When Holidays Hurt: A Personal Reflection on Easter as a Survivor of family controlled human trafficking and Organized Abuse

Holidays are hard. That’s just the truth—for many survivors, including myself. As someone who lived through family-controlled human trafficking that included ritual abuse - as it often does- I know what it feels like to dread the arrival of certain dates on the calendar. Easter is one of those times.

For most people, Easter might mean family gatherings, pastel colors, and celebrations of renewal and hope. But for me—and for many others with similar trauma histories—this season can bring a flood of triggers, memories, and emotional overwhelm that’s difficult to explain.

The Reality of Ritual Abuse

Ritual abuse isn’t just something you read about in the darkest corners of the internet. It’s real. I survived it. MANY others have, too. We know this because of the prevalence of it seen in far too many images of child sexual abuse materials - commonly referred to as child pornography.

It’s often systematic, organized, and hidden in plain sight—inflicted under the guise of religious practice or distorted belief systems. The symbols, language, and rituals connected to holidays like Easter were not neutral or comforting in my childhood. They were weaponized.

Even now, as someone who has worked hard to reclaim her healing and agency, I feel the weight in my chest as Easter approaches. It’s not about being stuck in the past—it’s about honoring how trauma is stored in the body and how easily it can be reactivated by sights, sounds, smells, or even well-meaning traditions.

What Survivors Might Be Carrying Right Now

You might not see it, but so many survivors are quietly enduring this season. We’re trying to breathe through the flashbacks. Trying to ground ourselves when the world feels unsafe. Trying to hold space for the child we once were while parenting, working, or simply surviving today.

And it’s not just ritual abuse survivors. Any survivor of trauma can find holidays overwhelming—especially when they’re tied to complicated family dynamics, religious institutions, or expectations to “celebrate.”

How You Can Support a Survivor During the Holidays

If you love someone who carries trauma like this, there are things you can do that truly make a difference. Here’s what I wish more people understood:

• Respect our boundaries.
  If we need to skip the gathering or say no to a tradition, please don’t take it personally. Sometimes safety means saying no—even to good people and good things.

• Believe us.
  If we choose to share even a piece of our story, believe us. It’s not easy to speak about things that most of the world still denies or dismisses.

• Help reduce triggers.
  Ask what might make the space feel safer. That could mean avoiding certain religious language, changing the music, or choosing a different kind of get-together altogether.

• Offer care without expectations.
  A check-in text. A warm meal. A walk outside. Simple gestures show us we matter and aren’t forgotten in our pain.

• Be willing to learn.
  Survivors shouldn’t have to carry the full weight of educating others. Your willingness to understand more about ritual and organized abuse goes a long way.

You Don’t Have to Have the Perfect Words—Just Show Up With Care

I don’t write this to take away anyone’s joy or celebration. I write it to make space for the survivors who feel invisible during these times. I write it for the younger version of me who needed someone to say, “I see you. I believe you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. It doesn’t always look like progress. And it doesn’t take a break for the holidays.

So this Easter, and every day, let’s make room for the full truth. For the grief that lives alongside the joy. For the survivors who are still here—still standing—even when it hurts.

With love and solidarity,
Kait