When Faith Is No Longer a Shelter: Processing Distressing News Without God as a Comfort
There are moments when the world feels suddenly more dangerous as many of us in Sydney and across Australia felt this week. Even if we are physically safe, our nervous systems don’t always know that. Fear, grief, anger, sadness, and disbelief can rush in all at once.
For many people, faith once offered somewhere to place those feelings. Prayer, scripture, ritual, the sense of a benevolent order holding everything together. A way to say, This is awful, but I am not alone in it.
When faith is no longer available or no longer feels safe, that loss can make distressing news feel harder and more destabilising. Not only are we responding to what has happened in the world, we are also grieving the absence of something that once steadied us. The question becomes: Where do I put all of this now?
If you have stepped away from religion because it caused harm, control, shame, or fear, returning to those practices is often not an option. And yet the needs they once met for comfort, meaning, reassurance, and connection, do not disappear.
This is an invitation to explore how to meet those needs in different ways, especially when fear and overwhelm rise in response to distressing events.
Why Distressing News Hits the Body First
When something frightening or tragic happens around us, especially close to home, our bodies often react before our minds catch up. The nervous system is constantly scanning for danger. It does not require direct personal threat to activate; proximity, identification, and imagination are enough.
You might notice:
A tight chest or shallow breath
Nausea or heaviness in the stomach
Restlessness, pacing, or the urge to “do something”
Teary-ness, numbness, or sudden exhaustion
Difficulty concentrating or sleeping
These are signs that your body’s alert system is doing its job, trying to protect you by preparing for danger.
In religious environments, these sensations were often interpreted spiritually: as a call to prayer, repentance, surrender, or trust in God’s plan. When you no longer frame the world that way, the sensations themselves remain, but the old meaning-making structures are gone.
This can leave us feeling unmoored. The fear is there, but the familiar language for soothing it is not.
Naming What You’re Feeling Without Spiritual Bypassing
One of the most grounding things you can do when overwhelmed is to name what is actually present.
Not what you should feel.
Not what you wish you felt.
But what is here now.
Sadness. Anger. Fear. Compassion. Shock. Grief. Helplessness. Rage. Disbelief.
You might notice more than one feeling at once. You might notice feelings layered on top of each other; grief for strangers mixed with old griefs, fear mixed with memories, compassion mixed with anger at systems or institutions.
Naming feelings helps bring them out of the swirl and into something more manageable. It signals to the nervous system that someone is paying attention.
If you come from a background where certain emotions were discouraged or moralised; anger labelled sinful, fear labelled lack of faith; this step can feel surprisingly radical. Simply saying, “This is really scary,” or “I feel so sad and angry,” without trying to fix it can be an act of self-trust.
Nurturing Feelings Instead of Correcting Them
Many faith traditions emphasise emotional correction: replacing fear with trust, anger with forgiveness, grief with hope. When those frameworks are gone, people are sometimes left with the belief that strong feelings are dangerous or unmanageable.
In reality, emotions need care, not control.
Nurturing your feelings might look like:
Letting yourself cry without explanation
Donating or offering practical support if that feels grounding
Moving your body - stomping, stretching, shaking, walking
Placing a hand on your chest or belly and speaking gently to yourself
Saying out loud, “I am safe in this moment.”
There are ways of communicating safety to a nervous system that is on high alert.
You do not need to justify your reactions by proximity or logic. Collective grief often feels personal because it touches something universal: our shared vulnerability, our care for one another, our awareness that life can change suddenly.
Staying in the Present When the Mind Wants to Spiral
Distressing news can pull us into the future: What if this happens again? What if it happens to someone I love? What if nowhere is safe?
While these thoughts are understandable, they keep the nervous system activated. Bringing attention back to the present moment helps interrupt that cycle.
Gentle grounding practices can help:
Name some items you can see in your immediate environment
Notice the weight of your body where you are sitting or standing
Feel your feet on the floor and the support beneath you
Describe your surroundings silently or out loud
Remind yourself: Right now, in this room, in this moment, I am safe.
This is what regulation looks like.
Limiting Exposure Without Disconnecting from Humanity
Many people feel torn between staying informed and protecting their mental health. Constant exposure to news and social media can keep the body in a state of ongoing alarm, especially when algorithms amplify fear, outrage, and graphic detail.
It is okay to:
Limit how often you check the news
Choose one or two trusted sources instead of endless scrolling
Step away from commentary that escalates drama or blame
Take breaks without feeling guilty
Staying regulated does not mean you care less. It means you are recognising your limits.
Avoiding drama is not avoidance of reality, its knowing what your nervous system can hold.
Collective Grief Is Still Grief
When loss happens on a large scale, people sometimes minimise their reactions: I didn’t know anyone involved. I shouldn’t be this affected.
But grief is not only about personal connection. It is also about identification, empathy, and rupture. Collective grief reminds us of our shared humanity and shared fragility.
Grief is physical. It lives in the muscles, the breath, the gut, the heart.
Letting grief move through the body might include:
Walking slowly and deliberately
Swaying or rocking
Hugging yourself or a trusted person
Allowing fatigue instead of pushing through
You do not need a theology to grieve. You need space, permission, and care.
When Prayer Used to Be the Place You Put Everything
For many people leaving faith, one of the most painful losses is not belief itself, but the container belief provided. Prayer was a place to put fear. Ritual was a way to mark loss. God was imagined as someone who could hold unbearable things.
When that container disappears, the feelings can feel heavier because there is nowhere obvious to place them.
It may help to remember: prayer never worked instead of your body, it worked through it. The slowing of breath, the rhythm of words, the sense of being witnessed. These were nervous system experiences, not just spiritual ones.
You can recreate the regulation without returning to the belief.
Silence.
Repetition.
Gentle phrases.
Breathing.
Being witnessed by another human.
Comfort does not require theology.
Finding Solid Ground After Letting Go of Faith Practices
Letting go of faith does not mean letting go of safety forever. It means learning to build it differently.
Internal safety grows through repeated experiences of:
Listening to your body instead of overriding it
Responding to distress with care instead of judgement
Reaching for connection instead of isolation
Trusting your capacity to feel and survive big emotions
Your body already knows how to process fear, grief, and overwhelm. It has been doing this your whole life.
Sometimes the work is not learning something new, but unlearning the belief that you cannot cope without an external authority or spiritual framework.
You can.
Not alone.
Not perfectly.
But with support, practice, and compassion.
Reaching for Connection Without Spiritual Language
In religious communities, connection was often built into the structure. When people leave, isolation can deepen distress.
Connection now might look different:
Sitting with someone without needing to explain everything
Sharing how you are actually feeling, not the “acceptable” version
Being held, literally or metaphorically
Allowing yourself to receive care
You do not need shared beliefs to share humanity.
A Closing Reflection
When frightening things happen and faith is no longer a refuge, it can feel like standing in the open without shelter. But safety can come from within.
Your body.
Your breath.
Your capacity to feel.
Your ability to reach for others.
Your right to grieve, rest, and regulate.
When prayer used to be the salve, the question becomes not what do I believe now? but what do I need now?
That question itself is a place to begin.
It’s ok to find steady ground in yourself. Your body was made to feel, we are human.
You do not have to do it alone. Reach out if you need support.
Beyond Blue 1300 22 46 36
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The Rainbow Door
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