. Her efforts to raise awareness include writing, blogging, volunteering, and advocating for victims. Along with support from other survivors, Lydia collected hundreds of hundreds of crimes with direct ties to the IFB movement, contributing to the creation of two databases and numerous investigative news pieces. Her work about cultic abuse has appeared on International Cultic Studies Association, Baptist News Global, MSN, Yahoo News, along with other newspapers and magazines. Today, she currently works with social justice initiatives that help children of color read, volunteers within her community and speaks openly about her time in the IFB when able. Healing from religious abuse looks like therapy, enjoying nature, playing the piano, and spending time with her husband and two cats, one which is a rescue and her best friend. You can follow her journey by connecting on her page, From The Desk of Lydia Joy
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