I can still vividly remember the first time I witnessed what I now call a “kaboom” in the post-religious community. It was shortly after the 2016 presidential election when individuals who were coming out of religious spaces were confused and trying to make sense of what had just happened; Twitter was a place of connection, solidarity, and relief. That may sound odd to say, but for so many people who believed they were isolated in their harmful religious experiences, having an online space where others were speaking up and sharing about their process was a welcome relief. 

Despite having begun deconstructing my own faith over a decade prior to that, I found these online spaces to be a sort of ‘missing piece’ that I had longed for. To find others who understood what I had experienced and trade stories, tears, and hope was a welcome relief. 

And then problems started to arise–namely due to certain individuals jostling for leader-type positions within the Exvangelical community. Conflict happened on a public platform, accusations were made, people’s private lives were shared, character’s questioned, and divisions formed of “who’s side are you on”. This was all, of course, done in the name of “protecting” people who had been deeply harmed from religion and not wanting to create a similarly oppressive chain of command that we had all just left.

I remember sitting at a cocktail lounge for happy hour during that time with one of the people being accused; their distress was palatable and they feared that the accusations that were lodged against them were true, despite having sought the counsel of many who assured them they were, indeed, not true. Years later this same individual would go on to be the accuser toward several other people, inflicting the same distress and demands and shrill indictments against others. Yet again, lines were drawn, statements were publicly made that if individuals didn’t say/do/believe specific things they were not safe, not deconstructed, and needed to be warned against. 

When these things happen, I am approached by many concerned individuals who ask the question “why does this keep happening?” They acknowledge how stressful it is to observe others’ behaviors and how much it feels like they are back in their churches all over again. I assure them that their observation is astute–it is just like a high control religious system. 

The thing is: when we only merely cognitively deconstruct fundamentalism but do not resolve how fundamentalism lives in our bodies, we will recreate fundamentalist systems with a different set of beliefs. 

Though I do believe that there are usually multiple, complex reasons for why something happens, including “kabooms” in the post-religious spaces, as a trauma specialist, I look at things through the lens of the nervous system. This means that when I seek to understand human behavior–individually or collectively–I use this as a framework. This often gives me much clarity and even empathy and allows me to proceed in a different way. 

I believe that fundamentalism is a coping mechanism for a dysregulated nervous system. 

What I mean is that high control religions (HCRs) and other fundamentalist systems use rules around thinking, relating, and acting as a way to give people a sense of peace and calm in the midst of distress. Instead of teaching people to connect to themselves and developing internal resources, HCR encourages people to divorce themselves from their body and rely only on external structures and resources to find peace. 

For my part, this often looked like developing a list of things I needed to do to be more Godly when I felt guilt. When I was confused or anxious about plans, I would look to others around me to tell me what to do and assumed that if I had an inclination of what I should choose, it likely meant the opposite was true since it had been ingrained in me that I couldn’t trust myself. 

Though my body was trying to tell me messages about what was going on around me, I only knew how to follow the rules I had been prescribed in hopes that after completing the tasks I would feel better. 

Therefore, my fundamentalist ways were the only coping mechanism I had when I was anxious, scared, overwhelmed, feeling endangered, confused, or experiencing any other sensation that came up in my body. 

Many people believe that cognitively deconstructing from religion equates to healing from religious trauma. While cognitive deconstruction can be an important part of recovering from religion, these two things are not the same. In fact, when we only cognitively deconstruct from religion, but do not resolve the religious trauma living in our bodies, we are prone to re-creating fundamentalist lifestyles even though we are “preaching” a different message. 

If fundamentalism is a pattern of thinking, relating, and acting, religion is not required to be a part of this in order for fundamentalism to occur. 

And, when we are dependent on external environments, resources, and rules to follow in order to feel calm, it can feel wildly dangerous when we leave all of those rules behind and then have…nothing…to help us navigate the stuff of life. Despite knowing that we don’t want the religious rules we were used to guiding our lives, if no other (internal) resources are available to us, rules become quite appealing. 

And this is why we are so prone to creating fundamentalist spaces, even after we leave religion. 

One of the principles that religiously fundamentalist spaces hinges on is that “I am right and you are wrong”. We insulate ourselves with people and community that share the same beliefs, live the way we do, and engage with others similarly because those that do not follow this regime are thought to be dangerous and unsafe. This is part of how fundamentalism is accepted: we are taught that the things we believe and live are the right way and will get us a reward. In religious spaces, this is often the reward of heaven or being seen as a true believer here on earth. 

In non-religious spaces, however, engaging in fundamentalism gives us the reward of being a TRUE ally, progressive, the opposite of how we were raised, a thought-leader, a guru…and an illusion of certainty that we can measure ourselves and others against to see how well we are doing. Having no internal resources, even outside of religion, means that new rules, ways of thinking and relating need to be developed in order to feel a sense of peace and okayness in the world. 

On top of this, those who are coming out of HCRs are used to following a leader; in fact, following a leader may even seem appealing. Never having been taught how to critically think (or in some cases, think for yourself), identifying people that know more, have been out longer, have a louder voice, a bigger following, are more charismatic, or who seem to have their lives together the most can be appealing. But in this case, we are once again dependent on external resources to determine both how to live and how to find peace.

All of this collectively sets us up to remain divorced from ourselves, find a new “pastor”, and follow rules that others prescribe for us–all in an effort to gain a sense of peace and certainty…to help us stay regulated. In this, we continue to use fundamentalism as a coping mechanism. 

This means that on a social media platform, for example, when someone does something that we don’t like or disagree with, we are prone to becoming activated. At this point we usually engage with one of two options (sometimes both): we look to our new “pastors” to tell us the position we should take and then mirror their behaviors, words, and sentiments OR we engage in our fight response (think: fight, flight, freeze, fawn) and take on those we disagree with. This fight response doesn’t look like respectful dialogue in which both “sides” have the opportunity to hear and be heard. Instead it is often laced with judgment, criticism, and a “let me tell you why I am right and you are wrong” sentiment. Of course, in many cases, the person on the receiving end of that rhetoric often responds with a similar sentiment and it’s a downhill battle from there. 

Often the people who are doing this are not enjoying the fight. Observing these situations from afar has told me that many of these people indicate their own activation and feelings of unsafety in the midst of these circumstances. They are engaging in this way because they are so activated (again: fight, flight, freeze, fawn) that they feel compelled to defend themselves or their position as a way to survive. Sure, they might say it is in the name of social justice, being an ally, or wanting to ensure that people are not harmed, but in the quiet moments of honest reflection, these things are secondary. What is top priority is being able to do and say all the right things, according to their fundamentalist rules (or the fundamentalist rules of the new “pastor” they follow) so that they can not only obtain a sense of peace, calm, and safety, but also can decrease the risk of being ostracized, disconnected from, or rejected.

There are many reasons I believe understanding our nervous system, getting acquainted with it, and building internal resources to help regulate it are helpful–this is just one. Yet, I find this to be extremely helpful, even necessary, for those coming out of HCRs as the propensity to be pulled into a new fundamentalism–yours or someone else’s–is high. And when that happens, so do kabooms. 

This month I am talking about the nervous system, internal safety, and how to develop internal resources across all of my platforms and social media. If you’re interested in learning more, you can follow me on Instagram, sign up for my FREE newsletter, or join my membership space!