Grief is a word we typically reserve for death, for the finality of losing someone we love. It comes with rituals—funerals, memorials, casseroles left on your doorstep—markers that help us process the void left behind. But there’s another type of grief, one that’s often overlooked, misunderstood, or dismissed. It’s the grief of abandonment.
This kind of grief doesn’t come with closure. The person you’re mourning is still out there, living their life, maybe even thriving. They’re just not in your life anymore, and not because they were taken away, but because they chose to leave. You know you could reach out, send a message, or even run into them in the grocery store. And yet, their silence speaks louder than any words could.
For those of us who’ve experienced religious trauma, this form of grief cuts even deeper. It’s not just losing people you care about; it’s losing an entire community, a belief system, and often your sense of self. It’s mourning the world you once knew while navigating the uncharted waters of who you’re becoming.
When Grief Isn’t Final
Grieving someone who’s still alive is a strange and lonely experience. There’s no clear end, no definitive moment that tells you it’s time to move on. Instead, it’s a liminal space—a constant push and pull between hope and reality.
You find yourself wondering:
- Did I do something wrong?
- Could I fix this if I just tried harder?
- Do they miss me at all?
- Was I ever really important to them?
Of course this kind of loss doesn’t always happen in the context of religious trauma, but when it does, those questions multiply. High-demand faith systems often come with unspoken conditions for love and belonging: stay in the fold, follow the rules, believe what we believe. The moment you step outside those boundaries—whether by questioning your faith, embracing your identity, or simply prioritising your mental health—you risk losing the people who once felt like your entire world.
For me, the hardest part wasn’t just losing people; it was the sense of betrayal. The love I thought was unconditional turned out to be anything but. I wasn’t Sam, their friend, anymore. I was Sam, the one who had “fallen away.” The one who needed saving—or, worse, cutting off entirely to protect their own faith.
The Layers Of Religious Abandonment
Religious abandonment isn’t just about losing relationships. It’s a multi-layered grief that touches every part of your life:
The Loss of Identity – In many faith communities, your beliefs aren’t just something you have; they’re who you are. When you leave, you’re not just losing your place in the community—you’re losing a core part of your identity.
The Loss of Belonging – Faith communities often act as extended families, providing a sense of safety and connection. Losing that community can leave you feeling untethered and profoundly alone.
The Shame and Self-Blame – Many of us internalise the idea that we’re the problem. If only we could believe harder, follow the rules better, or stop questioning, they’d still be here.
The Spiritual Impact – It’s not just relationships that are lost; it’s often your connection to the divine. When God has been presented as conditional or punishing, the abandonment feels cosmic, not just personal.
Grieving The Loss While Holding The Pain
There’s no right way to grieve this kind of loss, and no magic formula for healing. But here’s what I’ve learned through my own journey:
Acknowledge the Loss
It’s okay to grieve someone who’s still alive. It’s okay to say, This hurt me. I didn’t deserve this. You don’t have to minimise your pain just because it wasn’t death.
Challenge the Shame
Religious trauma often teaches us to internalise shame—to believe we’re broken, sinful, or unworthy. But choosing your authenticity, even at the cost of relationships, is a brave and honourable act. The shame doesn’t belong to you; it belongs to the system that made love conditional.
Let Go of the “What-Ifs”
The “what-ifs” are relentless. What if I’d stayed quiet? What if I’d followed the rules? But those questions don’t honour the courage it took to choose yourself. You didn’t lose them because you failed; you lost them because they couldn’t hold space for your growth.
Build New Connections
The loss of belonging is profound, but it doesn’t have to last forever. Seek out people who see and love you for who you are—not for how well you fit their expectations. Healing often begins in community.
Give Yourself Time
Healing from this kind of grief isn’t linear. Some days, you’ll feel like you’re making progress. Other days, the pain will knock you off your feet. Both are part of the process. Be gentle with yourself.
A New Beginning
Grieving abandonment—especially in the context of religious trauma—is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. It’s not just mourning the people you’ve lost; it’s mourning the version of yourself that once felt safe and secure in their love.
But here’s the thing: this isn’t the end of your story. It’s the beginning of something new.
Over time, I’ve come to see the relationships I lost for what they were. They weren’t unconditional, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t matter. It just means they weren’t built to last through the changes I needed to make for myself. And that’s okay.
If you’re in the thick of this grief, know that you’re not alone. Your pain is real. Your loss is valid. And your healing is possible.
This is grief. But it’s also a reclamation—a chance to build a life, relationships, and a sense of self that’s rooted in authenticity, not conformity.
You are worth that kind of love.
If this resonates with you, and you’re navigating the pain of abandonment or the unique grief tied to religious trauma, you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here to offer a safe, compassionate space to help you process, heal, and rediscover your sense of self. Reach out here