New Me, New Us?: Navigating Relationships with Religious Family Members
Written by CTRR Practitioner Nicole Clifton
To learn more about working with Nicole, click here.
For many who grew up inside a religious family, there can be both spoken and unspoken pressures about the need to maintain the same worldview as the family. Many grew up hearing criticisms of the “secular” world and any mix of pity, fear, and judgment toward those who “have fallen down the slippery slope,” “lost their way,” or any other phrase used in reference to someone who no longer follows the same religious convictions they may have previously aligned with.
It can be incredibly confusing and painful on both sides, though the person who has deconstructed their worldview likely has more “skin in the game” and therefore has more to lose. It can be incredibly painful to lose those spaces of commonality, connection, and perceived safety within familial relationships. When religion has told you that your faith is the most important part of your identity, then people who have deconstructed often receive feedback from their families like “I don’t know who you are anymore” because they may lack experience in relating to and connecting with someone’s humanity and inherent dignity outside of shared religious convictions.
When high-control religion is woven into a large majority or all of someone’s relationships, activities, and conversations, there is often a struggle to know how to engage with and spend time with one another. The person who is deconstructing may be the recipient of their family’s fear, confusion, panic, anger, judgment or even disgust.
Unfortunately, there is no one-size-fits-all approach to navigating family relationships during and after faith deconstruction. The responses and outcomes vary greatly, and much of that is out of the control of the person who has deconstructed. Realities can vary from continued support and acceptance (and perhaps even a shifting/growing/healing dynamic for others in the family unit), all the way to utter rejection and loss of relationship entirely. Many navigate the murky waters somewhere in between, having to find what feels 'safe enough' and learning to set boundaries where necessary, while tolerating the discomfort that can come with setting them, as they try to preserve what can be and remake what can no longer remain.
It is important to remember that while change can be challenging, especially when it comes to how we connect to and relate with someone we previously had common ground with, it can be done and may even change that relationship for the better! While there are so many facets to processing how to move forward with one’s family, what boundaries to set, how to know what “safe enough” means, what qualities help make someone trustworthy, how do we deliver feedback more effectively, etc., I often pose this concept to my clients concerning what conversations to have/not to have with family members:
When we are considering feedback, conversations often fall in 1 of 3 buckets.
Bucket #1 is where feedback can be delivered and there is hope for change. Perhaps a lot will change, perhaps only marginal or slow improvements may come about, but there is a decent chance that something could be achieved with transparency and therefore the conversation is worth having. It may still be messy and vulnerable. The progress may not be linear; it may take time to adjust to a “new normal,” but it’s worth it to try.
Bucket #2 is when feedback is necessary for the person delivering it, even if the person receiving it is unlikely to change. It may be ignored, denied, minimized, challenged, etc. However, for the person who is/has deconstructed and is needing to show up authentically, they believe that the words need to be communicated for their own peace, for the sake of proactive communication that aligns with their own values, or even as a part of their own grieving process, so they can move forward (even if they must do so without the support and understanding of their family).
Bucket #3 is when providing feedback or engaging in conversation will not benefit either party; the information shared will not be well-received by the family or spur any positive change, and speaking it out loud doesn’t bring peace or resolution to the person who has deconstructed. There may be a lack of emotional or even physical safety, which means there is not a “safe enough” space to bring transparency, authenticity, and vulnerability in a way that wouldn’t be used against them. These are situations where boundaries may need to be communicated without getting into the weeds about why they are necessary. And for those things that cannot change or improve, it is okay and even necessary to grieve what has been lost and what has been hoped for. As grief is processed, the hope is that other safe relationships and spaces can be found and that the person who has deconstructed is able to share with those safe people when they are ready.
Navigating these dynamics can feel overwhelming, scary, and lonely. Humans need one another and feeling alienated from family members can be particularly painful.
Ultimately know that you are not alone in the messiness of it all and there are so many of us out here trying to figure it out too.
On behalf of the team here at CTRR, we would love to be a resource and support to you as you process, heal, and move forward—however that might look for you.
Nicole Clifton, MA is an associate practitioner at CTRR. She supports individuals navigating faith deconstruction, healing from purity culture, LGBTQIA+, religious trauma and adverse religious experiences, life transitions, boundaries work, identity, chronic illness/ableism, and body image.
Instagram: @nicoleclifton_inyourcorner
Facebook: Nicole Clifton
To learn more about working with Nicole, click here.
