You Lied to Me About God: A Memoir

by Jamie Marich

A courageous, vulnerable, and spellbinding memoir that explores with visceral impact what happens when harm starts at home—and is exalted as God’s will. For readers of Unfollow and Jesus Land, You Lied to Me About God explores spiritual abuse, intergenerational trauma, and weaponized faithAt nine years old, Jamie Marich asked God to end it all.Doing it herself would be an irrevocable an affront to the church and her father’s God. She prayed instead for the rapture, an accident, a passive death—anything to stop the turmoil of feeling wrong in her body; wrong in her desires; wrong in her faith in a merciful God that could love her wholly as she was.You Lied to Me About God explores the schisms that erupt when faith is weaponized, when abuse collides with the push-and-pull of a mixed religious upbringing tyhat tells no matter which path you choose—no matter what you know in your heart to be true—you’re probably damned.With resilience, strength, and gut-punching clarity, Marich takes readers through a tumultuous coming-of-age marked by addiction, escapism, spiritual manipulation, misogyny, and abuse. She shares with unflinching detail the complicity of her mother’s silence and the lengths her father went to assert dominance and control over her body, her desires, her identity—and even her eternal soul—”for her own good” and with a side of televangelistic hellfire.Hitting a breaking point, Marich embarks on from shrines in Croatia to ashrams in Florida, she reckons with what it means to come home to a faith that heals and accepts her wholly as she in her queerness, in her body, and in her deep relationship to an expansive and loving God.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Religion, Psychology, LGBT, Queer

296 pages, Paperback

Published October 15, 2024

Reviews

[Em · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dr. Jamie Marich's upcoming release, "You Lied To Me About God," is an incredibly brave and honest memoir of her experiences growing up as a highly sensitive, queer child in a mixed Catholic and Evangelical household. In this deeply personal account, Dr. Marich details the impact of religious trauma on her life, the effects of spiritual abuse and the harmful influence of Christosupremacy.

Dr. Marich captivated me with her candid truths on the complexities of her upbringing. Her narrative skillfully weaves together the devout Catholicism of her mother and the anti-Catholic stance of her father, painting a vivid picture of the challenges faced in a household marked by religious diversity. The author recounts childhood prayers for the rapture, revealing how, as a trauma therapist, she now interprets those early experiences as desperate cries for help.

The book explores the concept of spiritual bypassing, eloquently explained by Marich through the lens of her own journey. Drawing on Buddhist teacher John Welwood's term, she articulates the pitfalls of relying on religion to evade the emotional work necessary for healing. The author's reflections on the film "Amistad" as a guiding force in writing the book add depth to the narrative, showcasing the interplay between personal experiences and the way the arts help us to process and understand our pain.

Dr. Marich's connection to her roots as a therapist with Croatian, Serbian, and Hungarian heritage enriches the memoir, drawing important parallels between historical contexts and contemporary spiritual bypassing. Her incisive commentary on the intricate relationship between church and state provides a crucial critical analysis of spiritual abuse, contributing to a macro lens conversation on these issues as well.

The author vulnerably shares her journey through substance abuse, offering readers a glimpse into the pain she sought to numb. "You Lied To Me About God" is ultimately a story of found family and healing. Marich honors the journey, her chosen family, and the transcending power of connection and support.

Readers will resonate with the complexities of love and societal expectations as Marich shares her experience falling in love with a seminarian, a relationship thwarted by institutional barriers. The inclusion of expressive arts invitations in the book offers readers moments of reflection, enhancing the reading experience.

Dr. Marich also fearlessly addresses problematic behaviors within 12-step meetings, creating a space for readers to confront and navigate the challenges of recovery. Her compassionate approach makes this book a valuable resource for anyone seeking to understand the profound impact of spiritual abuse and the journey toward healing.

[Ryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a heartbreaking memoir that tries to be so much more. At times it’s the most detailed diary where nothing is left to the imagination. Then it’s an expressive arts therapy exercise workbook to help deal with the issue addressed within a chapter. It’s even a mix of the history of the author’s ancestors and yogis.

The author has written numerous therapeutic books and in this one decided to say everything that she wanted to say and had steered away from previously. An editor could have seriously steered this meandering look at a painful, resilient life along a connected path rather than it be assorted, somewhat connected tales that people need to hear.

Her dissociation was mentioned, but never explained nor were the identities ever mentioned. It felt like while laying everything out there, she didn’t quite unpack the car.

Thanks to NetGalley and North Atlantic Books for an ARC of this book.

[Melissa · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a trauma therapist specializing in dissociation, I found myself struggling to find the words to articulate the depth of this memoir and it left me pondering how to articulate the significance of this profoundly, courageous, venerable, and necessary movement towards a deeper understanding of trauma and healing. Dr Jamie Marich's narrative is raw, deeply relatable, and insightful, offering a true glimpse into the journey of a complex trauma survivor striving to live authentically and end the internal struggle of the black and white framework so many adhere to. Jamie is the modern-day example of the “Wild Woman” in all her glory; representing the instinctual, untamed aspect of femininity that is often suppressed by societal, cultural, generational, and religious expectations. Marich's journey is a powerful illustration of reclaiming this “wild”, authentic self in the face of trauma and repression while navigating the weight of messages and what it means to be human, on the soul from an early age. I commend her for the strength and journey towards this memoir, sharing what we as providers are often directed as taboo. This begs the question for me: What if renowned researchers and scholars, like Marsha Linehan Ph.D. and DBT founder, had felt comfortable sharing their truth sooner? Imagine the progress we might have already made in battling the deep darkness of the soul, that we too may know of, that takes the lives of so many today.

You Lied to Me About God is a compelling, necessary read for anyone in the helping field, seeking increased awareness of trauma, effective trauma treatments, including addiction and dissociation. Marich's honesty and vulnerability offer a powerful reminder of the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of therapeutic intervention, in a multitude of ways that honor individuals without black and white parameters. It explores the complexity of uncovering the dark wounds of generations' survival responses culminating into one person's darkness and the ever changing climb to find peace within the soul. This memoir can only enrich our professional practice simultaneously solidifying the necessity of digging deeper than just the surface. . Much gratitude to the impact of her vulnerability of shining light, in her purpose, the complex interplay of trauma, spirituality, addiction, mental health, dissociation, and healing.

[Leslie P · Rating 5 out of 5]

A raw and honest story of growing up “in the Church-es.”

I received an ARC for my honest review of this book.

While reading this book, I often thought, “huh, so it’s not just me?” To me that’s always the sign of a great memoir. I also value the author’s commitment to leave no reader behind, she offers beautiful invitations at the end of each chapter to engage in reflection and somatic practice to foster one’s own self-protection and healing.

At times I needed to put it down to process, and other times I couldn’t put it down. Although it might seem non-standard in that it does not follow a linear time line of events, I appreciate the grouping by themes and how she describes healing happened for her. I thought of comparison and contract of What My Bones Know in that that book felt more like a “trauma dump” but really glossed over how the inner work of healing happens and was more just a retelling of what happened. As a therapist the author can tell the story of the healed- the healing.

As a person raised catholic but never quite a believer, this book left me with a renewed curiosity to explore more of my own present-day spiritual identity. For that I thank this gift of a book.

The book has a Nanette (from Hannah Gadsby) vibe in that it plays with the memoir form and certainly breaks convention in being more “conversational: than presentational. Take what you like and leave the rest, but I was engrossed throughout.

[Louisa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Parts of this read like an NPR devotee leading a workplace discussion -“my Black friends,” “many lovely Muslim people,” etc. And the transition to the Amrit Desai section was odd to say the least. They willingly (and repeatedly) attended the cult of man who they *knew* was a sex pest, if not criminal, because their philosophy encouraged “investigation prior to contempt”? At least in my opinion, that rationale needed a bit more unpacking, especially when so much else is thoroughly analyzed.

The honesty and self-reflection and vulnerability at times are beautiful. Her analysis of herself and her experiences can be poignant and insightful.

Thank you to NetGalley, the author, and the publisher for an eARC in exchange for my honest review.

2.5/5

[Rebecca · Rating 3 out of 5]

An intimate memoir that reads more like a long journal entry. While it’s an important story of religious trauma, deconstruction, coming out, healing, I found the writing style to be distracting.

[Lyss Chiampi · Rating 5 out of 5]

I listened to this book and it was the first book I’ve ever read that has hit so close to home. There are just many parallels in my story to Jamie’s, needless to say, I was hooked from the start. Good til the last drop; I didn’t even realize it ended when it did, when I heard her speak in the third person is when I realized I was in the acknowledgments section. My therapist better be ready to unpack with me on Monday!!

[Richard Derus · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rating: 4* of five



The Publisher Says: A courageous, vulnerable, and spellbinding memoir that explores with visceral impact what happens when harm starts at home—and is exalted as God’s will.



For readers of Unfollow and Jesus Land, You Lied to Me About God explores spiritual abuse, intergenerational trauma, and weaponized faith.



At nine years old, Jamie Marich asked God to end it all. Doing it herself would be an irrevocable an affront to the church and her father’s God. She prayed instead for the rapture, an accident, a passive death—anything to stop the turmoil of feeling wrong in her body; wrong in her desires; wrong in her faith in a merciful God that could love her wholly as she was.



You Lied to Me About God explores the schisms that erupt when faith is weaponized, when abuse collides with the push-and-pull of a mixed religious upbringing that tells no matter which path you choose—no matter what you know in your heart to be true—you’re probably damned. With resilience, strength, and gut-punching clarity, Marich takes readers through a tumultuous coming-of-age marked by addiction, escapism, spiritual manipulation, misogyny, and abuse. She shares with unflinching detail the complicity of her mother’s silence and the lengths her father went to assert dominance and control over her body, her desires, her identity—and even her eternal soul—”for her own good” and with a side of televangelistic hellfire.Hitting a breaking point, Marich embarks on from shrines in Croatia to ashrams in Florida, she reckons with what it means to come home to a faith that heals and accepts her wholly as she in her queerness, in her body, and in her deep relationship to an expansive and loving God.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: Being lied to about god (no capital letters on this word from me; it cannot be a name because there is no such entity or class of entities...now you know how I came to read this book) is a cultural sport across the world. The lie of religion is that it solves problems, that it encourages morality and better behavior...I direct your attention to the Middle East/West Asia for disproof of that. Two highly religious groups use god to justify the attempted extermination of the other based on how they talk to their imaginary friend.

But please tell me again how god is a force for good and for healing in the whole wide world.

So, Jamie Marich's title gaffed me in the gills immediately. Her story of being queer in a competitively religious household (howinahell did these two people conceive of running a family together when they can't even agree on which one's imaginary friend to worship?!) and how it completely screwed up her emotional and psychological makeup felt like a distorted mirror of my own emotional and psychological abuse at the hands of a "christian" mother. (She was not, I have met real christians since and know that she, like most of them, used the label as a smokescreen for her evildoing.) I am, in other words, as close to the author's platonic ideal reader as one can reasonably expect any random person reading DRCs to be.

So why was this not a five-star paean?

Density. As an exegesis of the ways religion fails to live up to its stated goals of comforting and guiding people through a hard and cruel world, it's nonpareil. As a careful unpicking of the shockingly prevalent coercive and abusive uses of religion as a whole, and the evangelical christian religion in particular, it shines. As a story to read, it's unflinching.

It's also messy. The author states the experience of dissociative identity disorder as a major feature of her experience of recovering from religious abuse. This shows up in the prose as unexpected, unexplained switches from "I" to "we" in between sentences, even in the middle of some. That jars me into a different reading style, one where I'm attending less to what is said and more to what might be coming next in terms of narrative voice. As a memoir, I find the author's exhortations every so often to journal, or to create art, as the reader is going through the story a bit over-the-top. I agree that some readers will want to do those things; I'm not sure those of us who don't want to do those things need to hear about it. I'm not really interested in hearing about how the author expects to be attacked by those still in the throes of religious mania, though I agree it's most definitely probable to happen.

So not a perfect read. For me. Instead it is an urgently needed personal account of how much damage is done imposing one's own certainties onto others. Onto children. Onto the world that does not share them. There's huge value in telling that story, in making it available to read. At an earlier, more unsettled of mind, time in my own life, I would have battened on this honest, vivid story of the harm done to the author in her encounter with the evangelical strain of the christian religion, and found great comfort and fellowship in it.

At this stage of my life, I am glad I read it; I am glad to recommend it to those in need of companionship on the road out of abusive places that work hard to invalidate your existence. I do not share the author's residual belief in a god. It seems to me to invalidate her own descriptions of her religious abuse.

Just please don't use it as a therapy workbook. Please, if it speaks to you, seek out Genetically Modified Skeptic or a similar fellow experiencer of the issue to find resources for mental health support.

It is to Author Marich's credit that the story of her abuse is public, and available to inform and comfort others. It should not be confused for professional guidance.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Jamie Marich experienced spiritual abuse, intergenerational trauma, and weaponized faith as a child. She grew up in a family where two parents practiced two versions of Christian religion, and she was in the middle. This book tells some of her story as it explores some of the challenges she has faced and some details of the therapy she's undergone to find healing. As she explains at the beginning, "[I] don’t see this book as an airing of dirty laundry. It’s a story of how, metaphorically speaking, I learned to examine the filth that people and institutions asked me to wear without any questions." And "Something really bad happened here . . . and this is my home, too. And these are my people."
The writing style is fairly down to earth. I appreciated the honest and practical way the author shares her traumas and discusses her healing.
The content does meander. One page could tell a story from the author's past and present, then jump to therapeutic explanations for why we do what we do. With this technique, the flow was a bit disjounted at times.
The resource list at the back includes helpful information for anyone searching for answers, healing and truth about God.
I like that Dr. Marich gives readers an opportunity to be seen. And the expressive exercises at the end of each chapter invite personalized exploration of the chapter's teaching.
Some of my favorite quotes:
"One of the first things I usually like to know before I can cross the line from respectful acquaintance into real friendship is how would they treat their children if their children decided not to follow the faith as they practice it. Their answer is rather indicatory of the safety that I have the capacity to feel with them."
"I do not see any case for being horrible to people who are different than you as being necessary for worshipping or believing in the God (or Jesus) of your understanding."
"Whenever I wanted to speak up in my family or at school, I curled back in. Because a flower cannot bloom in a greenhouse poisoned by fear."
"To heal the world, we must first heal ourselves."
"The idea of changing the world can feel overwhelming. Perhaps the real answer is to heal ourselves and then make a difference on a one-on-one relational level."
"My position around the morality of abortion [any topic really!] started to shift again by meeting other people and hearing their stories."
"Sometimes sexual anorexics dissociate themselves from any sexual expression because of trauma or abuse...following a religious conversion when a person feels a high degree of shame about their sexuality, or out of tremendous scrupulosity and fear of sexual sin."
"There are masculine (ida) and feminine (pingala) energies in everything. These play out in our bodies as the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system. Consciousness is masculine and energy is feminine. They desire to be united and working together harmoniously. Yet stress and trauma have a way of tearing them apart."
"Viriditas, the greening power of God - What is cutting off the greening or growing power of God in your life?”

[Brice Montgomery · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thanks to NetGalley and North Atlantic Books for the ARC!

Dr. Jamie Marich’s You Lied to Me About God is a deeply frustrating read in that it is a good book buried in a bad memoir.

Decorated with taxonomies at every turn, this begins as something closer to The Body Keeps the Score for spiritual abuse than a memoir. That’s where it excels, as Marich weaves therapeutic language and concepts throughout common religious trauma. The book is so successful in this regard that, for a while, I wondered if it might eventually be considered a seminal text on the subject.

Unfortunately, though, this approach quickly undermines the structure of the book, as Marich treats her personal history as a problem to be solved—a therapeutic object lesson. As a result, there’s endless signposting like, “the full story will unwind in other chapters of this memoir.” The author completely loses the specificity of her story because she’s preoccupied with its singularity, so her fairly standard spiritual journey is framed as novel and implicitly didactic. Additionally, this attitude makes some of Marich’s other structural decisions appear misjudged, such as each chapter’s concluding “Expressive Arts Invitation,” which is essentially a trauma-informed reflection exercise. Because they are supposed to exist in conversation with “memoir,” they feel self-indulgent more than anything else. As a reader, it feels bad to see a memoirist seemingly convinced that their life's main value is instructive.

Furthermore, like the recent Kissing Girls on Shabbat, a book that might be considered a spiritual sister to this one, the memoir within You Lied to Me About God feels grossly underserved by Marich’s therapeutic impulses. She seems intent on analyzing or justifying every past belief, often to the book’s detriment. I think effective memoir recognizes that its author is just one of many past, present, and future selves, but this book feels desperate to cast the now-Marich as the definitive one, capable of handling every aspect of her life with an authoritative finality. It reads as defensive, a characteristic further compounded by countless performative, white liberal touchstones, such as discussions on race that ultimately feel self-serving.

Lest these critiques seem to be in bad faith, I write this as someone who largely shares the author’s politics and feelings about religion. I also just think Marich’s use of BIPOC scholarship seems patronizing and flippant, rather than rooted in a desire for robust alternative perspectives. Every look outward feels meant to attract the reader’s attention to Marich herself. By the end of the book, this insularity feels like its defining characteristic—a memoir so convinced that it will be “useful” to its readers that it seems completely disinterested in them and detached from its author.

[Naomi Collins · Rating 2 out of 5]

I love memoirs, and most of my favorite books are memoirs. I was really excited to see a book about queerness, childhood trauma, and Christianity — it seemed like the book was written with me as its number one target audience. A memoir just for me, if you will.

The problem is, the author is insufferable and she keeps getting in the way of an interesting story. She is beyond self-important, to the point I have second hand embarrassment at times reading this. For example, she says she expects people to come after her work and discredit because they are afraid of her, afraid of what she represents. But like, I am trying to discredit her work because it’s just plain bad, not because I am afraid of her!

Another example of her embarrassing self-importance: at the end of the chapters, she invites the reader to reflect on what we’ve read, to journal about it, make art about it. Excuse me? I’m sorry but that’s insane. If I want to do healing work, I’ll buy a workbook for that. Your life is not so interesting and so profound that I myself feel moved to create art about your life. Like … what? It was a bafflingly self-obsessed thing that stood out like a sore thumb. Did her editor not try to dissuade her from doing this?

Another thing that was incredibly distracting was how often she switched calling herself singular versus plural, even within the same thought and sentence. I get it, she claims to have dissociative identity disorder and sometimes feels like multiple people. Hey, in my own trauma work, I used a lot of IFS principles and found it helpful to use plurals when referring to myself quite a bit. But the thing is, she doesn’t get that that tool is meant to be limited in scope, it is not a thing to use forever. Fractured selves require integration, not indulgence, and besides a fundamental disagreement with how she framed that, it was bad writing. It’s bad form to switch between singular and plural in one sentence, multiple times in a paragraph, etc.

There are other things too, like how she is expects this to be a bombshell expose, or how she’s constantly virtue signaling. All in all, it took me forever to even get halfway through this book because the author herself is so self-important that I can feel the weight of her ego through the pages of her very badly written memoir. She thinks she is a lot more unique than she is, she thinks she is a lot more special than she is, and she is exhausting to read about. A memoir’s author should be someone you enjoy spending time with, but I could only take her in five minute chunks before I had to walk away.

It’s all so unfortunate. She and I may share so many similarities in politics and religion, but she herself is so insufferable and self-important that it’s hard to even finish the book, let alone want to know more.

Maybe others will get more out of this than I did.

[Mark Brayne · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm giving Jamie's new book 5 stars not because I think it's perfect, but as an encouragement to others to read what is a very fluently-written, easily-readable and deeply honest and insightful account of what I suspect is a not-unusual American childhood, informed by the clash of traditions, religions (her evangelical father doesn't emerge too well from her account) and cultures in a society built almost entirely on what is, in the greater scheme of things, still relatively recent immigration.

Jamie, I'll also acknowledge as a Brit here and fellow psychotherapist, is a friend and colleague whose previous books about EMDR, dissociation and addiction I have gladly and enthusiastically endorsed. She brings a youthful freshness, openness and courage to the practice of psychotherapy, EMDR in particular, gaily and colourfully challenging the dogmas and the personal and professional feuds that characterise and at times even cripple our profession.

Coming out over the years as an addict in recovery, as dissociative and as queer/bisexual, Jamie's willingness to self-disclose and openly to explore her complex experience of self in the world has helped create a space, especially again in our EMDR world, where it's gradually becoming safer to be authentic.

I speak here as someone who at the ripe old age of 70 and a good deal older than Jamie was finally diagnosed as autistic, noting that my own willingness and capacity to share my neurodivergence publicly was in no small measure informed by Jamie's modelling, in her writings and her workshops, on social media and on in-house discussion forums. Her impact on others, including with this book, will no doubt be similarly helpful.

Like others who've already posted reviews here, I'm grateful for the advance copy of You Lied to Me About God, and have to say that while agreeing with the positive appraisals already posted here, the criticisms of the book and its focus also resonate, caught as I also found it slightly uncomfortably between personal memoir (every slice of which is rivetingly authentic; as ever, Jamie writes like an angel) and a desire to teach.

The book is very Jamie. If visitors here know her previous works - or indeed if not - then absolutely, do read this one too.

Whether or not you buy into all of her conclusions about difference (and she and I gladly disagree on how immutable some of these identities might actually be), I would hope you enjoy the read as much as I did, even if - like another reviewer here - you wince a bit at the exercises after each chapter. I have to admit to skipping those, but that might just be me.

[PowerfullyPowerless · Rating 5 out of 5]

I recently reviewed and worked through the practices from the book You Lied To Me About God written by Dr. Jamie Marich. As a person with a physical disability, particularly one I was born with, who by nature has many barriers to accessing mental health support and a unique lived experience when it comes to Spiritual Trauma, I was excited to dive in and get to work. I wasn’t three, maybe five, pages into the first chapter when stuff around my spiritual trauma was popping up. I knew I would have to take it slow, which I did, but was also eager to continue working through the exercises and finishing the book. Several personal experiences shared within the book were close to my own, which created a sense of safety and relieved a lot of the lost and alone feelings I’ve been dealing with around my spiritual trauma. The most impactful part was the more painful shared experiences that offered a sense of understanding and empathy. I as the reader and she as the author understood each other’s pain. Even though the contexts were different many of the fallouts as a result of the experiences were the same. Due to the nature of our lived experiences being so unique and specific or unrelatable to the professionals we see are an extra layer and challenge we face in our healing journeys. The same things can be experienced by us as they can be by anyone, but oftentimes not in the same way as they are by someone else, or they are in direct connection to our disabilities that are not fixable or changeable. The last chapter of the book, I will admit, was difficult and left me in a place that one might identify as a dark night of the soul. I wasn’t prepared to confront my past suicidal ideation and attempts as something, in part, stemming from spiritual trauma, although in hindsight it makes sense. Albeit temporary, which I knew, the ending left me feeling completely shattered yet open to processing even more of my spiritual trauma. If those invitations to process weren’t at the end of every chapter I don’t think that would be the case nor would I have found the healing that I did from working through it.

[Alix Amar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jamie Marich’s *You Lied to Me About God* is a compelling memoir that explores the complexities of faith, identity, and spiritual recovery. Raised by parents of differing faiths—Catholic and Evangelical—Marich recognized she was in a spiritual crisis as early as 9 years old, when she experienced suicidal ideation. This early crisis set her on a lifelong journey to understand and reclaim her faith, leading her to explore various other religions, only to find that they could be as exploitative and harmful as those she grew up with.

Marich’s exploration of her identity as a queer person and her experiences living with dissociation add profound depth to her story. She candidly discusses how organized religions, across different traditions, often alienate those who do not fit within their narrow definitions of morality. Her reflections provide a critical look at how spiritual exploitation can pervade different faith systems, leaving individuals with deep emotional and psychological scars.

Despite these challenges, Marich’s story is ultimately one of resilience and hope. Her memoir serves as both an account of the trauma inflicted by organized religion and a guide for others seeking to reclaim their faith on their own terms. *You Lied to Me About God* can be helpful to anyone on a path of spiritual self-discovery, particularly those who have experienced the darker side of religious institutions and are searching for an authentic connection in their own fairh journey.

[Jen W · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can’t quite recall how I came across this remarkable book, especially during a time when I was distancing myself from all things spiritual. Yet, a fleeting impulse nudged me to purchase it anyway, thinking that if it didn’t resonate, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I am beyond grateful that I took that chance. This book has found a permanent place in my heart. From the very preface, I felt it was a safe haven as she meets the reader where you are in your relationship with god. Even before I completed the first chapter, I was armed with pens and highlighters, jotting down notes—something I had never done before in any book. This book illuminated many aspects of my upbringing and instilled a sense of hope within me. With each chapter, I found myself exclaiming, "No shit, you too?" I struggle to express just how thankful I am to Dr. Marich for sharing her journey with the world and with me. Additionally, I had the wonderful opportunity to meet Dr. Marich during a book signing in Raleigh. She is genuinely one of the kindest people you could ever encounter (and she has a beautiful singing voice, too). The impact of her words on my life is indescribable, leaving an indelible mark that I will carry with me always. This book has become a treasured part of my life. It unlocked my previously shut heart and mind to the notion that a divine presence exists and that not all spirituality poses a threat.

[Holly Crumpler · Rating 5 out of 5]

We have admired and benefitted from the professional teachings of Dr. Jamie Marich on trauma and dissociation for some time, so we relished the opportunity to learn more about their personal journey and gain greater insights into what motivates the incredible work they do for this world.

As a survivor of childhood trauma, we empathized with many of the struggles they endured and were empowered by seeing what they have overcome and are able to give back as a result.

At her core, Jamie is a teacher. As she vulnerably and honestly shares her personal struggles with religious trauma, spiritual abuse, emotional abuse, sexuality, addiction, disordered eating, etc., she does so in a measured way with the intention of helping others, rather than merely “trauma dumping,” which we have found triggering in other memoirs covering child abuse.

We appreciated her thoughtful Expressive Arts Invitations at the end of each chapter which allow the reader to reflect on and personally benefit from the information Jamie shares, or to help process any challenging content given their own trauma history.

At times I found it hard to keep up with the timeline given the way the book jumps around. While likely unintentional, it reflects the reality of those who live with dissociative identities.

Jamie’s memoir is significant for speaking truth to the impact of the controlling, closed-minded indoctrinations that bring shame to people for just wanting to live as their natural selves.

I highly recommend Jamie’s vulnerable, authentic, and inspiring story.

[Deanna · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5⭐️
I trained under this author about a decade ago and have since read many of their books and articles and utilized resources etc. I find her approach valuable and have appreciated her focus on social justice, and the nance provided. When I heard this book was being published I looked forward to reading it both because of the content of religious trauma and because of the author. I did expect it to be more clinical, like prior books, so I was a bit surprised when I found out it it was a memoir. With that said, she has been an advocate for self disclosure and has shared bits of her story throughout her work, so I looked forward to hearing more about the experiences that shaped her perspective.
In reading the book, it did feel like a bit of a merge of clinical writing with memoir and even a bit of a diary. I think this blend aligned with their identity as having multiple parts. Much of the book resonated with me based upon personal experiences and experiences of people I know and clients. What deviated most from my expectations was that there was both a view of the harms that can come from religion and an embracing of religion. This is a perspective that I have not deeply explored with the people I have engaged with often. Typically I see one extreme or the other or complete apathy. So it was helpful to hear this view.

[Krista V · Rating 5 out of 5]

Although I can understand some of the criticism this book has received per prior reviews (such as not being as linearly organized as other memoirs or having a more academic/teaching vibe at times), I feel that 5 stars are deserved for the book doing what I believe it sets out to do: address the author's spiritual trauma while also letting others who have experienced spiritual trauma know that they are not alone and can also heal. I like that it ultimately questions various types of systems that harm us all, not just spiritual institutions. It also questions things like fatphobia/diet culture, gender roles, 12 Step programs, academia, the psychology field, and other things that try to fit people into molds. I like that the author shares how she came to accepting eclectic views because of being able to become true to herself and how they make no apologies for not fitting into a mold. I personally enjoyed the expressive arts reflections at the end of chapters, though I may be biased as a creative arts therapist myself. However, what is the point of writing a book if not to connect with other people, no? In this way I think the author does a great job of connecting with the reader and helping us all feel connected.

*I received an eARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Melissa Barsotti · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a beautiful work of love, and a gift to us all. Dr. Marich/Jamie+/Unicorn System courageously takes us through their journey to be authentically and unapologetically them. Their journey has been one that we can all relate to in some form or another. As a person/system who has always felt like I/We did not belong, I felt seen and heard. Jamie's advocacy feels to me, is to me, a warm blanket that I've always wanted and needed.
I'm grateful that Jamie+ also narrates this book herself in the audiobook version. Her voice is strong and deeply felt throughout. This book is on my list of recommended books for many reasons, especially because it highlights that TRAUMA is TRAUMA. There need not to be any trauma Olympics. PAIN knows PAIN. If you're coming out as QUEER for the first time, this book is for you. If you know that you are spiritual but NOT religious, this book is for you. If you are on your own Healing Journey, this book is for you. This book is for all of us.
Side Note: I would highly recommend for this book to be part of a comparative religion course syllabus, and trauma course!

Warmly,
Melissa
#religious trauma
#spiritual abuse
#DID
#OSDD
#trauma
#traumahealing
#recovery
#comingout
#LGBTQIA+affirming
#mentalhealthadvocacy

[Christen · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a well-written and engaging memoir. I devoured it in just a few days. Despite delving into her experiences of religious trauma, I did not find it triggering as a fellow survivor--it was handled well. It gave a well-rounded picture of the many facets of damage that her adverse religious experiences did, while also painting an intriguing picture of how she has managed to reconstruct a faith experience that works for her. The book handled "taboo" topics gracefully and was honest without being antagonistic. I think the book will be most helpful to religious trauma survivors, but it would be an excellent resource for those who have genuine questions about how religion can at times be harmful, when they have not experienced it as such. The book was deep, honest, and heartfelt, and I highly recommend it.

[Priscilla King · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jamie Marich is a real person, a polymath who's succeeded in many different things. In this bitter autobiography she tells us that she's never succeeded in making peace with her parents, her father especially, for the mistakes they made in trying to bring her up as a Christian. Everyone thought she had "the Best Dad" a child could have, but when her Dad presumed to judge the soul of a departed friend of hers, her soul shrivelled up into a prickly burr of hate of Protestantism, and Protestants, and men, and families, and no doubt of herself at the core of it all--and she's never grown past being that sad, embittered teenaged girl.

I think Marich needed to write this book but, if she hadn't been borderline famous, an editor would probably have advised her not to print it. And that might have been better for her.

[Karla · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I began to read Jamie's newest book, You Lied to Me About God, I found that I was unable to put it down. Their story resonated with the experiences of so many clients and congregants I have known over the decades. Religious abuse leads to deep wounding; and Spirit-centered practices lead to deep healing. Jamie's personal story is one eloquent illustration of the tenacity of survival to thriving from the lived experiences of religious and intergenerational trauma. Their story intersects with so many marginalized communities as a beacon of hope to the power of perseverance and tenacity to tell one's own story according to one's own terms. This is what liberation and healing can look like.

Rev. Karla Fleshman, LCSW, MDiv

[Judy Corasaniti · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have read "You Lied to Me About God" over a few months. It wasn't a difficult read for me but so much resonated with my story that I wanted to sit with and process as certain thoughts/insights came up. For me, I found the book both captivating and compelling. The stories Jamie shared and the style in which the book was written just flows. The end of each chapter are prompt questions and creative arts opportunities provided useful to integrate/sit with the feelings and memories that may come up. The vulnerability of their stories as well as the descriptiveness were truly empowering. I seldom say that a book is a "must read" yet this is one is a must read in my opinion, it is a book that I believe will impact many lives and impact generations to come in healing, insights and resolution.

[Swapna Peri ( Book Reviews Cafe ) · Rating 4 out of 5]

For people dealing with dissociative identities and survivors of spiritual abuse, "You Lied to Me About God" is a must-read. It provides a clinical perspective that has to be heard more, particularly in the field of dissociation psychotherapy. The book encourages readers to embrace the transformational power of authenticity and discover their genuine selves as a monument to resilience and self-discovery. When they relate their experiences with love, grief, faith, and finding their voice, Author JAmie Marich's vulnerability comes through. Growing up as a highly sensitive, queer child in a mixed Catholic and Evangelical home is described in this extraordinarily bold and honest book.

[Hallelujah Brews Reviews · Rating 2 out of 5]

Did not finish. I typically enjoy memoirs, but I had a very hard time following this one. The timeline for stories was all over the place. The author's use of singular/plural pronouns, sometimes in the same sentence to refer to themselves, made it difficult to read. Many times, I couldn't figure out the point the author was trying to make. I felt like I was reading various unfinished chapters with half thoughts. The author was very vulnerable, and for that, I want to thank the author. Unfortunately, I don't think I was the target audience, or I just had a hard time following what the author was trying to share or communicate.

[Chuck · Rating 4 out of 5]

Unlike a lot of other readers/listeners, I enjoyed the thematic format of her memoir. It was a welcome difference for me that changed up the linear nature of memoirs.
Its always interesting seeing an author start a book by immediately countering the inevitable criticism that will arise out of certain aspects of the readership.
Her bravery in telling her story with many of her family still around is commendable considering all the flack she could get.
There is definitely something in here for everyone. Part of me wished that she would have separated out the coming out story from the spiritual abuse trauma history. I would have liked more substance from each of those topics.

[Marcia - itsabookthing2021 · Rating 4 out of 5]

You Lied To Me About God was an interesting read. I don't read a lot of memoirs or non fiction but I was drawn to this book so when the opportunity arose to read it I grabbed it.
I found it very insightful, the writing felt honest and in a way it was very raw. I felt nothing was held back, the way this book was written didn't feel confrontational and though many of the experiences I hadn't been through I still felt that connection as I was reading. It was like a deeper understanding and when I say this account is raw and emotional, it's because I feel like we got the honest truth from the authors experiences.

[Becca S · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was complicated. It challenged blame to assess the way I approach things and the perspectives I hold, which I appreciate, even if it was uncomfortable. The author and I had many similar experiences in childhood, which also made things hit close to home and I had to read it bits at a time to stay present.
At the end of the day, I can’t say I like the book. And there is a part of me that feels like I will be judged for not loving it or not agreeing with all the points she made. This makes me in some ways feel somewhat similar to the status quo the author seemed to be trying to challenge. Should you skip it? No. Is it one of my top books of the year? Also no.

[Tonya Bryant Gillon · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was an interesting read, the author grew up in a home with two different religions. Her father was very vocal and often times very loudly about his religions. The mother vocal and sometimes very vocal. So the parents caused a great deal of confusion for the author. Who later on life went through a lot of searching to find her way to God in her own rite.

This was a good book, the author is a great writer and made this book very easy to read.

Thank you NetGalley and North Atlantic Books for sending this book for review. All opinions are my own.

[Sarah Isabella · Rating 3 out of 5]

You Lied to Me About God was an interesting read. I did find it difficult to follow along and keep track of things being said by different people as there seems to be a lot of run on sentences with very little punctuation. Getting to read about her experience with growing up in a household with 2 different religions and the trauma that developed was interesting but it's not what I had expected from the description of the book

Thank you NetGalley, the author, and publisher for an ARC in exchange for my honest review