The idea was to place doubts “on the shelf” until a future answer appeared. But for many of us, the shelf was never built to hold the weight of what we were expected to put there. Over time, the questions pile up: intellectual, emotional, and moral. Eventually, the shelf breaks. And when it does, it becomes a spiritual crisis, a moral awakening, and often the beginning of a painful but liberating journey out of high-demand environments.

What Makes High-Demand Groups So Hard to Leave

High-demand or high-control groups go far beyond “cults.” They can also include abusive relationships, toxic workplaces, or any controlling spiritual, self-development, or vocational community. These groups tend to shape four major areas of a person’s life:

• Behavior: rules around dress, relationships, roles, or lifestyle
• Thoughts: discouraging critical thinking, questioning, or outside sources
• Emotions: controlling through shame, guilt, fear, or “not being spiritual enough”
• Social world: creating dependence and severe consequences for leaving

This creates what I call a "shared false reality", a world where questioning feels dangerous and obedience feels virtuous. With high exit costs layered on top, doubt becomes a personal failure and leaving feels impossible.

This is why it often takes a rupture for the deconstruction process to begin.

Why the Shelf Breaks: The Catalysts for Deconstruction

Brittany Hartley, in No Nonsense Spirituality, identifies the five most common reasons people in the West deconstruct their tradition:

• concerns about institutions
• rebellion against abuses of power
• confusion about the problem of evil
• humility in the face of mystery
• life events that shock you out of your worldview (death, trauma, injustice)

According to recent research from the Barna Group, 42% of U.S. adults say they have deconstructed the faith tradition they were raised in, often because newly accessible information, hidden histories, social media, and deep personal values conflicts make old frameworks unsustainable. When people learn about abusive leadership, harmful doctrines, or truths that were previously withheld, the shared false reality can no longer hold. These moments often become the point where the moral cost of staying outweighs the social cost of leaving.

My Shelf-Breaking Moments

As a kid in the LDS Church, I was drawn to science, justice, and fairness. I questioned gender inequality early. I couldn’t understand why men could be “sealed” to multiple women eternally while women could not. Whenever I asked, I was told it would “make sense in the afterlife.” I tucked that away on the shelf.

By my late teens, the shelf was full: evolution, race, gender, spiritual authority, prophetic infallibility, LGBTQ+ exclusion. The final break came when the church campaigned for Proposition 8 to ban marriage equality. At that moment, my values and the institution’s actions collided so sharply that staying felt like a betrayal of my integrity.

Later, I experienced a second shelf-breaking moment at a yoga ashram, another high-demand environment with spiritual language, rigid hierarchy, and a culture of obedience. The breaking point came from witnessing harm and the leadership’s refusal to address it.

In both cases, the rupture came from a deep conflict with my core values. Once that happened, the exit costs no longer outweighed my integrity.

Crisis Contemplation: The Freefall No One Chooses

I want to take a moment to validate how upsetting this process can be. Leaving a high-control group rarely feels peaceful. It feels like being dropped into freefall.

Barbara Holmes calls this crisis contemplation, describing it as:

“When the ordinary isn’t ordinary anymore and the crisis is upon us, the self can center in this refuge that I am calling ‘crisis contemplation.’ It is a cracking open, the rupture and shattering of self, community, expectations, and presumptions about how the world works. It is the result of trauma, freefall, and wounding.”

Most people imagine contemplation as serene and intentional: meditation cushions, silent retreats, candlelight. But crisis contemplation is the opposite. It’s involuntary and disruptive. It shatters your old frameworks and forces you to reckon with the truth.

Holmes also notes that crisis contemplation often happens collectively: through racial injustice, pandemics, mass trauma, or institutional collapse. I believe religious deconstruction fits this pattern. Social media, hidden histories, and abuses of power have pushed entire communities into spiritual freefall.

Discernment Tools I Use to Move Forward

There’s no map for what happens after the shelf breaks. No two deconstruction journeys look the same. But I’ve found certain tools that help me stay grounded in myself and navigate spiritual spaces with discernment:

• Self-knowledge and therapy - Understanding how trauma and neurodivergence affect belonging and vulnerability.
• Moral exemplars and “admirable friends” - Looking to people who embody integrity and courage in their own deconstruction.
• Litmus-test questions - Before getting involved in a new group or relationship I ask myself things like: Does this group help me trust myself more or less? Is there pressure to hide or ignore harm? Do the fruits match the roots?
• Intuitive practices - Tarot, dream work, shadow work, astrology, and inner-child practices to help me listen within.
• Deep attention to my core values

Closing

When the shelf breaks, it often feels like failure, freefall, or chaos. But I’ve come to believe these moments are acts of profound bravery. They are places where truth breaks through. They are moments of prophetic witness, the kind we might not have asked for but cannot ignore.

If you’re navigating your own shelf-breaking moment, you’re not alone.

Interested in exploring your deconstruction journey in a completely judgement-free space? Book a free intro call to explore whether spiritual direction is right for you.