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- When I left the church, I felt dead. Not my body. My soul.
When I left the church, I felt dead. Not my body. My soul.
No one warned me that grief would feel like exile. Or that silence would be the first betrayal.
Debby Meadows
May 26, 2025
Quote of the day:
“Sometimes you have to leave the life you were taught to love…
to find the authentic life that actually loves you back.”
When I left the church, it didn’t feel like freedom.
It felt like death.
Not the kind of death people talk about.
Not the kind with black clothes, plenty of casseroles, and a memorial.
It was a death that came in silence.
Because in that space, where I thought love was unconditional - no one called. No one asked.
I suddenly disappeared—and they let me.
These were same people that I had laughed until I cried with.
The same people I had raised children with, ate dinners at each other’s houses, people I had traveled with, taught children’s ministry with - sang with, harmonized with - and then…a void.
I used to be seen.
Front row. Leading songs. Hosting Bible studies. Doing ALLL the things.
"Spirit-filled," they called me.
But when I stopped showing up?
No one noticed I was grieving. I don’t think they even noticed I was gone.
Because they weren’t grieving me.
Hear me closely: This isn’t meant to be a pity party in any sense. It’s simply my story.
And if you know my exit story, you know that I didn’t ‘just’ leave.
Nope. I was given an ultimatum, and when I chose what “I” knew to be truth (following my intuition), I was non-ceremoniously told that I ‘didn’t hear God’, I was required to turn in my keys, and then the door was shut and locked right in front of my face. Literally.
I remember sliding down the door, after the pastor’s wife had locked it and walked away. And as sat on the concrete, sobbing… I felt utterly and totally alone.
I was a single Mom, and I had invested my all into the church since I was a small girl. I raised my own three daughters in the church, and religion was as big a part of their world as it had been in mine. In fact, my oldest daughter was away at Bible College, pursuing a degree in ministry. To say we were ‘all in’ was an understatement.
I could have just gone to another church - but this event cracked me wide open. And it had been coming for a long time.
I remember lying in bed that first Sunday,
watching the clock hit 10:00 —praise and worship practice time—
feeling this heavy ache in my chest,
like I was doing something wrong by not being there.
And maybe worse?
I couldn’t even tell if the ache was grief...
or guilt.
Because the programming doesn’t unravel overnight.
You don’t just delete decades of doctrine with one bold decision.
It would take years for me to even realize there WAS something called religious programming and conditioning.
And I had to face the biggest secret question that haunted me:
"What if I’m wrong? What if I really am going to Hell?"
No one talks about that part.
No one tells you that healing will feel like betrayal.
That silence will sound like punishment.
That your body will hold the weight of abandonment by an entire system that once claimed to love you.
But here’s what I’ve learned since:
The grief means you’re still alive.
The intense ache means you’re still becoming.
And your voice—the one they thought they silenced?
She is still holy. She is loved without measure. And she is rising.
🎨 Visual Oracle: Art as Reflection
Create a line drawing of your “vanished” self.
No details, just shape.
Where does she fold in?
Where does she shrink?
Where is the light dimmed?
Now draw a second version beside her—just lines again.
Give her breath. Space. A flame.
What changed?
You’re not erasing her.
You’re reclaiming her.
Art by U.Mendez
Paintings aren’t just art—they’re mirrors and portals. Your inner knowing will reveal things to you in your art when you give it attention and intention!
🔥 3 Ways to Hold Yourself After Leaving the Church
✦ Call your grief what it is: Real and very normal.
Leaving a religious system is not just a decision—it’s a death.
You didn’t “walk away”—you buried a version of yourself that was shaped by fear.
Let yourself grieve the loss of the community, the identity, the rhythm—even if it was harmful.
Grief is not regression. It’s honoring yourself and what you’ve been through. .
✦ Rewrite the voice in your head.
When the old scripts start up—
“Maybe I’m backsliding.”
“Maybe I’m just bitter.”
“Maybe I’m broken…”
Pause. Breathe. And say: “No—I’m becoming.”
You don’t owe anyone a performance.
And you definitely don’t owe the past a return.
✦ Find someone who says, “Me too.”
You were never meant to do this part alone, although you might feel very alone.
The isolation is what kept you quiet for so long.
Let this be your soft landing: I see you. I know this ache. And there is nothing wrong with you.
Your voice still matters.
Your story still matters.
You still matter.
⚡ 60-Second Energy Reset: “The Hollow Heart Sweep”
(Inspired by Donna Eden-style energy balancing + trauma-informed somatics)
This practice helps move grief out of the chest and restore breath to the heart space.
How to Perform:
Place one hand over your heart. The other on your belly.
Close your eyes and inhale through your nose—imagine filling your entire ribcage with breath.
Exhale with a soft “haaaa,” releasing from the base of your lungs.
Immediately sweep your top hand gently across your chest, from left to right.
Whisper aloud:
Repeat 3 times, slowly.
Why it works:
Clears the energetic “collapse” often felt in religious trauma
Restores a sense of presence in the chest and solar plexus
Anchors new truth into the heart-body connection
A Sacred Offering
If you saw a glimmer of yourself in this newsletter… Unchurching the Soul was made for you.
It’s not just a book. It’s a course in disguise—a guide through the shadows of conditioning and into your own authentic truth. If you’re in the thick of the unraveling that happens when you leave religion, this is for you.
From now till 5/30, enter code SPEAKS at checkout for 50% off!
You are not “too much.” You are remembering who you authentically are - before obedience was your only option.
Memes that Preach (better than a pulpit!):
P.S. Love note
You weren’t wrong for leaving.
You were brave.
And no, you’re not going to Hell.
You’re walking yourself back to wholeness.
The silence wasn’t proof that you failed—
It was proof that the system could only love you if you conformed.
And you, my dear sister,
were never created to be small.
Did something resonate today? Tell me.
I read every single reply, because your voice matters to me!
So don’t stay silent. I’m listening! Keep choosing yourself. Again and again. I’ll be here, cheering you on!
