When I was going through my dark night of the soul after spiritual abuse, just thinking about spirituality didn’t feel safe to me. The idea of contemplating spirituality, blogging about it, talking about it, being public with it in the ways I had been prior to the abuse (now over a dozen years ago), filled me with a dread and evoked panic attacks. I couldn’t do that. What if my abusers, who were at the time part of a major nation-wide pagan organization, saw me? What if the leaders of that organization (who still lead it) saw me? The worry and the fear were real. Some days they still are. There’s also one thing that worked to soothe those wounds and help me cultivate a sense of safety that I very much crave–my spirituality.
On one hand, at this point, I can put on my religious studies scholar hat and discuss the psychology of it, how trauma rewires the brain, what the diagnostic criteria for PTSD is, debate why cPTSD (complex or chronic PTSD) still isn’t recognized by the DSM (Diagnostic Statistical Manual) here in the US — but that’s not why I’m here. Learning about religion is a special interest of mine, but when you’ve been hurt by religion–and let’s be honest here, spirituality in general rarely hurts anyone, people hurt people and people are religion–thinking about it, talking about it, can be one of the most difficult things to do. You might not want to do it, and I understand. I’ve been there.
And yet in those moments, many of us, myself included, crave spirituality, the connection with something larger than ourselves. Given that one of my personal deities is Epona, the goddess of horses, and I consider tending for my herd to be a sacred duty, it felt okay to talk to her. The abuse I’d suffered couldn’t take that connection away. After all, I still had horses and they are still a big part of my spirituality and my mental health. I started talking to Epona again.
That simple act in the privacy of my own property began the restoration process. And the process is still ongoing. I’ve talked a lot about why I don’t like the term healing–that implies a one and done situation, when this is more gradual and more learning to work with the new structures created–but connecting with my spirituality, remembering what I enjoyed about it, what brought me peace, and even learning new things–all of this helped me to reclaim my spirituality.
Reclaiming is where the powerful work happens. Remembering that it is safe to be spiritual, that those people don’t have any control over me anymore, and frankly, I don’t find their opinions worth my time. Those who choose to maintain and support harmful structures have no place in my spirituality.
This is where safety comes from. Knowing my truth, living my truth, and being authentic. Safety comes from claiming spirituality on my own terms, repairing and reclaiming my relationship with and to it, and moving forward from that restored point. And when you feel safe, you can begin to discover so much more.