Is God listening? My relationship with God as a Trauma Survivor

Before I start this blog, I want to give a trigger warning. In this post I will mention suicide and suicidal ideation. If reading about these topics are difficult for you, please click away and read a different blog post on the site. If you or someone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please call the crisis hotline at 800-273-8255. You matter.

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I know a lot of people have complicated relationships with religion that stem from judgement, homophobia, hatred, and other traumatic events that have either happened in a church or were delivered by the hands of someone associated with the church. For me, religion has been a huge part of my life since the age of 3.

I started attending church When my grandmother was legally granted custody of me. When I started attending my grandmother’s church I LOVED it! The people were nice, we ate lunch after every service, and I felt like I was part of a family. I have always viewed my church family as blood relatives. They are a group of people that are genuine and make me feel supported and cared for, they still do.

When I started attending church I was appointed a God-Father who served as a spiritual mentor who picked my siblings and I up for Sunday School. During these rides to Sunday School, Mr. O would give us 50 cents to put in the collection plate so we could feel part of the church experience. I enjoyed riding with him to Sunday School and honestly, I also enjoyed being in the presence of someone else that I felt cared about me.

As a young child the feeling of “nobody cares” manifested itself within my heart rather early. It was a weird dynamic of knowing my grandmother loved me, yet still feeling alone and abandoned. To be completely honest, one of my first memories is feeling alone. The bright spot of spending time with Mr. O before church and having him as a God-Father made me feel seen. It made the feeling of “nobody cares” a little less intense. As I grew up and became more aware of my trauma, the feeling of “nobody cares” continued to get stronger despite the presence of my church family.

For instance, when I was maybe 6 or 7, I vividly remember staring at a knife in the kitchen and thinking to myself, I wonder what would happen if I stabbed myself. At the time I didn’t have the words, but looking back I now know that it was my first time experiencing thoughts of wanting to hurt myself. This thought popped into my head quite often, so much so that I started to wonder how God would feel if I did it. Would God be okay if I stabbed myself? Would God hate me if I stabbed myself? Thinking about God’s feelings came naturally because for me, the people at my church felt like having God around. My church taught the philosophy of treating our neighbors as ourselves, so in a way, I connected God to my church family since how they treated people were similar to the way God was talked about in Sunday School. As a result, I remember not wanting my grandmother and church family to be sad and I didn’t want God to be mad if I were to stab myself, so I never told anybody about these thoughts. The thoughts were still present, I just didn’t want to make things worse by saying anything so I kept them to myself as they continued to grow.

As the thoughts grew stronger, I remember sitting in my kitchen and putting the blade of a knife on my arm, and just staring at it. I didn’t puncture myself, I just sat like that for a while coming to a decision that I was going to do it. After making that decision, this is when I believe God intervened because I remember attending church a few days later talking to a church member who has become my second grandmother, Ms. K. I don’t remember the whole conversation, but I remember at one point her saying that God wants us to be happy and that we do that through the choices we make. She also spoke about God not giving up on us so we shouldn't give up on Him. That conversation is what changed my mind because she was right. I was just a kid and I had so much more life to experience and opportunity for God to show me that trauma wouldn’t always dominate my life.

Although I grew closer to God that day, I have to be honest and say I’m not a religious person. I don’t read the bible, attending church regularly is no longer part of my ministry, and being around heavy religious conversation makes me feel out of place. Mainly because I have more of a spiritual connection with God, and it has remained strong ever since that conversation with Ms. K. It hasn’t been easy to maintain because like many people, I question why God has allowed me to experience so many negative emotions and experiences and did nothing to help me. I question why he didn’t just take the bad stuff away. When I find myself questioning Him heavily, I tend to shut down and stop engaging in God related content. I can’t bring myself to openly praise Him, and I also can’t bring myself to stop believing and give up on Him. Having these moments of neutrality is my way of letting God know that I’m not happy with Him and I just need a break. As a trauma survivor, these moments happen quite often. It’s just hard to praise God when I’m experiencing so much devastation and trauma is all I’m experiencing.

Things really got bad the year I found out Mr. O’s body was discovered near a bridge with signs pointing to him committing suicide, after a new priest came into my church and excommunicated him for reasons that steamed from them wanting control over everything and everyone associated with the church. Mr. O had been a devoted member of the church since I met him so to have this role taken away from him was devastating.

I remember being a kid and that being the first time I was truly mad at God because he allowed this priest to come in and push Mr. O away in a manner that he didn’t deserve. I was also reminded of my previous suicidal thoughts and conflicted on if I made the right decision or not. All of these thoughts, feelings, and experiences were happening and I didn’t understand why God wasn’t doing something. On the outside I continued to be involved in the church, but on the inside I felt terrible and pissed that it felt as if God had left me and taken Mr. O with him. Throughout my life I've had a rocky relationship with how I praised God because the standard ways felt fake to me.

Why would I stand up, shout, and get crunk for God when he left me? Yet, I also couldn't stay mad at God because I still felt connected to Him. I was thankful that I gained my church family because of our connection to Him. I just couldn’t engage in the standard religious practices and customs of reading my bible, quoting scriptures, and being an openly devoted christian the way I was expected to. Therefore, I decided to identify as a Spiritual Christian. What that means to me, is that I want to focus on my relationship with Him rather than showing and engaging in rituals that no longer feel authentic. I can't pretend that being a trauma survivor and losing Mr. O as a child hasn’t left me feeling some kind of way towards God, yet I also can’t pretend He hasn’t blessed me despite the trauma and grief. To be frank, I changed my religious perspective to spiritual because it’s the only way I could maintain my relationship with God while still being honest with myself.

I wasn't sure at first, but now I can' honestly say that I believe God respects my decision and understands why I made it. I say this because ever since I began identifying as a Spiritual Christian, he has blessed me in ways that only He could deliver. Blessings that are specific remedies to the ripple effects of my trauma. To receive these blessings after no longer partaking in christian customs, especially prayer, really surprised me. I genuinely thought God would stop blessing me when I decided to stop praying and instead I randomly say out loud, when my heart feels the desire to, “Thank you God, please bless and protect my loved ones.” It’s the only form of prayer I engage in now and God has continued to bless me in huge areas of my life, in ways that let me know He hears me and He’s still with me.

As a trauma survivor with a religious background, maintaining a relationship with God is extremely hard. You question his decision making. You question why he has allowed, and continues to allow, trauma to wreak havoc over your life. You may even question why he chose you to be the person to experience trauma. I still have moments, especially over the past year or so when I lost my brother, mom, a member of my church family, and a close friend I’ve had since high school within the span of a year.

It’s hard to devote myself to someone that continues to take the little I have left in my life, yet I still believe. I don’t openly praise God and on the outside looking in, some may not know that I believe in God because my actions don’t include those commonly associated with Christians. Instead, I praise God on the inside and from time to time I may write something expressing my gratitude, but for the most part I keep God in my heart. I understand to some this may look like I’m half steppin and some may even say I’m not a real christian and to that I say you’re right.

As trauma survivors, it’s hard to maintain a relationship with God. Some survivors no longer have that relationship, while some never had it. I’m not writing this post to sell you on God or to say you must find a way to maintain your relationship with Him. What I’m saying is that you get to decide how you believe, or if you want to believe. I chose to find a way to maintain my relationship with God because I didn’t want to allow trauma to take away a constant presence in my life. A presence that spoke to me through Ms. K and stopped me from ending my life in the kitchen with a knife at the age of 6 or 7. He spoke to me for a reason and I just want to do what I can to see it come to fruition. God hasn’t given up on me, and I don’t plan to give up on him.

Until Next Time

~Brina

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Disclaimer: This blog post doesn’t serve as therapy or professional help. If you’re in need of professional help, visit the resources section of the website.