Seven months after moving away from the parishes where we were psychologically bullied for almost 5 years, our lives are still dominated by the experience as our minds and bodies struggle daily to survive the psychiatric injuries we have sustained. And, as we sit here thinking how we can write about our experiences, there is the sudden realisation that to go through it all is too much and too soon; the memories are just too painful, too distressing. So what we write below will be incomplete and perhaps confused at times, but we hope we will manage to communicate the destructive power of bullying.

Firstly, who are we? My name is Sue* and my husband's name is Peter*. We are both 41, approaching our 20th wedding anniversary, and have a son aged 18 and a daughter aged 17. We used to be an ordinary couple, far from perfect, but enthusiastic and committed Christians called into ministry. Peter was ordained in the Church of England in 1985, and I became a Reader (voluntary lay minister) a few years later.

It's almost impossible to explain how the bullying started because much of it was very gradual and subtle. We had the misfortune to stumble across two or three people for whom bullying was a way of life. They held positions of leadership within the congregation, leadership which they abused by dominating and controlling everyone around them to the extent of getting rid of those who refused to comply with their order. The bullies alternately used and supported each other.

The process began with friendliness - "we're nice chaps here, look how good life can be for you if you slot in with us". It seemed innocent enough at first, a friendly welcome into ministry in a new area and knowledgeable support during the early months. One of the bullies did come across as rather overbearing at times, whilst another was clearly very deeply attached to the old services and hymns, but all churches have people like that and there was nothing to indicate the abuse that was to follow.

Yet follow it did. It began with vaguely critical comments made (pleasantly enough) at meetings etc, which on their own sounded harmless and too trivial to answer, but which subtly began to undermine other people's respect for us and our ministry. No doubt this was backed up with similar comments behind our backs. Then there were the continual nit-picking remarks addressed to us privately which began, almost imperceptibly at first, to chip away at our self-confidence.

We began to lose our joy in ministry and started getting very tired. At this point the pressure on us was increased. The criticism was strengthened - Peter wasn't working hard enough, he didn't do enough visiting, our sermons weren't intellectual enough, we were too rigid about taking days off, and on and on. Then the shouting and the threats began, which in our already weakened state, we just couldn't handle. The attacks became more intense and focused on our partnership; as I was the easier partner to get rid of, all attempts were made to discredit me and to portray me as the cause of all the problems. By this time I was hardly coping and had to withdraw from ministry, much to the delight of the bullies.

I was suffering from acute reactive depression (and many other psychiatric injuries, though I didn't know it at the time). Still the pressure continued and there were attempts to persuade Peter that he was better off without me as a Reader alongside him; the pressure was so great that our marriage nearly broke down. Inevitably, it all became too much for Peter too and he was signed off sick for the next six months. The bullies delighted in their triumph!

Those six months were hell. We were both exhausted, on medication and barely coping with the bare essentials of survival. Yet many members of the congregation seemed to believe we were having a glorified holiday. One member of the congregation offered to help with driving our children to school, another offered help with shopping, but that was it. In six months of illness hardly anyone visited us, and no-one cooked us a meal or even brought us a cake. Living next door to the church only accentuated the pain.

What was the support from the Diocese in all of this? Well, the Diocesan Care & Counselling Scheme paid for independent counselling, and initially our Archdeacon had been understanding, but then he retired. Other than that - well, we were blamed for what had happened, and told to pull ourselves together and face up to the real world. Peter was told to get on with the job he was being paid to do - "you can't just opt out every time things get difficult!" Some terrible things were said to us by the Bishop, and I sometimes wonder if I'll ever get over them. I came very close to committing suicide at that time.

After six months Peter was forced to return to work, though he was not able to work anything like full-time for another 6 months. We were both treated like people who'd done something terribly wrong, and I wasn't allowed to resume ministry. We were accused of being unforgiving and unspiritual, when in reality we were severely damaged people. I eventually stopped going to church altogether, but Peter had to struggle on or lose his job - and with it our home (a tied house) and only source of income. It was absolute hell - Peter couldn't even get another job to get us out of there because he wasn't well enough!

The inevitable eventually happened. Peter had another stress breakdown 15 months ago and has been unable to work ever since. It was still another 8 months before we were able to move away from the parish. In that time he applied for, and was refused, a disability pension. Eventually, the only option left was for him to agree to resign from paid ministry for good (though he remains a priest) in return for temporary support and housing provision from the Diocese. Still the Bishop denied that we'd been bullied and still he blamed us; this denial is even more painful than the bullying.

So where are we now? Well, relieved to have moved away obviously, but we are both still exhausted, still unable to work, and with no idea what we will do to survive in the future. We are too terrified to go near a church, and even television services trigger a state of complete panic. (You will no doubt have noticed that none of the above mentions God - the pain of doing so is too much because of the things that have been done 'in God's name'.) We are both suffering from psychiatric injuries, and my symptoms have been diagnosed as being very similar to post-traumatic stress disorder. We are both terrified of meeting people, and I am unable to go out alone. We are constantly on edge, sleep badly and find it very hard to concentrate. We very rarely see anyone and our injuries have prevented us from going out and finding any friends here.

We will probably recover eventually, at least to some degree, but we are told it is likely to take years rather than months. (The National Health Service has been considerably more supportive than the Church.) Whether we will ever feel able to go to church again - or whether we will ever want to go again - we just don't know. Meanwhile, Peter's former parish has just appointed his replacement and it seems that life continues there as if we'd never existed!

Writing this hurt like hell, and was altogether too much for Peter. But we hope it helps people to realise just how destructive bullying can be.

* Names have been changed.