08/29/2025
In the days since James Dobson’s passing, another theme has been surfacing in the stories people are bravely sharing: deconstruction.
For so many who grew up under his teachings, faith was not about love or freedom, but about control. His words were echoed in homes, schools, and churches. Obedience was demanded. Doubt was punished. Individuality was often silenced. For "Strong-willed" and LGBTQ+ kids especially, Dobson’s messaging fueled shame that could feel unbearable. For others, his insistence on corporal punishment meant that their earliest experiences of family love were bound up with fear and pain.
Now, as adults, many are pulling at those threads. They are asking: What parts of my faith were ever mine to begin with? Why did I have to believe that fear was holy, or that love came with punishment? Why was silence considered obedience?
This process of deconstruction is not easy. It is both liberating and heartbreaking. Relief comes in finally naming harm for what it was, but also grief in realizing how much of your life was shaped by someone else’s fear. It means reckoning with depression, anxiety, or a deep sense of disconnection. For many, it feels like standing in the ruins of a faith that was supposed to give life, wondering what can possibly be rebuilt.
But, there is also hope. Deconstruction is not just about tearing down. It is about slowly, carefully, and sometimes painfully, choosing what gets to stay and what no longer has power over you. Deconstruction is about discovering that you are allowed to question, to grieve, to feel angry, and to imagine something better.
This is where therapy can become a lifeline. In therapy, you are not asked to rush past the pain or silence your doubts. Instead, you are given space to sit with hard questions, to name the grief, and to recognize how those old messages shaped your sense of self. Together, we work toward healing the parts of you that were told to hide. Therapy offers the possibility of reclaiming your story and writing it in your own words, not in the script someone else imposed.
To those who are untangling the impact of a Dobson-shaped childhood: you are not alone. Your pain is real. Your story matters. And healing is possible.
This moment, this collective sigh of relief so many are experiencing is proof that voices are rising, shame is loosening its grip, and a different kind of love is beginning to emerge. One not rooted in fear, punishment, or control, but in compassion, truth, and freedom.