a licensed therapist dedicated to helping individuals and families heal from religious trauma, navigate faith transitions, and embrace meaningful life changes. My approach is grounded in compassion, evidence-based practices like DBT and EMDR, and a deep understanding of the unique challenges my clients face. I believe in creating a space where you feel seen, supported, and empowered to reconnect with your inner compass.
Leaving a high-control religion does not just change what you believe.
It changes where you belong.
For many people leaving Mormonism, or another conservative high-control religion, one of the most disorienting losses is not only the doctrine, the certainty, or the identity. It is the loss of a built-in community structure.
You may lose Sunday worship.
You may lose midweek activities.
You may lose ministering visits.
You may lose youth group.
You may lose Relief Society, elders quorum, ward parties, service projects, temple nights, playgroups, and the easy assumption that someone nearby shares your worldview.
And even when some of those spaces were complicated, controlling, exclusionary, or painful, they still functioned as a kind of social home.
So when people leave, the grief can feel confusing.
Because you may know you needed to leave.
You may feel freer, safer, more honest, and more connected to yourself.
And still, you may miss having somewhere to go.
A “third place” is a place outside of home and work where people experience connection, belonging, familiarity, and community.
Home is your first place.
Work or school is often your second place.
A third place is where you get to be a human among other humans.
It might be a coffee shop, yoga studio, gym, library, park, book club, recovery group, running group, art class, community garden, neighborhood gathering spot, volunteer space, or small business where people start to know your name.
For people leaving high-control religion, finding a third place can become part of healing.
Not because it replaces the church.
But because it helps rebuild what the church may have monopolized: belonging.
In Mormonism, community is not just encouraged. It is built into the system.
There are callings, wards, youth activities, Primary programs, Relief Society lessons, priesthood meetings, ward councils, ministering assignments, temple trips, and family-centered social expectations.
For many people, this means the church becomes the center of nearly everything.
Your friends may be connected to the church.
Your children’s activities may be connected to the church.
Your social calendar may be connected to the church.
Your service opportunities may be connected to the church.
Your identity may be connected to the church.
Your sense of being known may be connected to the church.
So when someone leaves, it is rarely just a private theological shift.
It can become a social rupture.
People may stop checking in. Friends may become awkward. Family relationships may change. Invitations may disappear. The Sunday rhythm may feel empty. Children may wonder where everyone went. Adults may feel like they are starting over socially in their thirties, forties, fifties, or beyond.
And that is not small.
Losing a high-control religious community can feel like losing an entire ecosystem.
For many post-Mormon individuals and families, the LDS Church functioned as the third place.
It was the place people gathered outside of home and work.
It gave people a calendar.
It gave people roles.
It gave people rituals.
It gave people familiar faces.
It gave people something to do on Sundays.
It gave children a place to belong.
It gave adults a sense of structure and contribution.
Of course, that belonging often came with conditions.
You belonged if you stayed within the lines.
You belonged if you believed correctly.
You belonged if your family looked a certain way.
You belonged if your gender expression fit the mold.
You belonged if your sexuality stayed hidden or compliant.
You belonged if your questions stayed quiet enough.
You belonged if your life could still be interpreted as faithful.
That is the painful paradox of many high-control religions.
They may offer belonging, but the belonging is often conditional.
So after leaving, many people are not just grieving community.
They are grieving conditional belonging while trying to build something healthier.
Families leaving Mormonism often need new places to belong together.
This matters because children feel the loss too.
Even if a child did not love church, they may still notice the absence of familiar routines, seasonal activities, neighborhood connection, and shared family rituals. Parents may feel pressure to fill the gap quickly, especially if they are trying to help their children feel like leaving religion did not mean losing everything.
But building new community takes time.
A new third place does not usually arrive fully formed.
It is built slowly through repetition.
You go to the same park.
You try the same coffee shop.
You show up to the same yoga class.
You join the same climbing gym.
You attend the same library events.
You find a local art class, dance studio, gaming group, farmers market, volunteer project, or neighborhood event.
At first, it may feel awkward.
Then one day someone recognizes you.
Then someone remembers your drink order.
Then your child sees the same kid again.
Then you start to feel a little less like you are floating.
This is how belonging often grows after religion.
Not all at once.
But through repeated experiences of safe-enough connection.
One of the sneaky leftovers of high-control religion is the belief that meaningful community has to be spiritually branded to count.
It does not.
Your third place does not have to look sacred to be sacred.
It can be the gym where your body starts to feel like yours again.
It can be the coffee shop where you write, breathe, and remember you are allowed to take up space.
It can be the yoga studio where no one asks for your temple recommend and you get to reconnect with your body without shame.
It can be the library where your kids discover new stories.
It can be a hiking group where you remember the earth does not need you to perform worthiness before it welcomes you.
It can be a queer-affirming book club, a pottery studio, a sports league, a dance class, a community garden, a dog park, or a group of friends who gather for Sunday brunch because Sunday no longer has to belong to the church.
Sometimes healing looks like reclaiming ordinary places.
Sometimes it looks like realizing coffee with a friend can be more nourishing than a meeting you attended out of obligation.
Sometimes it looks like building a life where belonging does not require self-abandonment.
Religious trauma can make community complicated.
After leaving a high-control religion, many people crave connection but also feel afraid of it.
That makes sense.
If community once meant surveillance, judgment, gossip, worthiness interviews, gender roles, spiritual pressure, or being loved only when you complied, then your nervous system may not immediately trust new groups.
You might want belonging and fear being trapped.
You might want friendship and fear being controlled.
You might want support and fear being recruited.
You might want closeness and fear losing yourself again.
This is why rebuilding community after religion often requires tenderness and choice.
You do not need to jump into a new group and hand over your whole self.
You get to move slowly.
You get to notice how your body feels.
You get to ask:
Do I feel more like myself here?
Can I leave without being punished?
Are differences allowed here?
Is curiosity welcomed?
Are my children safe to be themselves?
Is there room for boundaries?
Do I have to perform to belong?
A healthy third place should not require you to shrink.
It should help you feel more human.
A third place will look different for every person and every family. The goal is not to recreate the ward. The goal is to find spaces where connection, repetition, and belonging can grow without coercion.
Some possibilities include:
Coffee shops or local cafés
Yoga, pilates, or movement studios
Gyms or climbing gyms
Libraries and community classes
Book clubs or writing groups
Running, hiking, cycling, or paddleboarding groups
Dance studios or art classes
Farmers markets
Dog parks
Queer-affirming community spaces
Volunteer organizations
Neighborhood events
Parent groups outside of religious spaces
Secular recovery groups
Post-Mormon meetups
Sunday brunch rituals
Game nights with safe friends
Community gardens
Local small businesses where you feel known
The best third place is not necessarily the coolest one.
It is the one you will actually return to.
Belonging grows through repetition.
For parents leaving Mormonism, there can be a deep ache around children and belonging.
Many parents wonder:
Will my kids feel like outsiders?
Will they miss church friends?
Will they resent me?
Will they have enough community?
Will they have values without the church?
Will they know how to make meaning?
These are tender questions.
But children do not only need church to have community.
They need safe, consistent spaces where they can be known, supported, challenged, and loved without being forced into a predetermined identity.
That might happen through sports, dance, theater, martial arts, music, art, school clubs, community service, neighborhood friendships, or family rituals.
It can also happen at home.
A family can create its own rhythms after religion.
Sunday pancakes.
Nature walks.
Movie nights.
Family coffee shop mornings.
Board games.
Farmers market trips.
Hikes.
Service projects chosen by the family, not assigned by a ward.
Seasonal rituals that reflect your actual values.
Children can learn that meaning is not something handed down only by an institution.
Meaning is something we can build with honesty, connection, and care.
One of the hardest parts of leaving a high-control religion is realizing how much the institution did for you structurally, even when it was also harmful.
It gave you a schedule.
It gave you people.
It gave you rituals.
It gave you expectations.
It gave you a map.
After leaving, you may have to build those things more intentionally.
That can feel unfair.
Because in some ways, it is.
You may be grieving what you never got to have: a community that loved you without requiring you to betray yourself.
So be gentle with yourself.
You do not have to rebuild an entire life overnight.
You do not have to find your new people immediately.
You do not have to make every Sunday meaningful.
You do not have to create a perfect post-Mormon family culture by next week.
You are allowed to start small.
One walk.
One coffee shop.
One class.
One friend.
One safe room.
One place where your body exhales a little.
That counts.
Finding a third place after leaving Mormonism is not just about having something to do.
It is about rebuilding belonging without coercion.
It is about finding places where your humanity is not dependent on obedience.
It is about creating community that allows questions, differences, boundaries, queerness, grief, joy, embodiment, and change.
It is about helping families and individuals remember that leaving a high-control religion does not mean they are destined to be alone.
It means they now get to choose where and how they belong.
That can be scary.
It can also be beautiful.
Because this time, belonging does not have to come at the cost of yourself.
At Inner Compass Counseling & Consultation, we support individuals, couples, and families navigating religious trauma, faith transitions, mixed-faith relationships, and life after high-control religion.
We understand that leaving Mormonism is not just a belief change. It can impact your relationships, parenting, identity, sexuality, nervous system, family culture, and sense of belonging.
If you are trying to rebuild community, meaning, and connection after religion, you do not have to do it alone.
We offer therapy in Gilbert, Arizona, and online therapy for clients in Arizona and Utah.
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Inner Compass is a licensed mental health haven in Gilbert, Arizona for individuals, couples, families, and teens who are navigating life’s transitions and trauma.
Inner Compass is a licensed mental health haven in Gilbert, Arizona for individuals, couples, families, and teens who are navigating life’s transitions and trauma.

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