We know this is a difficult time for LGBTQ people in America especially, but certainly around the world. Many of us are carrying emotions like grief, fear, fatigue, and a longing for spaces that feel safe and whole. That’s why, on our recent podcast episode of Whiplash with Maxwell Kuzma, we wanted to talk about mental health. And in doing so, we found ourselves diving into a topic that’s heavy, yes—but also deeply necessary: religious trauma.
For those who have the space to engage, this conversation is an invitation to understand what religious trauma is, how it shows up, and what healing can look like—especially for LGBTQ+ Catholics and others shaped by high-control, often fundamentalist religious environments.
We're joined on the podcast by Teresa Thompson, a New York-based psychotherapist specializing in religious trauma and a Bernardin Scholar in the pastoral studies program at Catholic Theological Union (where Pope Leo XIV went to school!). Teresa also writes on faith and social justice on her Substack, Liturgy of the Ours. With clarity and compassion, she helps us explore how theology can be reclaimed and reimagined for our collective healing.
As we did on the podcast episode preceding this essay, we will be discussing sensitive topics, including religious trauma, conversion therapy, purity culture, spiritual abuse, and more. Please take care of yourself and take a beat before proceeding—are you in a good headspace to explore these topics? If not, feel free to stop and take a break and check out the list of resources at the end of this piece.
What Is Religious Trauma?
Religious trauma isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience. It’s a broad and evolving term that describes the emotional, psychological, physical, spiritual, and even sexual harm that can occur in religious settings. As Teresa explains on the podcast, these settings can include churches, schools, religious organizations, or even family and peer groups where religion plays a central role. What makes the harm “religious” is not just the setting, but how spiritual authority is used to control, shame, or silence.
For LGBTQ+ people raised in religious traditions—especially Catholicism—religious trauma often becomes part of the terrain. As Max shares, being transgender in a Catholic context can mean navigating years of teachings that undermine your identity. Emma reflects on how purity culture, with its rigid ideas of gender and sexuality, distorted her relationship with her body and her sense of self. These stories are painfully common, and they're not just about past hurts. They shape how people move through the world, experience intimacy, and relate to their own spirituality.
Religious trauma can also be difficult to name. Many people feel guilt or shame long before they realize the source of those feelings. Others struggle to claim the term “trauma” because the harm was spiritual or emotional, not always physical. But as Teresa points out, these are often high-control environments—spaces that don’t allow for difference, growth, or questioning. That lack of freedom is part of the trauma. Healing begins when we start to tell the truth about what happened, when we recognize that the damage is real, and when we begin to imagine new ways of being—ways rooted in compassion, liberation, and love.
The Body, Power, and Colonial Roots of Religious Trauma
To really understand religious trauma—especially for LGBTQ Catholics—we have to talk about power. As Teresa points out in our conversation, Catholic theology doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It's shaped by centuries of cultural, philosophical, and political ideas, including Enlightenment-era thinking that split the mind, body, and spirit into separate parts. This concept, known as Cartesian dualism, elevated the mind and soul as morally superior, while the body was cast as dangerous, sinful, or weak. That framing influenced how the church talks about sex, gender, and morality.
When the body is seen as something to be controlled, so is sexuality. Catholic teachings on sex and sexuality often reflect this legacy, reducing sexuality to something acceptable only within heterosexual marriage and solely for procreation. But this narrow framework doesn’t just come from theology—it’s also connected to purity culture, colonialism, and social control. Emma shares how purity culture taught her to internalize shame and fear about her body, and Teresa expands on how religious systems often rely on self-policing—especially among women and queer people—to maintain control. These messages shape not just how people behave, but how they see themselves and their worth.
When bodies are devalued, they become expendable—especially in systems built on colonial violence. Teresa draws a powerful connection between this dualism and the moral justification for colonization. If the soul matters more than the body, then domination, erasure, and even death can be reframed as "salvation." That twisted logic has historically enabled the church to support colonial expansion under the guise of evangelization—and it continues to show up today in policies that devalue lives in the name of religious morality, from conversion therapy to restrictions on reproductive care.
This is why decolonizing theology matters. It’s not about discarding the faith, but about reclaiming it—making it truly Catholic, in the original sense of the word: universal, expansive, inclusive of all. A decolonized theology doesn’t ask us to erase differences or conform to a single ideal. Instead, it makes space for many voices, many bodies, and many ways of being. For LGBTQ Catholics and others harmed by rigid or exclusionary theology, that shift can be life-changing. It opens up the possibility of a church—and a spirituality—that honors the whole person.
Moving Past Either/Or: Embracing Complexity and Grace
In many social and cultural systems shaped by colonial and hegemonic power, people often find themselves caught in a limiting binary: on one side, subjugation and oppression; on the other, a narrow idea of independence that can lead to isolation or even new forms of control. For example, the common understanding of independence might mean simply doing everything alone or adopting the behaviors of the dominant group, which isn’t always healthy or sustainable.
Instead of moving from one extreme to the other, Teresa shares with us that a healthier path is to embrace interdependence—the idea that we thrive through mutual support, community, and shared responsibility. This shift moves beyond the “either/or” mindset that can trap many of us, especially those navigating complex identities like queer Catholics, who often face pressure to choose between conflicting communities or values.
Learning to break free from rigid absolutes is also essential. Life and belief are rarely black-and-white, and allowing space for growth, grace, and self-compassion can help us navigate this complexity.
Healing from trauma, for instance, requires developing skills like emotional regulation—learning how to recognize when we are overwhelmed and taking a step back to calm ourselves. This “zooming out” practice helps create distance from immediate reactions so we can respond with more clarity and care. This kind of healing and growth isn’t linear or quick; it’s a process of continual learning and adaptation, with room to celebrate small steps forward. Embracing this nuanced, compassionate approach opens up possibilities for more authentic and connected ways of living and relating to both ourselves and others.
Owning Your Story
When we think about growing and healing—especially after trauma or when dealing with questions about who we are and what we believe—the story we tell ourselves about our lives matters a lot. In the episode, we touch on how healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. Instead, it’s about taking back control of our story: being able to look at our past without feeling overwhelmed, thinking about what it means now, and deciding how it fits with who we are today. This helps turn a confusing, painful past into something we can understand and shape over time.
We also talk about how faith and identity can feel like they come with strict, impossible rules—especially for queer Catholics. Max describes the “pressure cooker” of trying to live up to fundamentalist theology and all its demands. But the truth is, there is no one perfect way to be faithful or to live your truth. Being a person of faith is more like a journey you keep practicing (as Teresa emphasizes) and growing in. It’s less about saying “I am Catholic” as a fixed label, and more about saying “I am practicing Catholic,” with all the ups and downs that come with it.
These ideas invite us to be kinder and more patient with ourselves and our faith. They remind us that it’s okay to start where we are, even if things feel messy or uncertain. Healing and growth don’t happen all at once, but bit by bit, with time and grace. This way of thinking helps us build strength, self-love, and a deeper, more honest connection to both ourselves and the communities we belong to.
In short, healing and faith are ongoing journeys shaped by the stories we tell ourselves and the space we give for growth and self-compassion. There’s no perfect path—just the practice of showing up where we are and moving forward at our own pace.
If you want to listen to the full podcast episode that inspired this post, click here.
To help with this process of growth and healing, we’ll now share some grounding techniques and helpful resources to support you on your journey.
Grounding Exercises
Teresa provided us with some wonderful grounding exercises to help manage upsetting feelings, memories, intrusive thoughts, and flashbacks.
We (Max and Emma) are not therapists, and this is not medical advice but is rather an invitation for all people listening to take care of themselves and their mental and physical health.
Here are some exercises we learned from Teresa and others that may be helpful:
5-4-3-2-1 sensory method - this method focuses on highlighting your senses and listing what you see, hear, touch, smell, and can taste around you. Follow this pattern by listing out loud:
5 things you hear
4 things you see
3 things you can touch from where you are
2 things you can smell
1 thing you can taste
Box breathing - you can draw a box on a piece of paper or use a physical box but you will alternate as you trace the sides with your finger between holding your breath for four seconds, then releasing your breath for four seconds and then repeating.
Putting your hands in water - focus on the water temperature and how it feels on each part of your hand (fingertips, palms, back of your hands). You can also alternate between cold and warm (not hot) water every 30 seconds to create sensory disruption.
Eating sour or spicy candy - the sudden shock of the candy flavor may help disrupt a panic attack!
Hold a piece of ice - just like sour candy, the coldness of the ice can help disrupt a panic attack. You can hold a piece of ice in your hands, or place ice on your wrists or the back of your neck. Just be careful not to get frostbite and maybe avoid this one if you have Reynaud’s disease or a circulation issue
I (Emma) also struggle with panic attacks, and for me, the most effective method was to ground myself in my senses—identifying and naming out loud things that I could see, smell, touch, taste, and hear. I would also run my palms up and down the coarse texture of my jeans (it also mirrors stimming, or moving your body or vocalizing in a way that is self soothing for neurodiverse people). I also acknowledge that for me this is not enough, and I like many others need medication—and that seeking medical help is not a sign of weakness but one of strength.
Another great resource is Point of Pride’s Meditations for Trans People, a collection on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube of meditations and mental health exercises, including grounding exercises, created by and for trans people. These practices are focused on protecting and fostering mental health and celebrating queer and trans joy, and only take about 5-10 minutes.
You are important, and your life is valuable. If you are in need of help, please reach out to the resources below:
Resources for those in immediate crisis:
LGBT National Hotline - call (888) 843-4564 (available from 4pm - 12am EST Monday - Friday and noon to 5pm EST Saturday)
Suicide & Crisis Lifeline - call or text 988 (available 24/7; to call an LGBTQIA+ trained crisis counselor, dial 988, and then press 3; to text, send the word PRIDE to 988)
Trans Lifeline - call (877) 565-8860 (staffed by transgender folx, for transgender folx, toll-free)
Crisis Text Line - text HOME to 741741 (available 24/7)
The Trevor Project - text START to 678-678 or call at 1-866-488-7386 (for young LGBTQ+ people under the age of 25)
And for all of us, now it is more important than ever to be gentle with ourselves, to give ourselves grace as we navigate unprecedented and difficult times. If you are in need of longer-term support, please find it below.
Resources for longer-term support:
National Queer & Trans Therapists of Color Network - This network advances healing justice by transforming mental health for queer and trans Black, Indigenous and People of Color (great resource for finding a local mental health provider)
How do I find LGBTQ-friendly therapy? - An article by the Human Rights Campaign and Mental Health America to give tips on finding affirming mental health providers.
Human Rights Campaign - search additional resources by topic (great general resource guide)
Reclamation Collection - A 501c3 organization centering survivors of religious trauma and spiritual abuse through virtual support groups. As the website indicates, “survivors are not on a mission field, and the Reclamation Collective is not a ministry, but rather a collective of survivors ourselves reimagining systems of care.”
Religious Trauma Collective - Although focused on connecting people with mental health providers in Australia and New Zealand, the website contains information and resources about understanding religious trauma.
 | A guest post by
|
Thank you, Emma! Beautiful piece with so many resources!