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.

And what it means to begin healing
She was eight years old when she first looked in the mirror and imagined herself as a bride. Not because she was a romantic child. Because she had been taught — clearly, repeatedly, with posters on the wall and lessons in class — that her highest purpose was to become one.
She was a teenager when she learned that her body was a problem to be managed. That desire was dangerous. That if something happened to her, the question would be what she’d been wearing.
She was an adult — maybe in a therapist’s office, maybe alone at 2 a.m. — when she first understood that what had happened to her had a name.
It’s called Religious Trauma Syndrome. And for many women, recognizing it is the first thing that finally makes sense.
Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS) is a term developed by psychologist and former fundamentalist Christian Marlene Winell to describe the specific cluster of symptoms that can emerge from prolonged exposure to authoritarian, high-control, or fundamentalist religious environments. Winell, who holds a doctorate in human development and has worked with religious trauma survivors for decades, first published her work on RTS in 2011.
RTS is not simply the pain of leaving a religion you loved. It is the result of a system — delivered at church, at school, and at home — that suppresses healthy development, controls information and independent thinking, and uses fear, shame, and punishment to enforce compliance. Winell describes it as similar in profile to PTSD, but with additional layers specific to the religious context: the loss of a worldview, a community, and often a family.

RTS has four primary symptom domains — and for women, each one carries a specific, compounded weight that is rarely addressed in mainstream trauma conversation.
Confusion. Perfectionism. Difficulty making decisions. Negative beliefs about self-worth and capability. Black-and-white thinking. These are the hallmarks of the cognitive impact of RTS — and they are not random. They are the predictable result of a system that condemned independent thinking as sin, defined knowledge as something revealed by authority rather than discovered through experience, and taught women in particular that their instincts, their desires, and their perceptions were not to be trusted.
Many women raised in high-control religious environments describe spending years — sometimes decades — unable to make a simple decision without checking it against an external authority. They were never taught to trust themselves, because the system required that they not trust themselves. Their inner compass was confiscated at the door.
“When knowledge is revealed rather than discovered, you don’t develop the capacity to think for yourself. You develop the capacity to receive. And women in these systems are taught to be especially good receivers — of doctrine, of leadership, of their husband’s authority.”
This isn’t accidental. As we explored in our post on the BITE Model, high-control groups systematically regulate Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotion — and women are often subjected to each of these domains in compounded, gendered ways.
Depression. Anxiety. Grief. Anger. Loneliness. Difficulty with pleasure. Loss of meaning.
For women in high-control religious environments, the emotional landscape is particularly complicated, because so many of these emotions were forbidden. Anger was unfeminine, unspiritual, or a sign of rebellion. Doubt was faithlessness. Sadness that lingered too long was a sign of insufficient trust in God. Pleasure — especially bodily pleasure — was dangerous, something to be subdued and confessed.
What happens to emotions that have nowhere to go? They don’t disappear. They go underground. They emerge as depression, as chronic anxiety, as a strange numbness that makes it hard to feel joy even after leaving. Many women describe not knowing what they feel — having learned so thoroughly to suppress and translate their emotional experience into the acceptable categories the system provided.
Grief is also central here: grief for the faith that once held everything together, for the community that evaporated when they left, for the version of themselves they were told to become and either did or couldn’t — and for the years spent inside a system that cost more than they yet know how to measure.
A note for women reading this: If you feel guilty for grieving a religion that also harmed you — that is not confusion. That is the depth of what was taken. You are allowed to grieve the community, the certainty, the belonging, even as you name the harm. Those things can be true at the same time.
Loss of social network. Family rupture. Social awkwardness. Sexual difficulty. Feeling behind on developmental tasks.
For women, the social dimension of RTS is often where the sharpest pain lives. High-control religions are built around community — and that community is frequently the most real, most intimate thing a woman has. When she begins to question, or leaves, that community often disappears entirely. Not gradually. All at once. Shunning is not metaphorical in many of these systems. It is policy.
Family rupture is particularly devastating. A woman who leaves a high-control religion may lose not just her church family but her family of origin — parents, siblings, sometimes her own children, if the system’s doctrine on divorce, custody, or family relationships aligns against her. The message is unmistakable: the cost of your freedom is everything you love.
The sexual difficulty that Winell lists in the social domain is significant and often underaddressed in therapy. Women raised in purity culture are taught that their bodies are dangerous, that their sexuality is something to manage and offer rather than explore and own, that their value is intimately tied to their compliance with sexual rules. Take a look at how this was actually delivered to girls and young women:

Mormonad poster, The New Era, LDS Church. A young girl gazes in a mirror and sees her reflection as a bride. The message: your purpose, from childhood, is to become a wife.

Mormonad poster, The New Era, LDS Church, July 1993. ‘Chastity — don’t trade it for the world.’ Sexuality is framed as currency that can be lost, spent, or devalued.

Mormonad poster, LDS Church. ‘A mannequin wears whatever the world is selling. Your standards are higher than that.’ Girls are told their clothing is a moral statement — and that their bodies require management.
These images were hung on the walls of youth classrooms. They were given to girls at church. They communicated — with the full authority of a divine institution behind them — that a girl’s body was a problem, her sexuality was a commodity, and her future was already written: wife, eternal companion, mother. The mirror reflected a bride before she was old enough to know what she wanted.
The sexual difficulty Winell names in the social domain of RTS is, at least in part, the long shadow of messages exactly like this one.
These relational dynamics don’t emerge from nowhere. In our post on the Drama Triangle in high-control religions, we explore how the Victim, Rescuer, and Persecutor roles are deliberately assigned to keep members — especially women — from ever stepping outside the system.
Unfamiliarity with the secular world. ‘Fish out of water’ feelings. Difficulty belonging. Information gaps — evolution, modern art, music, history, science.
This is one of the most practically disorienting aspects of RTS, and one that is easy for outsiders to underestimate. Women who leave high-control religious communities often emerge into a world that has reference points, norms, and shared cultural knowledge they simply don’t have. They may not know how to navigate casual dating. They may not have been taught basic science. They may feel deep discomfort in spaces that are normal to everyone around them.
The ‘fish out of water’ experience is not just social awkwardness. It is the experience of arriving late to your own life. Of discovering that entire domains of human experience were hidden from you. Of feeling behind — not because you are less than, but because you were kept from.
For women especially, this can intersect painfully with questions of education and professional identity. Many women in high-control religions were steered — actively or by cultural expectation — away from careers, higher education, or ambitions that didn’t align with their prescribed role. Arriving in midlife or early adulthood with a gap where a sense of professional or intellectual self would be is a specific, real loss that RTS-informed therapy needs to address directly.
Winell is precise about what causes RTS. It is not simply bad theology. It is authoritarianism paired with toxic theology, delivered comprehensively across every domain of a child’s life — church, school, and home — such that normal development is arrested, not accidentally, but structurally.
She names four causes specifically:
For women, this list reads as a biography. Their developmental stages were managed. Their thinking was controlled. Their authority was externalized first to God, then to the church, then to their husband. Their bodies were subject to a moral and punitive gaze from the time they were children. RTS is not the unfortunate side effect of sincere but misguided religious belief. It is, in many cases, the predictable outcome of a system that was built this way.
“The doctrines of original sin and eternal damnation create the ultimate double bind: you are guilty and responsible, and face eternal punishment — yet you have no ability to fully fix it. Only the system can save you. This is not a bug. It is the design.” — Paraphrased from Marlene Winell, journeyfree.org
Winell is clear that there are ways to stop the cycle of abuse and recover. RTS is not a life sentence. But recovery requires more than leaving. It requires what was never allowed: the space to think, to feel, to question, and to be a self.
For women, healing from RTS often involves:
Rebuilding after RTS isn’t just about changing your beliefs — it’s about reclaiming an identity that was assigned before you were old enough to choose it. Our post on reclaiming your identity after a cult explores what that process actually looks like.
If you grew up looking at a poster of a little girl who saw a bride in the mirror and thought that was simply what you were supposed to want — you were not gullible. You were a child in a system that targeted children.
If you learned to manage your body, suppress your desires, mistrust your instincts, and build your entire sense of worth around your compliance — you were not weak. You were well-trained.
If you left and felt like you fell apart — like you didn’t know who you were or what was real or how to want things — that is Religious Trauma Syndrome. And it has a treatment.
At Inner Compass Counseling & Consultation, we work specifically with people healing from religious trauma — including women navigating the particular ways high-control religion targeted their bodies, their sexuality, their roles, and their sense of self. You don’t have to have it figured out to reach out. That’s what this work is for.
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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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