Leaving the Church, Finding Myself: A Journey of Queer Identity and Healing

There’s something both heartbreaking and liberating about stepping away from a community that once felt like home.

As a Queer woman who loved and eventually left the church, I know this journey intimately. It’s a path that many of us have walked—navigating the treacherous waters of faith, identity, and the all-too-common feeling of rejection.

The Weight of Harmful Teachings

Growing up in a religious environment, I absorbed the teachings like a sponge. I was taught that love was central to our faith, yet, somehow, the messages surrounding it seemed heavy with stipulations. The narratives of love and acceptance morphed into rigid doctrines that left little room for someone like me. Instead of feeling embraced, I felt confined by a set of beliefs that insisted on a singular way of being.

I learned to wear my shame like a cloak, draping it over my shoulders every time I stepped into a church. It whispered lies to me: I was broken, I was an abomination, I was unworthy of love—not just from others, but from God, too.

The Pain, Betrayal & Rejection

The betrayal cut deep, especially when those I considered friends suddenly became strangers. The moment I dared to reveal my true self, the warmth of their embrace turned to cold silence. I remember standing in the middle of a gathering, the air thick with tension, as I shared my truth. Friends who once laughed and celebrated with me now looked away, their smiles fading as if my existence challenged the very foundations of their beliefs. It was in those moments that I truly felt the sting of rejection, a painful reminder that love can sometimes come with strings attached.

That experience resonates with so many in the LGBTQIA+ community who have grown up in similar environments. We often find ourselves in the painful position of questioning our worth and whether we’ll ever be accepted for who we are. The feeling of being cast aside is a heavy burden, one that can linger long after the initial rejection. It’s easy to internalize those experiences, allowing the voices of the past to dictate our sense of self.

Discovering Myself

But amidst the pain, a flicker of hope began to emerge. It was the quiet voice of my authentic self, yearning to be heard, to be free. I started to question everything I had been taught. Leaving the church wasn’t just an act of rebellion; it was a declaration of love—for myself. It meant shedding the layers of shame, dismantling the walls I had built around my heart, and stepping into the light of authenticity, even when the path ahead felt daunting.

The journey toward authenticity wasn’t easy. There were nights when I lay awake, wrestling with guilt and doubt. I missed the sense of belonging that came from being part of a community. There were moments of deep sorrow, of mourning the friendships that had shifted so drastically, and of grappling with the ingrained beliefs that still haunted me. Yet, with each step away from the shadows of my past, I began to find pieces of myself I never knew existed. I discovered the joy of expressing my truth without fear, the exhilaration of love that didn’t come with conditions or caveats.

The Healing Power of Community

The healing came gradually. I began to surround myself with people who accepted me for who I am—who celebrated my queerness and all the vibrancy that came with it. I found new friends who had also walked away from oppressive ideologies and who understood the struggles and triumphs of finding one's authentic self. Together, we created spaces where laughter and love flowed freely, where conversations about faith and identity no longer felt like a battlefield.

These new connections became lifelines. They offered support during moments of doubt and joy during times of celebration.

I realised that community could exist outside the walls of the church, where acceptance wasn’t contingent on adherence to outdated beliefs. This isn’t just my story; it’s the story of countless others. Many of us have weathered storms of rejection and betrayal, but we’ve also learned to rise from the ashes, embracing our identities with pride.

There’s a profound joy in authenticity—even in the face of adversity.

Ongoing Reflection

Now, when I reflect on my experience, I see how far I’ve come. I no longer allow the voices of the past to dictate my worth.

Instead, I celebrate the path I have walked (or crawled)—every tear shed, every triumph achieved, and every moment of pure joy experienced. The laughter that fills my days now carries a depth I never thought possible. I’ve learned to love fiercely and authentically, both myself and those who are brave enough to walk this path alongside me.

To anyone reading this who may be feeling the weight of shame or rejection, know that you are not alone. Your journey might be filled with challenges, but on the other side lies the beautiful, authentic you waiting to shine.

Embrace the pain, lean into the discomfort, and allow yourself to come into the fullness of who you are. You deserve that joy.

Your story matters, your identity is valid, and the world needs your unique light.