I grew up going to a Southern Baptist church 3 days a week. I was committed, prayerful, and devoted to what I believed was a personal relationship with Christ. Yet there was a constant friction, because I also value equality and empathy, which often conflicted with the rigid teachings around me. This led to constant feelings of guilt and cognitive dissonance. One Sunday in my mid 20s , the dissonance dissipated and I found clarity. Despite my desperate prayers and the sobs heaving in my chest, I was met with total silence. This silence was not the peaceful kind, but the kind that reveals truth. I then realized that no divine rescue was ever coming, and I would have to be my own savior. That realization was the catalyst for not only leaving the church, but also leaving a seven year long abusive relationship. I began the painful, liberating journey of reclaiming my identity. My story now allows me to hold space for others who are facing religious trauma and spiritual deconstruction.