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.

Eight tactics, one hub: control
In 1993, the Domestic Abuse Intervention Project developed a framework to help survivors and clinicians understand the tactics abusers use to maintain power in intimate relationships. It’s called the Power and Control Wheel, and it has become one of the most widely used tools in domestic violence advocacy.
What’s striking — and clinically useful — is how cleanly this wheel maps onto high-control religious systems. The wheel was built to describe one person’s control over another. But the same eight tactics show up, almost without modification, when an institution exerts control over an entire community.
This isn’t a perfect one-to-one comparison, and high-control religion isn’t identical to an abusive relationship. But the overlap is too consistent to ignore — and naming it can be deeply clarifying for people trying to understand what happened to them.

Figure: The Religious Power & Control Wheel, adapted from the Power and Control Wheel (Domestic Abuse Intervention Project, 1993). Eight spokes — Authority, Shame, Insulation, Loss of Autonomy, Justification, Sex & Gender Control, Economic Control, and Coercion — radiate from a central hub of Power & Control.
Survivors of high-control religion often struggle to name what happened to them, because so much of it was wrapped in language of love, care, and divine purpose. “They weren’t abusive,” someone might say. “They just had high expectations.” Or: “It wasn’t really control. It was just how things worked.”
The Power and Control Wheel cuts through that fog. It doesn’t ask whether a system felt loving. It asks what function each behavior served. And in high-control religious systems, the function is almost always the same: maintaining the authority of the group over the individual.
Control doesn’t require a villain. It just requires a system where one party’s compliance benefits another party’s power — and enough tactics in place to keep it that way.
In the original wheel, this spoke describes one partner acting as the ultimate decision-maker. In high-control religion, authority is centralized in leadership, doctrine, or a hierarchy that claims to speak for God. Members are taught that questioning this authority is not just disagreement — it’s rebellion against the divine order itself.
Shame is used to enforce conformity by attacking a person’s basic sense of worth rather than simply their behavior. In high-control religion, shame often shows up as messaging that members are inherently sinful, broken, or insufficient — and that only continued submission to the group can manage that brokenness.
Insulation — sometimes called isolation in the original model — limits a person’s contact with outside information, relationships, and perspectives. High-control religious groups often restrict or discourage relationships with non-members, limit access to outside media, and frame the secular world as dangerous or spiritually contaminating.
This spoke describes the erosion of a person’s ability to make independent decisions about their own life — their relationships, their body, their time, their future. In high-control religion, major life decisions (who to marry, what career to pursue, how to parent) are often subject to approval, blessing, or direct control by leadership or doctrine.
Justification refers to the explanations offered for controlling behavior — explanations that reframe control as care, correction, or necessity. In high-control religion, control is almost always justified spiritually: discipline is “for your own good,” surveillance is “accountability,” and punishment is “loving correction” or even God’s will.
This spoke addresses control over a person’s sexuality, gender expression, and roles within relationships and family. High-control religions frequently regulate sexuality and gender with particular intensity — defining rigid roles for men and women, treating women’s bodies as something to be modest, controlled, or protected as property, and pathologizing sexuality that doesn’t conform to approved norms.
This particular spoke often lands hardest on women. We explore this in more depth in our post on Religious Trauma Syndrome in women, including how purity culture and gendered control contribute to the cognitive, emotional, social, and cultural symptoms Marlene Winell identified.
Economic control involves restricting access to money or financial independence, often making it harder for a person to leave. In high-control religious contexts, this can look like mandatory tithing structured to create financial dependency, communal living arrangements that limit personal assets, or discouraging members — especially women — from financial independence or career development outside the group.
Coercion uses fear, threats, and punishment to maintain compliance. In high-control religious systems, this often takes a spiritual form that secular abuse doesn’t typically have access to: the threat isn’t just social or physical, it’s eternal.
Coercion in this context frequently includes:
This is, in many ways, the most powerful spoke in religious contexts, because the consequences extend beyond this life. A person doesn’t just fear losing their community. They fear losing their eternal soul.
This fear-based enforcement often works hand-in-hand with assigned relational roles. In our post on the Drama Triangle in high-control religions, we explore how members are cast as Victim, Rescuer, or Persecutor to keep this exact kind of coercion running smoothly.
What makes the wheel such a useful diagram — rather than just a list — is the structure itself. Every spoke connects back to the same center: power and control. None of these tactics exist for their own sake. Shame isn’t about morality. Insulation isn’t about safety. Economic control isn’t about stewardship. Each one is a mechanism that returns power to the same place — the system, the leadership, the hierarchy — and keeps it there.
This is also why naming a single tactic rarely feels like enough for survivors. You can recognize that you were shamed, and still feel confused, because shame alone doesn’t explain the whole picture. It’s the combination — authority plus shame plus insulation plus coercion, operating together and reinforcing each other — that creates a system someone can spend years, or a lifetime, unable to leave.
This kind of control over thinking and information isn’t unique to this wheel — it’s one of the clearest overlaps with the BITE Model, which breaks down exactly how behavioral, informational, thought, and emotional control work together in high-control systems.
It can feel disloyal, even dangerous, to look at a community you loved — or still love — and recognize these patterns. Many survivors describe a strange grief in this moment: the realization that something that felt like home also functioned, structurally, like a system of control.
Both things can be true. You can have had real friendships, real moments of meaning, real love for people inside that system — and still recognize that the system itself relied on coercion, shame, and control to hold itself together. Naming this isn’t an attack on the people who loved you. It’s an honest look at the structure that shaped you both.
Healing from a high-control religious system means more than identifying which spokes applied to you. It means slowly rebuilding the things the wheel was designed to take: autonomy, a stable sense of self-worth not contingent on compliance, the ability to make decisions without fear of eternal consequence, financial and relational independence, and a body and sexuality that belong to you rather than to a doctrine.
This work is rarely fast, and it’s rarely linear. But it is possible — and you don’t have to map it out alone.
Stepping outside this wheel isn’t just about leaving a group — it’s about rebuilding a self that was never fully allowed to form. Our post on reclaiming your identity after a cult explores what that process looks like.
At Inner Compass Counseling & Consultation, we work with people untangling exactly this kind of system — helping them name what happened, grieve what it cost, and rebuild a life and identity that’s genuinely their own.
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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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