There’s a strange ache that often comes with walking away from religion, even when it was harmful, even when it hurt. You might not miss the rules or the guilt or the sermons. But you might miss something else.
Maybe it was the predictability of Sunday morning or the shared songs. Maybe it was knowing what to do when life got overwhelming you could say a prayer or go to a gathering.
And for a lot of us, when we leave, we’re not just leaving belief systems or institutions. We’re also leaving the container that gave our days, our seasons, and our struggles a sense of structure and rhythm.
I hear this a lot from people I work with: “I didn’t even realise how much I relied on those rituals until they were gone.”
It makes sense. Religious communities often offer very tangible ways to mark time and cope with life involving weekly services, holiday traditions, rituals for birth, death, marriage, coming-of-age, grief, crisis, and joy. When all of that disappears, it can feel like walking into a free-fall. A relief, maybe but also disorienting.
So what do we do with that? How do we reclaim that rhythm and rebuild meaning, without going back to a religion that no longer fits?
Why Rituals (Even the Small Ones) Matter
Let’s define ritual simply. Ritual is any intentional act that helps you mark a moment or make meaning. It doesn’t have to involve chanting, candles, or sacred texts. It doesn’t have to be solemn or serious (although it can be). A ritual is just something you do to anchor yourself.
- It can be lighting incense before journaling.
- It can be making the same cup of tea every morning and sitting with your thoughts or a good book.
- It can be blasting your “I’m-Not-A-Christian-Anymore” playlist. (Highly recommend, by the way.)
Rituals help us feel grounded. They offer comfort, repetition, and a sense of safety. When things are chaotic, rituals are like internal scaffolding, they hold us together.
In religion, rituals tell you how to grieve, how to celebrate, how to show up for others. So when you leave those spaces, and that scaffolding disappears, it’s really common to feel a bit… unheld.
And here’s the thing: you don’t need to be religious to have rituals. But you do need to be intentional about creating them, especially when you’ve been told for years that rituals only count if they’re connected to a higher power.
Building Rhythm Without the Rules
One of the sneaky impacts of religious trauma is that it can make you second-guess your desire for routine. You might catch yourself thinking, “Is it bad that I want something structured? Am I just recreating the same thing I left?”
Let me say this clearly: structure is not inherently bad or owned by religion.
Yes, religious systems often used structure to control, but the rhythm itself wasn’t the problem. It was the rigidity. The lack of consent. The shame that came with breaking routine.
But rhythm? Rhythm can be beautiful.
- It helps you know where you are in the world.
- It gives you a sense of continuity.
- It reminds your nervous system that it’s safe to rest, to breathe, to try again tomorrow.
So what does rhythm without the rules look like?
It looks like:
- A weekly ritual of reflection that you do because it’s meaningful, not because you’re afraid not to.
- A yearly marker of your “spiritual birthday” – the day you left, the day you changed your mind, the day you reclaimed your life.
- Honouring your values through your calendar – scheduling rest, activism, joy, or time in nature not because someone told you to, but because it aligns with who you are now.
Reclaiming rhythm is about choice. It’s about moving away from obligation and towards intention.
From Holy Days to Holidays: Reclaiming Time
One of the trickiest transitions after leaving religion is what to do with holidays. Christmas, Easter, Ramadan, Yom Kippur – these are more than just dates. They’re often emotionally loaded, full of memories, family expectations, and (if we’re honest) low-key dread.
Some people avoid them altogether. Others reclaim them in new ways. And some start creating entirely new days of meaning.
There’s no right way to do it but it’s worth paying attention to how you feel around these times. Are you grieving? Angry? Nostalgic? Longing for connection? All of that is valid.
I’ve worked with people who’ve:
- Created a “Leaving Day” to mark their deconstruction anniversary, complete with cake and chosen family.
- Reimagined Easter as a celebration of rebirth, not of Jesus, but of themselves.
- Made their own Sabbath ritual that looks like Sunday brunch, phone-free walks, and zero expectations.
For me, it’s music. It’s Missy Higgins, Lay Gaga, Taylor Swift, and all of Wicked tracks. It’s a ritual of memory and reclamation. It reminds me who I am now.
So what’s sacred to you now? What deserves to be marked?
Is it the day you came out? The first time you said “I don’t believe that anymore”? The moment you stopped praying and started listening to your own voice?
Those are worth commemorating.
Creating Meaning That’s Truly Yours
Let’s not pretend this is easy. Rebuilding meaning after religion isn’t just about lighting candles and finding pretty rituals. It’s about reckoning with grief, reparenting yourself, and learning to trust your instincts again.
It takes time and unlearning. It takes a bit of courage to try something new without knowing if it will feel “real enough.” But it’s also deeply freeing.
You get to ask yourself questions like:
- What do I actually need in this season of life?
- What brings me peace, grounding, or joy?
- What helps me feel connected, to myself, to others, to something bigger than me (even if that “bigger” is just community or nature or a sense of wonder)?
There’s a quote I love, I’ve seen it floating around in different versions:
“You can be spiritual without being religious, and you can be grounded without going to church. You can light your own damn candles.”
It’s a reminder that you don’t need permission to create something meaningful.
- Your rituals don’t need to be approved.
- Your rhythm doesn’t have to match anyone else’s.
- You get to define what sacred means now.
A Few Ideas to Get You Started
If you’re feeling stuck, here are a few gentle ways to experiment with rhythm and ritual:
- Morning grounding: Stretch, breathe, journal one line, or just sit quietly with your coffee.
- Seasonal check-ins: Use solstices, equinoxes, or your own milestones as moments to pause and reflect.
- Grief rituals: Write a letter to your past self. Burn old journal entries. Plant something in memory of who you used to be.
- Connection practices: Share a meal with chosen family, light a candle for someone you miss, or send a voice note to a friend each week.
- Joy rituals: Dance to your favourite song every Friday. Make pancakes on the first Saturday of the month. Start a “things that made me laugh” list.
Don’t try to do it all at once. Just start somewhere.
Something small. Something that feels like yours.
It’s Not About Replicating. It’s About Reclaiming
Leaving religion doesn’t mean giving up on meaning and it doesn’t mean abandoning rhythm. It means you’re no longer outsourcing your sacredness.
You’re building something that fits your values, your truth, your beautifully complicated life
- Choosing intention over obligation.
- Curiosity over certainty.
- And connection over performance.
That’s not just brave, it can be revolutionary.
If you would like to connect you can find me on Instagram – @anchoredcounsellingservices or if you’re interested in therapy use this contact form.
Also, connect in with The Religious Trauma Collective