Spiritual Bypass
When Religion and Spiritual Practice Become an Escape
Do you regularly wake up in the morning and say, “Today, I’m ready to face myself and tackle all of my traumas and emotional issues, especially shame!” No?! You don’t?! Me neither. It’s never really been like that for me. Instead, I have found all possible excuses or opportunities to take a detour or bypass to avoid these feelings, thoughts, and memories. Whether it’s getting really stuck in my head and intellectualizing everything, or finding ways to distract myself with various compulsions or addictions, I’ve tried escaping myself and my inner pain for decades. One pervasive way that I’ve used to avoid facing reality is through spiritual and religious practices.
Can a person’s faith or spiritual practice be used inappropriately as a form of escape from facing and addressing their everyday reality? And, can religion turn into an addiction? In this post, I will unpack the topic of spiritual bypass and provide some insights from my own life experience.
Spiritual Bypassing
The term spiritual bypassing was originally coined in 1984 by psychotherapist and practicing Buddhist John Welwood.1 Forty years later, spiritual bypassing is recognized as a common phenomenon within all religious and spiritual traditions where a practitioner will use their spiritual or religious practices as a means to avoid experiencing the emotional pain of working through psychological issues. This could include avoiding facing their traumas, denying their painful feelings and unhealed wounds, or prematurely focusing on the positive and transcending their current reality without addressing the humanness of their situations. In other words, it’s the use of spirituality and religious practice as a psychological defense mechanism to keep us safe from facing our emotional hurts, wounds, and issues.
Robert Masters, PhD in his book Spiritual Bypassing: When Spirituality Disconnects Us from What Really Matters, writes:
“Spiritual bypassing is a very persistent shadow of spirituality, manifesting in many forms, often without being acknowledged as such. Aspects of spiritual bypassing include exaggerated detachment, emotional numbing and repression, overemphasis on the positive, anger-phobia, blind or overly tolerant compassion, weak or too porous boundaries, lopsided development (cognitive intelligence often being far ahead of emotional and moral intelligence), debilitating judgment about one's negativity or shadow side, devaluation of the personal relative to the spiritual, and delusions of having arrived at a higher level of being.”2
Furthermore, spiritual bypassing is very common among those in recovery as Ingrid Clayton, PhD writes in her article entitled, What Is Emotional Sobriety?
“Many people will take their bad feeling and try to pray it, meditate it, service it, spiritually distract themselves from it, thinking that this means they are working a good [recovery] program. This experience is actually called spiritual bypass…The shorthand for spiritual bypass is when a person wears a mask or presents a false spiritual self that represses aspects of that person's true self. Spiritual bypass involves bolstering our defenses rather than our humility. Bypass involves grasping rather than gratitude, arriving rather than being, avoiding rather than accepting.”3
All of these varied ways of bypassing unpleasant emotions, pains, traumas, and grief sound very familiar to me. Now, let me be clear, there are times when we all bypass our inner pain as human beings. For example, when we experience the initial shock and pain of a recent loss or begin any type of recovery process, it’s common for people to find comfort in prayer, scripture, or having someone tell them, “Let go and let God.” There is a time and place for spiritual bypass especially when the pain is still very much acute and we don’t have enough emotional resilience to face our internal feelings, sensations, and emotions. However, there comes a time when avoiding our inner pain or trying to bypass it whether through spiritual practices or other ways becomes a hindrance to our growth and evolution. And, it’s a way to keep us stuck instead of helping us move forward.
Before I address some of the ways that I’ve used spiritual bypassing, let me share some of my background for context.
My Introduction to Religion
Growing up, I was raised in my parents’ faith tradition as a Roman Catholic Christian. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I was born to Eastern European immigrant parents who raised me within their cultural context. In terms of religious identity, up until recent times, the Roman Catholic tradition was not only the primary faith of choice for most of Poland’s population, but it was intimately embedded within their history and culture of society.
According to World History Commons regarding the Catholic Church in Poland, 1950-2000,
“Poland is, at first glance, one of the most religiously homogeneous countries on earth. Almost all Polish children (99%) are baptized into the Roman Catholic Church; 93% of all marriages are accompanied by a church wedding; and depending on how you formulate the question, between 90% and 98% of the population will answer “Roman Catholic” when asked about their religion.”4
Now, that was the case almost twenty-five years ago. Today, the rate of Poles identifying themselves as Catholic has fallen to around 71%5 as a result of the many church sex scandals and the church’s position on abortion and other hot-button topics. Yet, when I was growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, it seemed to me that every Polish person I met identified themselves as Roman Catholic. For all I knew, I thought that everyone in the world was Roman Catholic; I didn’t know there were other faith traditions. To be honest, it wasn’t until I went away to college that I learned that other people were different from me. When it came to religion and spiritual practice, I was pretty sheltered growing up.
At around the age of four years old, I can vividly recall my nanny taking me to our local Catholic church as one of our daily activities. In those days, the church buildings were open during most hours of the day and anyone could walk in, light a candle, sit or kneel to pray, and spend time in the solace of the quietude and grandeur of the church’s sanctuary.
We would regularly go on these trips together. My nanny instructed me on how to behave in church, taught me how to pray to God, and introduced me to praying the Catholic rosary. As a curious child, I asked lots of questions and followed her modeling of how to practice Catholic faith and act in church; at least, I tried following her example wholeheartedly. In return, she was patient and kind in her responses and treatment of me. Due to my positive experiences with her on these trips, I loved going to church. Additionally, the time at the church was never boring. There was always something for my senses to focus on with all the colorful stained glass windows, the various paintings and statues, the rows of burning votive candles, the smell of incense in the air, and the occasional sound of the organist practicing in the background. To be honest, I enjoyed those trips so much that I myself would request going to church as one of our daily activities.
Schooled in the Faith
When I started Kindergarten at the local Catholic school, I had regular religion classes on a daily basis. I learned about Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and various other biblical characters and stories from both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures that I tried making sense of in my young mind. At such a young age, I believed that everything I was told was a fact and soaked it in like a sponge. Furthermore, I memorized the entire Catholic mass including the prayers, rituals, and hymns. Then, I would go home and play church with my stuffed animals that I lined up in perfectly straight lines.
Suffice it to say, I was completely enculturated into this faith tradition and practice from a very young age. In fact, at the age of seven, I recall telling my father that when I grew up I wanted to become a priest and get married. I also requested my mom sew some basic priest vestments that I would wear when I’d be playing church with my stuffed animals. As a response, my father told me that Catholic priests can’t get married. My response to him was, “Well, I guess I won’t be a priest.” Yet, I was still fascinated by my encounter in church and still found religion to be a special interest of mine.
Nothing would dissuade me from pursuing my interest. For example, I insisted on becoming an altar server (or what used to be called an altar boy in those days). At the beginning of second grade, I even had my mother make an appointment with the senior pastor at the church so I could discuss my desire to become an altar boy. I was extremely disappointed when he told me that I would need to wait an entire school year until I completed my First Holy Communion and was in third grade.
By the end of third grade, my wish finally came true and I was able to begin serving in this role. During the next four years from the age of nine through twelve, I regularly assisted the priests during both early morning weekday masses before school and on Saturdays or Sundays for weekend masses switching with the other servers. The best part for me was when they needed my service during the school day to assist in a funeral mass. They would sign me out of my morning classes and I would get to use the censer and burn incense next to the priest.
When I was older in fifth and sixth grades, during the Feast of the Epiphany, the celebration of the three magi or wise men visiting the baby Jesus in early January, the priest would sign an alter boy out of classes for the day and take him along to bless people’s homes. During these car rides, the priest would provide pastoral counseling. At the time, I didn’t realize it, but the priests were checking in on me during these long car rides. I was very lucky; all the priests that I knew growing up were very kind, appropriate, and good role models for me.
Honestly, at the time, being an altar server in the church was one of the few things I really enjoyed and found to be a positive part of my life. For me, it was all about dressing up in the red cassock and white surplice, feeling that I was valued and important in providing my duties and doing a good job assisting the priests during mass. And, deep down inside, I also believed that maybe, just maybe, if I did all the “right things” I could please God and that God would love me and save my mother and me from our daily horrors.
You see, by the time I was serving in the church, my mother and I were separated from my alcoholic father and living with another extremely abusive man who would regularly physically and verbally abuse us, threaten to kill us and lock us inside the apartment using a key that he only had. Because most of the men in my life were very abusive, and because I was taught that God was a male, I also believed that God would hurt me if I wasn’t a “good boy” and followed all the rules. In fact, I truly believed that the reason that my father and my mother’s boyfriend were both so mean and abusive was because I must have caused it. And, the reason that God didn’t save us from this situation was because I hadn’t done enough to please Him. So, looking back at my younger self, I can see that I truly believed that my good works and pleading prayers could save me and my mother.
At the time, the church was the only place in my life where I was praised for a good job. My home life was chaotic, I was bullied at school, and with my undiagnosed autism and ADHD, I had a difficult time both socializing and focusing in the classroom. As a result, my grades suffered and I felt that most of my unaware teachers were quite unkind to me (or at least that’s how I perceived them). But, in the church, I was treated well, nobody was yelling at me or anyone else, and the priests complimented and praised me for doing a good job and following all their rules and instructions. Besides, I had memorized all of my duties well enough that I could do them in my sleep and I was proud of it.
Change of Heart
Now, fast forward a couple of years. By the time I was fourteen, my mother and I had already literally escaped from her abusive boyfriend and returned to my alcoholic father, we moved across the country once again and I started a new school, my school work improved and some of my executive function skills improved as well. It literally felt as though a light switch was turned on in my brain.
This was also the time that I finally started to pay attention to what I was taught in my religion classes. For the first time, I began to question my religion teachers and the various church doctrines. They didn’t make sense to me and I began to see inconsistencies and contradictions between the teachings, the practices, and religious people’s behavior. The rituals, prayers, and hymns that comforted me as a younger child were no longer meaningful to me. To top it all off, I was very angry at God for not saving my mother and me from all the traumas we experienced despite all of my good work and service in the church.
In fact, I believed that either God was an asshole like every other man in my life, or I was the worthless asshole who God didn’t want to help. Perhaps, I believed a bit of both. By the time I finished high school, I left the Catholic church and didn’t consider myself to be religious anymore and I continued to suffer in silence.
Introduction to Other Traditions
Then, during my second year in college, I got into a relationship that went fast and furious and only lasted about six months. This young woman grew up in a Protestant Christian faith and still belonged to her church back home. While we dated, she introduced me to her faith tradition which seemed really different from mine.
In her Christian tradition, everything seemed the opposite. Everyone participated in the worship service including singing and greeting each other. The music was more upbeat, the minister’s sermon was also more inspiring, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves more. There was something about this experience that was drawing me in. Perhaps it was the community vibe.
On the other hand, when it came to my relationship with my college girlfriend, it became very unhealthy. I was very impulsive, controlling, and dominating; I insisted that we spend all available time together. She was codependent and accommodating. We both had unresolved traumas. I was avoiding my inner pain with binge eating and pornography; she was dealing with depression and an eating disorder related to her own pain. I became very attached to this young woman and believed that we’d get married despite the fact that I was barely 20 years old and she was the first person I had dated at the time. Because she gave me positive attention, I was hooked. Well, I should say that I got addicted to that relationship and the feelings I felt when I was with her. In retrospect, I was trying to have her fill the void I felt inside myself. Because the relationship was based on all the wrong things, it was doomed to fail from the beginning. Yet, when the relationship did eventually end, I was completely devastated and shocked. I spiraled into depression and felt despair.
As a way to deal with my grief after the loss of this relationship, I started attending a Christian Protestant church, on my own, close to the college campus. Perhaps it was a way to keep up the illusion, in my mind, that this woman who introduced me to her faith tradition was still part of my life, or maybe it was a way to seek answers and make sense of what I was experiencing after the lose of this relationship, or it may have been a way to distract myself and fill the deeper void I felt in my life now that I was alone again. The previous six months in that relationship sparked emotions that I hadn’t felt before. It really caused me to sense how deep my inner pain from being isolated and alone for so many years had been as both an undiagnosed neurodivergent and complex trauma survivor. In reality, I think I started attending this church for all those reasons and eventually I became a member.
Over time, I joined the church choir, and several church groups, attended committee meetings, worshiped every Sunday, met lots of people, and spent all my time outside of my classes involved in some aspect of the church. I felt important and that I belonged. On the surface, none of this seems unusual or unhealthy.
Yet, at that time, I had not dealt with my grief over the loss of this relationship, nor had I addressed my anger and estranged relationship with God, I certainly had not begun working through my complex traumas, or sense of shame, and I was still very much involved in my addictions with pornography and food.
“Fake it, ‘Til I Make it”
Today, I realize that at the age of 20, I was trying to control and avoid my feelings and to control and bargain with God. I was willing to use anything and everything, including religion, that I believed would help me feel as though I was in control of my life including controlling myself, other people, and God. Other people I met also helped fuel some of my spiritual bypassing even more during this period. Some young believers told me to “just give everything over to God,” or to pray more, read the bible more, or to remember that God sacrificed for me.
I tried doing everything on this list and more; instead of feeling better, I felt even more miserable and ashamed as I didn’t experience any significant change in how I experienced life or how I felt. It would still be about eight more years before I would admit to anyone that I had a real problem and that I needed help with both my addictions and coping with my complex traumas.
Meanwhile, I became even more involved in this church and eventually believed I had a calling into ministry. This is what led me to pursue a master’s in divinity degree and begin the ordination process. And, I could also finally prove to my father that it is possible to both get ordained as a pastor and also get married–something I had been holding onto since the age of seven.
However, just over halfway through my seminary training, my false facade finally began to crack. This led me to what I considered to be a crisis in faith where I saw that my religious practice was very heady and cerebral. I was intellectualizing everything big time–talk about spiritual bypassing. It wasn’t coming from a space of humility, faith, and conviction. That is, my religious practice had nothing to do with developing a deeper relationship with God, myself, or others through the faith community. It was coming from a space of desperation and a need to control everything in my life. My religious practices and church life were all based on escaping my feelings of pain and despair. This realization led me to eventually decide that I wasn’t meant to be an ordained minister and I ended up changing degrees. I stopped attending church and I eventually left that faith tradition as well.
For many years afterward, I wasn’t sure what I believed anymore. Inside, I was still very angry at myself, God, and the whole world. Not to mention, this sparked even more shame and feelings of low self-worth which fueled even more addictive and compulsive behaviors. Basically, I felt like a hot mess.
Replacing One for Another
After I started working on my recovery from the addictions, I began to explore other faith traditions and spiritual practices including different forms of meditation, self-help books and programs, yoga, positive affirmations, angel healing, shamanic practices, past life regression, and lots of other practices. Mistakenly, I thought the problem was with the specific practice or belief system, not with how I was approaching spiritual practice. In each of those other practices, I ended up having similar experiences. That is, I eventually came to the same place where I ended up with all the others, I felt that I wasn’t measuring up, I felt even more shame, and I thought something was wrong with me. Truly, I didn’t feel fulfilled in any of those spiritual practices. But, in reality, I couldn’t feel whole at the time because I was approaching each of these practices from the wrong space. I was trying to avoid and escape the real issue which was my inner wounds and traumas that were at the root of it all.
Eventually, what I realized was that I was looking for a savior to rescue me from myself and my inner pain and emotional hell from years of complex trauma and shame. I was hoping that God would just magically take everything away with a metaphorical snap of the fingers. I wanted to believe that I wouldn’t need to do anything other than just trust that God would take everything away without me doing any real work, or taking any real responsibility for my healing journey. That’s why it didn’t happen, and couldn’t happen.
What I didn’t realize until much later is that true healing wasn’t possible until I was willing to be present to all of my emotional pain, trauma, and the eventual mess that had been generated out of it in my life and my relationships. This didn’t mean that I had to relive the emotional pain and trauma; no, not at all. But, it did mean that I had to stop running away from it. I had to be willing to face it, to be present to it, to admit that it was there, and to be willing to do my part of the work on healing from it.
Surrender the Need to Control
For someone who considers themselves spiritual and at times religious, this new understanding doesn’t discount the place of God in the process. Not at all. Ironically, when I was willing to be humble and finally face myself and all my emotional baggage, at that very moment, I finally felt Divine presence as a sense of inner peace and a sliver of hope that healing was possible. In fact, it was my willingness to be open to facing all of my emotional pains that I was able to eventually forgive God and myself. And, it was also when I could finally begin to heal my relationship with others.
By the way, this moment of personal revelation and humility came during one of the lowest and most vulnerable points in my life. At the time, I was in the grips of a blood cancer diagnosis and my body was beginning to shut down. I had a growing tumor on my penis (of all places) which caused an open wound around my urethra. In order to urinate, I had to stuff my mouth with kitchen towels because the pain I felt while going to the bathroom was so severe that I couldn’t control myself from screaming so loudly that my voice went hoarse.
I avoided drinking any liquids and I literally would have anxiety attacks when I had an urge to urinate. I’m not exaggerating; my wife had to take our young children out to the park or on a walk each time I went to the bathroom so my screaming wouldn’t frighten them. The physical pain I was experiencing during those times was the worst I had ever felt in my life. It was in one of these desperate moments that I finally surrendered my egoic willfulness and the need to control everything over to God. I had enough. I was ready for God to take both my life and my pain away. At that very moment, instead of dying, I felt completely comforted and enveloped in love. Interestingly, the presence of God appeared to me in my mind as a motherly figure willing to comfort me in my pain and anguish.
For the first time, I allowed myself to feel loved and accepted by God. Now, let’s be clear. I still had excruciating pain when I urinated and I still had blood cancer. That didn’t change until I completed my cancer treatments sometime a year later.
However, I changed.
I was finally willing to surrender my control and do what would be necessary to heal my body, mind, and relationships.
Perhaps, some would say that this “God moment” was a form of spiritual bypass. A way for my brain to play tricks on me so that I could bear through my pain. All I know is that this moment that I shared with you was exactly what I needed to finally begin opening my heart and allowing myself to be more vulnerable. It was the turning point for me to accept my reality in life. At the same time, it provided me assurance that no matter what, I actually am valued and loved in this universe which allowed me to reflect that back and begin to love myself.
Takeaways
It’s been years since my body recovered from cancer. And, I’m certainly not enlightened or completely healed from my complex traumas or shame. Today, I continue to make mistakes on a daily basis, experience unpleasant emotions, and feel emotional pain. There are many occasions when my past shame is triggered and I have an emotional meltdown.
Yet, I can say with certainty that I love and accept myself more today than I have ever in my life. Additionally, I feel that my relationships have been slowly improving and that I am more capable and willing to express love toward others than I have ever been before.
At the same time, I’m just another wounded human being who realized that running away from myself and my traumas and emotional pain was leading to more pain and problems in my life. I also realized that I’m notorious for using anything including spiritual bypass as an escape and defense mechanism. Consequently, I’m still working on balancing having a spiritual practice and staying present to both my pleasant and unpleasant emotions without trying to bypass them. This may be a lifelong journey for me and I’m OK with that.
How about you? How does my experience resonate with you and your experiences of religion or spiritual practice?
Endnotes
2. https://modernmetanoiadotorg.files.wordpress.com/2020/07/71e93-spiritualbypassing.pdf
3. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/emotional-sobriety/201107/what-is-emotional-sobriety
4. https://worldhistorycommons.org/long-teaching-module-catholic-church-poland-1950-2000
Another banger, Doc! personal, heart wrenching, and honest, and always with a wonderful lesson learned! Thank you for sharing!