Reclaiming (or Not) Easter: Resurrection, But Make It About You
For years, Easter came with a tight stomach and a list of things I didn’t know how to feel. It was supposed to be a celebration, but it often felt like a reminder of how much of myself I had to let go of in order to belong.
Being in a religious environment, Easter was framed as this massive, holy moment where Jesus died a horrible death and came back to life, all because I was sinful. I was told to be grateful, to reflect, to worship. But under all that was a quieter message: that dying to yourself was good. That being small and humble and self-sacrificing made you holy. That letting go of your desires, your voice, even your joy sometimes, was what God wanted.
So, I got really good at shrinking. At leaving parts of myself behind.
And now, years later—after unravelling from all that—I’m still working out what to do with Easter.
Some years I ignore it completely. Some years I feel angry. Other years, like this one, I find myself wondering:
Is there anything here I can reclaim? Anything that might still feel meaningful, even after everything I’ve let go of?
This blog is for anyone else asking the same thing.
Why Easter Feels Complicated Now
If you’ve walked away from church, religion, or a particular faith system, Easter can feel like a landmine. It’s everywhere—hot cross buns in every supermarket, pastel decorations, sermons being live-streamed on social media. And for those of us with religious trauma or big complicated feelings about our past, this time of year can stir up a lot.
Maybe you relate to some of these:
Feeling like you should do something spiritual or reflective this weekend, but not really wanting to.
Not knowing how to explain to family or friends why you’re not going to church anymore.
Feeling sad or nostalgic for the community or ritual that once existed, even if it was harmful.
Feeling guilty for being angry or disinterested, like you’re letting someone down.
I want to say something clearly:
You’re allowed to feel however you feel about Easter.
There’s no “right” way to navigate this season. No test you need to pass to prove you’re healing properly. If this weekend is just a few public holidays for you now—great. If it’s stirring up something deeper—also great. There’s room for all of it.
Reframing Resurrection (Without the Guilt Trip)
One of the most loaded concepts in Easter is resurrection. That idea of something dying and coming back to life. In church, that story was wrapped up in sacrifice, atonement, and this belief that we were saved because someone else gave everything up.
And honestly, that story doesn’t sit well with me anymore. Especially not when I look back on how often I was encouraged to abandon myself “for God.”
But I also don’t want to throw the whole idea of resurrection in the bin. Because the truth is, I’ve been through my own kind of resurrection.
Not a dramatic, one-moment thing. But a slow, painful, ongoing process of letting go of who I was taught to be—and becoming more of who I really am.
For me, that looked like:
Leaving a community I thought would always be home.
Letting go of beliefs that no longer felt true.
Grieving the version of me that tried so hard to be what everyone wanted.
Slowly learning how to trust myself again.
That’s resurrection too.
Not shiny or miraculous. But honest. Real. Hard-won.
What If Resurrection Was About Coming Back to Yourself?
Here’s the question I’ve been sitting with lately:
What if resurrection isn’t about salvation or sacrifice, but about returning to yourself?
What if it’s not about suffering for someone else’s approval, but about:
Reclaiming your voice.
Saying no to things that harm you.
Allowing yourself to feel joy without guilt.
Getting curious about what you actually want from your life.
Remembering that you’re allowed to change your mind. To grow. To come alive again.
I don’t think you need to be religious to find something meaningful in this idea. Most of us go through cycles of death and rebirth in our lives—when things fall apart, when relationships end, when careers shift, when beliefs change. And in those seasons, we often leave pieces of ourselves behind just to survive.
But eventually, when we feel safe enough, something in us starts to rise again. We begin to ask: What else is possible for me now?
That’s resurrection, too.
A More Human, More Honest Kind of Resurrection
We’re not talking about a perfect, polished version of you coming back to life. This isn’t the glossy Instagram version of “transformation.” It’s messy. It’s slow. And it might include things like:
Saying, “Actually, I don’t believe that anymore.”
Unfollowing people who make you feel like you’re too much or not enough.
Crying over the things you lost and still wish you had.
Laughing more freely than you ever did before.
Letting people in again, even when it feels scary.
Choosing joy without needing it to be “deep” or spiritual.
This version of resurrection isn’t about proving anything.
It’s about showing up to your own life, exactly as you are.
If You Want to Mark the Moment (But Keep It Low-Key)
You don’t need to mark Easter in any special way if you don’t want to. But if you do feel like making space for reflection, here are a few low-pressure ideas:
1. Write a “Things I’m Reclaiming” list
It could include your voice, your boundaries, your rest, your sense of humour, your curiosity, your creativity—anything that once felt unsafe or off-limits.
2. Burn something (safely)
Old notes, journal entries, or even just a scrap of paper with a belief or identity that no longer fits. Let it go, symbolically.
3. Choose a “word for the season”
Not a goal. Not a resolution. Just a gentle theme that helps you stay grounded in your values—like freedom, gentleness, clarity, or joy.
4. Create your own mini ritual
Light a candle. Go for a walk. Make a meal that feels comforting. You don’t need anyone else’s script—you get to write your own.
5. Talk to someone who gets it
Maybe a friend, a therapist, or someone who’s been through something similar. Let yourself be witnessed in your process.
You Don’t Owe Easter Anything
At the end of the day, you don’t need to reclaim Easter unless you want to. It’s okay to opt out. It’s okay to just enjoy the long weekend. It’s okay to still feel angry or tender or confused about it all.
But if something in you is stirring—if you feel like you’re slowly coming back to life after a hard season—then I want you to know:
That’s resurrection.
Not the kind someone else demanded from you.
But the kind you chose for yourself.
If this season feels tender or confusing, you’re not alone. And if it feels like something in you is waking up again—however quietly—I hope you give it space.
Reach out to someone if you want/need support or connect with us over on Instagram.
