How I’m Cultivating Joy as a Religious Trauma Survivor (While Living Under a Government That Reflects the High-Control Religion I Escaped)
Last weekend I was at a friend’s house in San Diego and noticed a new piece of decor on one of the shelves in their office. It was a crocheted figure of a flaming dumpster, with a card attached to it that said “Emotional Support Dumpster Fire: It’s fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine.” I chuckled to myself because it was cute and funny, but I also tensed up a little - it felt true, foreboding, and ominous.
Now, here we are only six days in to a second Trump presidency, and I’ve already had several WTAF moments. It feels like we have lived 100 days into 2025 already. But here we are - the third week of January. Christmas was just a little over four weeks ago. How is that even possible?
I’ve seen many posts on social media asking the rhetorical question “How am I going to survive another four years of this dumpster fire?” With the signing of multiple executive orders, the shutting down of several government offices, the withdrawal from world organizations, it is totally valid to feel like just surviving might be the best case scenario over the next four years. I’ve definitely had similar thoughts.
Enter an Instagram story from Tia Levings, author of NYT bestseller A Well Trained Wife: My Escape from Christian Patriarchy, that popped up on my feed a couple days ago. She said, “Being a religious trauma survivor who has reclaimed my life and healing means I’m not waiting for the next 4 years to be over to live and be happy. The theocracy can suck it.”
My insides resounded with a big “HELL YES.” What better act of rebellion than to navigate these next 4 years living fully instead of just trying to get through it?
Let me be clear - this is not an ostrich-with-its-head-in-the-sand moment. I am very aware that the world seems like it is burning down (both figuratively and literally) all around us. AND I am very aware that in order for me to thrive and contribute to my community in meaningful ways, I need to prioritize caring for myself. That means doing the things that give me life and joy. Both things can be true at the same time, and I encourage you to hold space for both.
Here are some ways that I plan to live fully and access joy over the next four years as a religious trauma survivor and therapist:
1. Embrace Small Acts of Rebellion
When I say “rebellion,” I don’t mean grand, headline-worthy acts (though those have their place, too). Nor am I suggesting anything illegal or violent. I’m talking about the everyday choices that affirm my autonomy and reject the fear-based narratives I grew up with. It’s choosing to wear what feels good to me, not what others deem “appropriate.” My queer T-shirts that say “God Save the Queens” and “Probably Still Gay” will likely get more wear-time. (if you need some fun T-shirts with a message, might I suggest RayGun).
It’s reclaiming my weekends for rest and connection instead of endless productivity. It’s speaking openly about my experiences in conservative evangelicalism and high control religion and refusing to stay silent about the harm those institutions cause. These small acts may not change the world overnight, but they’re powerful reminders that I am free—and that freedom is something worth celebrating.
2. Participate in Fun
Joy doesn’t always have to be profound or deeply reflective; sometimes, it’s just about having fun. Lately, I’ve been leaning into activities that bring me genuine delight, like pickleball and game nights with friends. Also on my calendar this winter: attending my first comedy show, and seeing Joy Oladokun perform whose music and sound I absolutely love.
Play and fun are often overlooked in adulthood, especially for survivors of high-control religion where enjoyment was sometimes framed as selfish or indulgent. (Everything was so serious because people all around you were supposedly going to hell, and it was your responsibility to save them!) But engaging in fun reminds me that life is meant to be lived. It’s a way of reclaiming my right to happiness, no matter what’s happening around me.
If you’re looking for ways to invite joy into your life, start by asking yourself: What used to make me smile before life got so heavy? Then give yourself permission to explore those things again—even if it feels silly or frivolous. Joy is worth it.
3. Cultivate something
There’s something deeply healing about nurturing growth. For me, that has often taken the form of gardening: planting flowers, growing a vegetable garden, and tending to houseplants.
I’m in a MarcoPolo group with friends who all like to garden. We keep in touch via the app and share how our veggies and plants are doing, swapping videos of gardening triumphs and losses. But over the last couple of year, my garden was non-existent. Whether due to exhaustion, overwhelm, a potential move, or thoughts like “What’s the point?” or “If I lose another cucumber plant to a goddamn gopher I will lose my mind,” I had given up on it.
But after the results of the 2024 election, something shifted internally for me and I felt an overwhelming sense of “I need to grow something - I think I need to start gardening again.” I jumped back on Marco Polo and shared my epiphany with my gardening friends, and committed to cultivating the garden this year, along with the relationships with my beloved friends in our little gardening group…gophers, powdery mildew, and Trump be damned! (one of my friends suggested we should put that phrase on a shirt - maybe I should reach out to aforementioned T-shirt company.)
I’m happy to report that I currently have sweet peas climbing a trellis, herbs settling into raised beds, and a few unusual varieties of tomatoes germinating under a grow light in the garage.
This act of cultivation serves as a metaphor for my own healing journey. Growth takes time, patience, and care. It’s okay to start small, to experiment, and to learn as you go. Watching something flourish reminds me of my own resilience and ability to create beauty in the midst of uncertainty.
So, start a new creative project, nurture a hobby, learn a language, invest in a relationship, prioritize your health, or simply care for something that brings you joy. Whatever it is that you decide to cultivate, let it be a reminder to you that growth can still happen in the midst of challenging times.
A Note to Fellow Survivors of Religious Trauma…
If you’re reading this and feeling the weight of the current political hellscape landscape, please know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel scared, angry, and overwhelmed. Those feelings are valid—and they in NO way make you weak.
But I also want to remind you that joy is still possible. Even in the face of fear, even in a system that feels stacked against you, even with Christian nationalism occupying the highest seats in our government, you can create moments of beauty, connection, and hope. It won’t erase the pain, but it will remind you of your strength and the life you’re building on your terms.
If you’re looking for support on your healing journey, I’m here to help. As a therapist specializing in religious trauma, I’m currently accepting new clients in CA, FL, and MO. Request a free consultation below, and let’s take the next step together.