A Sanctuary for Trauma Healing, Not a Spotlight on Me
What brought me here is not why I am here.
Yes, it was trauma—religious trauma, emotional trauma, and the collapse of everything I thought was true—that pushed me into the healing process. My story includes an emotional breakdown in 2018, a faith crisis the following year, and the slow, agonizing unraveling of a belief system I had committed to for more than 25 years. Those experiences shook me awake. They forced me to confront the gap between what I believed and what I truly knew in my soul.
But make no mistake: that is not why Nela’s Nest exists.
My personal story is simply the doorway. It is not the destination.
I share pieces of my journey—my years in the Middle East, my deconstruction process, the grief I carried, and the truths I uncovered—not to center myself, but to create connection. I offer my experience as a bridge so others don’t feel alone as they walk their own difficult path toward healing.
Because the real mission of Nela’s Nest is this:
🌿 To support the healing and recovery of those who carry childhood trauma, spiritual trauma, or both.
What I learned on my own journey is something I never expected: The religious and spiritual wounds I suffered did not begin with religion. They were rooted in my childhood.
Unmet needs. Silent pain. Confusion that had no language. A longing to belong. Fear of disappointing people who held power over me.
These early wounds laid the foundation for later spiritual trauma. They created vulnerabilities—openings—through which harmful teachings, rigid systems, and fear-based doctrines took hold.
When I finally began untangling my religious trauma, I found the deeper root beneath it. And that changed everything.
🌱 Healing, I discovered, is an inside-out process.
You cannot heal religious trauma without addressing the childhood patterns that allowed it to shape you. You cannot reclaim your spiritual life without understanding the emotional life that lived beneath it. You cannot build a new identity without honoring the parts of you that were silenced, ignored, or conditioned to accept harm.
Nela’s Nest was created to support you through this entire journey.
This is a space for:
asking questions without fear
understanding the connection between childhood wounds and spiritual patterns
learning how trauma shapes the way we believe, trust, love, and relate
rebuilding a sense of self rooted in truth, not fear
finding compassion for the parts of you that had to survive
I am here not as a guru, not as a religious authority, and not as the center of the story— but as a fellow traveler who learned how to climb out of a deep, dark place and now extends a hand to help others find their way too.
Welcome to the Nest. This is your sanctuary. This is your soft place to land. This is where healing begins.
Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS) refers to the lasting adverse effects on a person’s well-being caused by harmful religious experiences, beliefs, or practices. These often involve spiritual abuse, manipulation, or the use of fear, shame, and guilt to control behavior (EMDR Center of Denver; IntraSpectrum Counseling).
RTS is not unique to one religion. Survivors from Islamic sects, Christian cults like the Children of God, extreme Mormon groups, and even authoritarian evangelical circles describe remarkably similar patterns of harm. The language, clothing, and doctrines may differ, but the control, fear, and silencing are universal.
Here is where I stop apologizing. For years, I said “I’m sorry” too often. I do regret the pain my words may cause, but strongholds must be named before true spiritual freedom can be reached.
Harmful Religious Experiences
Common harmful practices across faith traditions include:
Being ordered to pray in prescribed ways.
Being ordered to fast, tithe, or perform rituals without choice.
Being ordered to wear particular clothing.
Being told to “be patient” or “submit” under harmful circumstances.
Feeling like religious expectations are unattainable.
Emphasis on collective identity over individuality.
Religious trauma occurs when a spiritual environment is stressful, degrading, dangerous, abusive, or damaging—whether to a person’s physical, emotional, mental, sexual, or spiritual health.
Gender and the Burden of Blame
In my Islamic experience, I often heard:
“I have not left anything more harmful and more detrimental on the men of this nation, than the women.” — attributed to Islamic tradition, agreed upon by scholars for centuries.
This mindset taught that women were the source of men’s downfall.
Christian cults echo the same idea through purity culture, modesty rules, and victim-blaming. In the Children of God, women were sexualized yet blamed for male temptation. In extreme LDS sects, girls were married off young under the belief that their worth was tied to obedience.
The message is the same: your gender makes you guilty before you even act.
Causes of Religious Trauma
1. Guilt and Shame In Islam, I wore a face veil at the mosque because I felt ashamed to be the only woman uncovered. In Christian cults, shame often revolved around “impure thoughts,” failing to evangelize enough, or questioning the pastor.
2. Strict Gender Roles In my world, men had authority, women had silence. In Mormon fundamentalist sects, women were groomed to be plural wives. In many evangelical churches, women are denied leadership roles with the phrase “God made men the head.”
3. Fear-Based Teaching I feared hell, curses, and punishment. Survivors of Christian cults describe the same fear—whether of eternal damnation, missing the rapture, or being “cast out of God’s covering.” Fear, not love, became the motivator.
4. Excommunication and Shunning In my community, “deviants” were cut off and so were those who associated with them. In Jehovah’s Witness congregations, families are instructed to shun those who leave. In extreme LDS groups, children are separated from parents who disobey leaders.
5. Repression of Critical Thinking In Islam, we were told: “When Allah and His messenger have decreed a thing, we have no choice in the matter.” In Christian groups, the mantra is: “Touch not God’s anointed.” Both silence questions.
6. Abuse of Authority Though I didn’t face physical or sexual abuse in Islam, I and numerous community members experienced deep emotional abuse in marriage. In other cults, survivors tell of sexual exploitation by leaders (Children of God) or financial control by authoritarian pastors.
Childhood Trauma Meets Toxic Religion
Why did I accept it? Because I was primed for it.
From ages 0–18, I moved between four households. My survival tools were freezing and fawning—doing whatever it took to be liked and accepted. Religious communities offered an illusion of safety, and so I stayed.
This is a common theme. Survivors of Christian and Mormon cults often describe being raised in instability, then finding false security in the structure of a controlling group.
Silencing Members
I was a teacher of Arabic and Quran, but as a Salafi woman, I had no authority. Speaking out would brand me “deviant.” And because of the repression of critical thinking, the word of ‘scholars’ was law, and we learned not to challenge.
Christian cult survivors describe the same silencing: women not allowed to preach, members forbidden from questioning “prophets,” and children raised to obey without hesitation.
Cult-Like Traits Across Faiths
No matter the label—Salafi, LDS, Jehovah’s Witness, evangelical cult, or Children of God—the traits are similar:
Extreme Beliefs – socially deviant teachings.
Isolation – separating from family, friends, or “outsiders.”
Control – regulating thought, emotion, and behavior.
Manipulation – guilt, shame, coercion.
Loyalty – unquestioning allegiance to leaders.
Symptoms of Religious Trauma
Some of the lingering effects include:
Compulsive perfectionism. In the Salafi community, women and girls stressed over the jilbab, face veils, nail polish, makeup and shoes that made no noise. In evangelical circles, children stress over “appearing holy” enough—memorizing verses, praying publicly, serving constantly.
Faith crisis and disillusionment. A faith crisis involves a period of significant doubt, questioning, and uncertainty about one’s beliefs. We saw many of our children experience this, but we labeled it as youthful rebellion.
Self-hatred, low self-worth, shame. Whether failing to pray perfectly or not evangelizing enough, no one could live up to the impossible standards.
Hypervigilance. Individuals are constantly scanning for potential threats, dangers, or signs of sin or disapproval within their religious environment.
Lack of boundaries. Some religious communities often invade personal lives—dictating marriage, finances, parenting, or even medical care.
I admit that sometimes I played the role of the “critical sister.” I believe that I did hurt others, and for that, I repent. Survivors of Christian cults share the same pain: once victims, sometimes perpetrators.
Moving Toward Healing
Healing begins with recognition. Religious trauma is real. It is not a sign of weakness or lack of faith.
Across faiths, survivors describe the same freedom: naming the harm, breaking the silence, and rediscovering that love—not fear—is the foundation of true spirituality.
Reflection Prompt
Have you ever felt controlled by fear, guilt, or shame in your religious experience? What would it look like to begin redefining faith through love instead of fear?
Finding Hope Beyond Religious Trauma
Religious trauma can leave deep scars, but it does not have to define the rest of your life. The fact that you are even reading this, questioning, or seeking clarity is proof of your strength.
Healing is possible. Survivors across faith traditions testify that life on the other side of fear is freer, lighter, and more authentic. Healing may look like:
Learning to trust your own voice again.
Building safe relationships and community.
Exploring faith or spirituality in a way that is rooted in love, not fear.
Releasing shame and perfectionism, step by step.
For me, the journey has been about unlearning fear and rediscovering a God of love. For others, it may be therapy, journaling, or simply giving themselves permission to rest from religion for a while. There is no single path, but there is one truth: you are not broken, and you are not alone.
Your worth has never depended on how perfectly you followed rules, but on the fact that you are deeply loved.
This is why I share my story—not to dwell on pain, but to remind anyone listening that freedom is possible. You can step out of fear and into love.
This morning, my daughter started her first real job. Not just a part-time gig or something casual—her first truly “adult” job. A sales position uptown where she said she could make as much money as she wants… kind of.
As a mom, I felt a wave of pride—and also a tug of nervousness. I know sales demands confidence. I also know how delicate that confidence can be, especially if it’s been undermined in subtle ways by the kind of parenting I once practiced. Parenting shaped by fear. By rules. By the pressure of a strict religious environment.
So I offered a small gesture of support: “Let me walk you to the bus station.”
It’s only a five-minute walk. But to me, it felt like a quiet chance to uplift her—and, if I’m honest, to gently undo some of the damage I may have caused over the years.
She agreed. I said, “We can walk and talk. I want to share something Solomon once said.”
She glanced at me sideways, suspicious.. “Mom… is this from the Bible?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “But you know Sulaiman,” I added in Arabic, hoping it might sound more familiar, more approachable. “He was a powerful prophet and king!”
We started walking. Well—she started walking. At nineteen, her legs are long and fast. Mine, not so much. I was falling behind, breathless.
She glanced back, called out, “Gotta go! There’s the bus!”
My shoulders drooped. I had missed my moment.
But just as she stepped onto the bus, she turned and shouted over her shoulder:
“Text me what Solomon said!”
Something about that moment felt like an opening. Not because I’m trying to change her—her spiritual journey will unfold in its own time when the season is right. But I want her to have full access to the richness of God’s Word and the spiritual abundance that’s already meant for her.
Soloman’s words?
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” (Proverbs 4:23)
A seed planted. A step toward healing. For both of us.
💬 Have you had a moment like this—where a small exchange held deep healing?
I’d love to hear from you. Drop a comment below, or share this post with someone who’s healing from faith, parenting, or spiritual wounds.
Let’s keep these conversations going—because healing grows stronger when it’s shared.
This weekend, I had a breakthrough—one that quietly unfolded over music, laughter, and the scent of homemade brunch.
My siblings and I spent Father’s Day weekend with our dad. We didn’t go out or make big plans. We stayed in, talked, cooked, played music, danced around the house, and watched movies. It was beautiful, intimate, and simple.
The next day, while sitting by the lake and reflecting on the weekend, something incredible happened.
I started praying for my father.
That might sound normal, even obvious, to some. But for me, it was a radical, healing moment. It was the first time I had ever done it. I prayed for his health. I prayed for the longevity of his life. I prayed with genuine love in my heart—and I was overcome. I wept tears of joy and gratitude.
Because for most of my adult life, I believed I wasn’t allowed to.
Undoing False Teaching: When Love Was Forbidden
I spent 27 years as a strict Salafi Muslim. For those unfamiliar, Salafism is a conservative and deeply literalist interpretation of Islam, closely aligned with the scholars of Saudi Arabia. One of its foundational principles is al-walaa wal-baraa—a doctrine that teaches loyalty and allegiance to fellow Muslims and disassociation or even hostility toward non-Muslims.
In practice, this means you’re taught to love and support those who follow your faith, and to emotionally distance yourself—or even hate—those who don’t.
Yes, including your parents.
Yes, including your Christian dad on Father’s Day.
As a young student, I memorized verses like these:
“O believers! Do not take Jews and Christians as allies. They are allies of one another…” (Qur’an 5:51)
“You will not find a people who believe in Allah and the Last Day loving those who oppose Allah and His Messenger, even if they were their fathers or sons or brothers…” (Qur’an 58:22)
“And the Jews will never be pleased with you, nor the Christians, until you follow their religion.” (Qur’an 2:120)
These verses were drilled into us in context that made their interpretation clear: love is reserved for believers. Anyone outside of Islam—especially Jews and Christians—are either your adversaries or your mission field.
When Hatred Was Framed as Holiness
As a student in Cairo, I remember eagerly listening to cassette tapes from popular Salafi scholars. One tape by Sheikh Muhammad …. was a fiery response to a controversial cartoon of the Prophet Muhammad. The title was chilling: “No—They Are the Pigs and Swine.” It referenced a Qur’anic story where a group of Jews were transformed into monkeys and pigs as punishment.
This kind of rhetoric was widespread in the circles I moved in. In Saudi Arabia, I studied under female students of well-known Salafi scholars like Sheikh U…. I remember clearly one study circle where we discussed how to treat non-Muslim relatives. I asked what felt like a very personal question:
“But what about our parents? Can we love them?”
The answer was unwavering: No.
You could show them kindness. You could be polite. But love? That was reserved only for the believers.
The only acceptable prayer for them was a plea for their conversion to Islam. Nothing else.
I remember one of my Arab friends asking me one time, “Your father’s not Muslim yet?” I said, “no,” feeling ashamed. “You are not making dua/praying for him.” she scolded me.
The Lie Unraveled
Today, I see things differently.
No longer do I believe in a God who commands me to suppress love, especially for the people who raised me, nurtured me, and celebrated me. My father is still a devout Christian. And I’m not praying for him to become something else. I’m praying for his heart, his peace, his strength, and his joy.
And I feel no shame in doing that.
In fact, I feel free.
A Message to My Former Self—and Others Like Me
To the younger version of me who thought loving her family meant betraying her faith—I’m so sorry. You deserved better theology.
To those who are still wrestling with fear and guilt because of the things you were taught in the name of God—keep wrestling. God can handle your questions.
And to my father—thank you. Thank you for being constant. Thank you for your love. Thank you for always seeing me, even when I was taught not to see you fully.
This Father’s Day, I didn’t just celebrate you. I reclaimed you.
This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24
Very simple, very profound.
To rejoice is to experience and express profound joy and happiness. It involves being deeply pleased and celebrating the good things in life. Rejoicing in the Lord involves acknowledging God’s grace and presence in your life, even in difficult times. There are many ways to express joy in the body and this has numerous health benefits. Though every religion has sacred days dedicated to celebration, expressions of joy need not be limited to one specific day.
Faith Meets Emotion: A Divine Pairing
The verse in Psalm 118:24 contains two truths: first, that God is the creator of each day (a statement of faith), and second, that we are invited to respond to that creation with joy (an emotional expression).
Coming from Islam to Christianity, this idea of being joyful is still new to me. In my previous religious practice, there was much concern about the legalities of doing the right things in the right way, at the right times. Awe and fear were most important feelings to have towards God and the worship of Him. However, to follow Christ is to embrace a love and grace-based faith where emotional expression—rejoicing—is not only allowed but encouraged.
When the last chains of my spiritual shame were broken…I cried…hard! I wept from a place inside me I didn’t know about. I wept in the crevices where there were spider webs on old pain and its lies. And after a good hard minute or 2 of weeping, something strange happened…I laughed. I laughed so hard, and I jumped! and I shouted! I shouted, “This is the best night ever!!!” Kind of corny but the truth. I rejoiced that my guilt and shame had truly been cast away! The lightness I felt is
Ultimately, spiritual and emotional health go hand in hand. Rejoicing is an emotional act, yes, but also a spiritual one. The more we celebrate God’s grace, the more we open ourselves to healing. This union of spirit and emotion is not new. It echoes across scriptures and sacred traditions. Psalm 98 invites creation itself—the rivers, the mountains—to rejoice. Joy, then, is not only human but cosmic.
Why rejoice?
The Sacred Power of Rejoicing on Emotional, Spiritual, and Physical Health
Someone might say, “Why should I rejoice when life is so bad?” The focus on negative aspects of life can begin a cycle of discontent. A person may cite a myriad reasons—ranging from economic instability to personal failures—that justify their unhappiness. This mindset not only diminishes one’s quality of life but also contradicts the biblical exhortation found in Philippians 4:4: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!” The call to rejoice serves as a reminder that emotional and spiritual health are interconnected; neglecting one invariably affects the other
Rejoicing in the Lord means finding joy and delight in God, not just in fleeting emotions, but in a deeper, more profound state of joy rooted in your relationship with Him and His love. It’s a choice to focus on God’s goodness and blessings, even when facing difficulties, and to trust in His promises and plan. Rejoicing strengthens your faith, offers hope and stabilitiy, and is a way to emulate Jesus.
Joy has been scientifically linked to numerous health benefits, impacting both physical and mental well-being. It can lead to improved cardiovascular health, reduced stress, and even a strengthened immune system. Moreover, experiencing joy can enhance mental resilience and improve sleep quality. Joy enhances mental well-being, improves memory, and increases creativity.
What does rejoicing look like?
Rejoicing in Practice: Tools for Embodied Joy
Rejoicing is not always spontaneous. Sometimes, it must be practiced, cultivated, even scheduled. I want to provide a simple and profound toolkit for doing just that: These practices are not tied to one religion—they are universal expressions of humanity. I would challenge readers of all faiths (or none) to ask themselves: What does rejoicing look like for you? What makes you want to rejoice? Laugh? But right now, let’s just rejoice. I would love for you to rejoice with me! How are we going to rejoice?
We’re going to shout! – Releasing vocal energy frees the nervous system and stirs confidence.
We’re going to dance, jump, and stomp! – Moving to rhythm creates joy in the body and connects people to cultural roots.
We’re going to laugh until we cry!
We’re going to sing songs of Victory! Music lifts the soul, whether it’s gospel, African spirituals, or a handpan melody.
We’re going to clap – applauding the goodness of God
We’re going to raise our arms and hands to the heavens – viscerally surrendering our will to the Almighty and opening up a divine portal,k ready to receive
Psalm 98:8 says: “Let the rivers clap their hands, Let the mountains sing together for joy.”
”Oh clap your hands, all ye peoples; Shout unto God with the voice of triumph. Psalms 47:1
Journal Entry
Have a journal, 2 good pens, a highlighter. and a Bible; whether digital or in text. These are the tools that you need.
Focus on God’s grace: Acknowledge His presence in your life and His unwavering love.
Pray and meditate: Engage in prayer to strengthen your faith and find peace in God’s love.
Find joy in service: Help others and give back to your community, finding joy in making a difference.
Journal with Intention – Writing down blessings, thoughts, or prayers makes internal joy visible.
Meditate on Scripture – Let verses like Psalm 47:1 and Psalm 98:8 shape the language of praise: “Oh clap your hands, all ye peoples… Let the rivers clap their hands.”
What does rejoicing look or sound like for you? When was the last time you allowed yourself to fully rejoice, no matter your circumstances?
Share you thoughts, reflections, or discoveries by email or in the comments.
I want to acknowledge that my recent interview has been both shocking and deeply painful for many Muslims who knew me. I’ve heard your feedback, and I want you to know that I receive it with humility.
What I shared came from a place of deep personal struggle—a crisis of faith that was agonizing and transformative. It’s an excruciating grief I would not wish on anyone. The joy I expressed was not aimed at mocking Muslims, but at celebrating the freedom I’ve found after years of spiritual confusion. Only a few months ago, I could not have spoken about these things without bitter tears.
I wish I could have spared you the hurt of hearing the news. But you should know that my faith transition has happened over the course of 3 years. and no one is more shocked about it than me. I did not ask for this or plan it. I’m still fascinated and astonished at this whole spiritual journey myself.
Though I consistently participate in healing work, I will own that there are areas of my spirit where I am still releasing anger and disillusionment. There may be moments when these residual emotions leak out, masked by sarcasm.
And I take full accountability for what I say and how I say it.
I understand that Muslims are listening, and intend to be mindful of how I speak moving forward.
This is my story—my truth. My goal is never to cause harm, but to bear witness to the journey God is guiding me through.
My platform, Nela’s Nest, is a space carefully created for women of all faiths. This is not meant to be a forum for argument or hostile debate though thoughtful and healthy discourse is welcome. Our ultimate mission is clear: to assist women in the deep and sacred work of healing and recovery from emotional and spiritual trauma.
The topic; Perspectives on Islam is only a pretense for my platform — the gateway into my own journey of healing. It was through this deeply personal process of examining Islam, allowing myself to ask questions and face my doubts, that my eyes were opened.
I will share what God has revealed to me through His Living Word — about Islam and the Abrahamic faiths more broadly. Once all questions, doubts, and insights have found their voice — we will move into a powerful spiritual transition: rebuking falsehood and replacing it with truth.
After this foundational work is complete, we can then fully engage with the heart of this platform: Healing and Recovery from Trauma — A Wise Woman’s Toolbox.
Thank you to everyone who has reached out, challenged me, or simply listened.
Nela's Nest 