As I sat in the small cozy room in the corner of their office space. Natural lighting streaming in, warming the room, I was grateful I had taken the uncertain step of seeking therapy. A scent wafted into the room, I couldn’t quite place it but it brought a sense of peace. The intentionality taken in all aspects of the experience gave me added confidence that this is where I was supposed to be.
My therapist walked in and greeted me, we started with simple small talk. I wasn’t sure how this would work, I was naturally a bit reserved and struggled to trust new people. The Lord was good though and right away I felt my barriers come down and I just knew; I could trust her and she could help me.
The number of sessions and the combined work between them blur together but what I know with certainty is we dug into the hard conversations and quickly. We discussed the issue of the church, the things I hadn’t been able to talk to anyone else about, the same things that raced through my mind on a Sunday morning as I desperately wanted to skip service.
She listened as I outlined several situations that didn’t sit well with me, that I was struggling with, that I wanted to feel different about but no amount of prayer was changing the unsettled feelings and frustration. I appreciated her approach, she didn’t give me an answer to if I should stay or go, but rather helped me understand why I was wrestling so much. With those details I was able to better clear my mind and see where the Lord was leading.
We were several months into therapy. I sat on that cozy couch and blurted out, I’ve decided to leave. Instantly I felt my body release so much tension and stress that I didn’t even know I was holding onto.
I was met with compassionate eyes, probably knowing from the start this was the best answer but also always allowing space for the Lord to change things – whether that was me or the situation.
And He did change things – He changed me, He gave me the ability in that moment to stand up for what I believed, and walk away from a ministry and community I had spent years pouring into.
Turns out telling my therapist was the easy part; after sharing with her I had to talk with my parents and several close friends.
My parents were so understanding, which I knew they would be, but my leaving also meant we didn’t attend church together anymore. We shed a few tears but also knew this was for the best.
Telling friends was hard in a different way, things were more complicated. I genuinely didn’t want to cause any issues in my leaving. I couldn’t tell them about everything, because some of the experiences weren’t mine to tell.
What I could tell them and what was genuinely true is that I felt very disconnected and lacked community. I would note there were other things I didn’t agree with but couldn’t speak about, that probably only ignited more questions, but it was honest.
I’m grateful that most everyone I told personally was compassionate and kind towards me and this decision. I’m even more grateful that all of the people I met with individually and shared this news with are still friends today. Leaving the church can cause strain and distance in friendships that isn’t always repaired, I am grateful for the friendship that I have maintained.
Funny enough several months after I left I heard an assumed reason for my leaving, I left to find a husband. True that the church I left wasn’t bursting with single men, but equally as humours the church I would land at, while four times the size, also didn’t seem to have many single men. I can assure you I did not leave nor chose a church with the aim or hope of meeting my future spouse. While certainly a valid reason, it was not mine.
Rue & Oak 