From Shame to Sacred: Reclaiming My Voice, My Truth, My Body

Trigger Warning: This post includes experiences related to emotional and sexual boundary violations. Please take care while reading.

In 2004, I was fourteen years old when I received a scholarship to study in Singapore. It was a dream I had clung to with all my heart—my way out of Vietnam, a place where I had long felt stifled and out of place. My family didn’t have the means to send me abroad, but I promised my parents I would find a scholarship, and I did. With nothing but hope and a suitcase of dreams, I left everything behind and stepped into a new world.

As a minor in a foreign country, I needed to live with a legal guardian. The arrangement placed me in the home of a pastor and his family. On paper, it sounded safe—he was a man of faith, his wife devout, and Singapore itself was known for its structure and order. But not everything that appears safe on the outside reflects the truth within.

Their home was not warm or welcoming. I was often met with passive-aggressive comments, shamed for simple things like enjoying my food. Once, when I gnawed on a pork bone at dinner, I was compared to a dog. Another time, she accused me of being a “wolf in sheep’s clothing.” These subtle jabs chipped away at my sense of self. I didn’t understand why I was being targeted, but I felt the hostility deeply.

When I turned 16, the family moved to a new home. I helped them pack and carry things up to the 10th floor. During one elevator trip, I was alone with the pastor. He looked at me strangely, and said, “You’re 16 now, your body is becoming very womanly.”

His words froze me. They felt wrong, but I didn’t understand how or why. I brushed it off, trying not to make a scene.

Later that day, when the house was nearly empty and only the maid and I were present, he offered me a shot of herbal liquor from the kitchen. He insisted gently but firmly, telling me it was good for my health. I didn’t yet understand that my tendency to please others—so deeply ingrained from childhood—was a survival response.

The liquor hit me hard. I felt dizzy, disoriented, and vulnerable. He touched my shoulders, tried to support me. I was terrified. But the universe intervened. My boyfriend at the time, concerned when I didn’t answer his calls, came looking for me. When he saw me in that vulnerable position, he pulled me away and helped me to safety. I was lucky. So lucky.

After that, I knew I had to leave. But what I remember most from that time is not just the fear—it was the guilt, the shame, and the haunting thought that somehow, I was to blame. I told my mom. She dismissed it. I told a friend. She doubted me. I told myself to be quiet.

Eventually, I listened to my intuition and left that house. I ran away to a friend’s home—the only place I thought I might be safe.For weeks, I lived in fear—afraid I would be reported as a runaway, afraid I would be deported back to a country where I never felt like I belonged. The woman had once told me I was “bad,” and now a part of me began to believe her. I felt like a problem, like I carried something wrong inside me.

This trauma ran deep. It wounded my sense of safety and shattered my trust in authority figures. I developed subconscious beliefs that the world was not safe, that I had to constantly be on guard, that being seen meant being harmed. These beliefs manifested as blocked root, sacral, throat, and heart chakras—energy centers related to safety, emotions, expression, and love.

The Wounds That Followed

Root Chakra: I felt ungrounded, anxious, unable to relax or feel safe in my own body.
Sacral Chakra: I disconnected from pleasure, joy, and trust in my body. I feared intimacy and found it difficult to fully relax, even in safe relationships.
Throat Chakra: I became soft-spoken, afraid to speak up, always the last to share an opinion. I feared being judged or not believed.
Heart Chakra: I closed off to love, afraid of vulnerability, afraid to fully trust or let myself be loved without condition.

In the early years of my marriage, this affected our intimacy and emotional connection. But I am deeply blessed that my husband—my twin flame—is kind, patient, and respectful. He gave me space to heal, and together we are learning how to love through the wounds.

The Healing Journey: Rebuilding from the Root

My healing has not been fast or linear. I’ve had relapses, moments of deep shame and emotional outbursts. I numbed myself with smoking and drinking during my teenage years. There were nights I didn’t want to continue living. But something always kept me holding on—maybe it was the light I saw in the few people who truly cared. Maybe it was the hope I would one day be able to help others.

I’ve now reclaimed many pieces of myself through these modalities:

Trauma-informed yoga: Instead of pushing through poses, I now move gently with my body’s rhythms. I cry when I need to. I rest when I must.
Chakra healing: I chant “LAM” for my root, “VAM” for my sacral, “HAM” for my throat, and “YAM” for my heart. Sound moves through the stuckness.
Feminine embodiment practices: Taking beautiful, sensual baths with flowers, essential oils, and music. Speaking affirmations while touching my body gently: “I love you. You are safe now. I trust you.”
Inner child meditation: I visualize my 16-year-old self and whisper, “You were never wrong. You were never bad. I believe you.”
Support from spirit: I call on Mary Magdalene, Lady Quan Yin, Mother Gaia, and my angels to wrap me in the motherly love I didn’t receive. I ask for their guidance to stay patient with my healing.

A Letter to My Younger Self

Dear 16-year-old me,

I’m so sorry you were alone in that house. I’m so sorry no one believed you. You were not wrong to feel scared. You were not too sensitive. You were not a “bad girl.”

You were brave. You saved yourself. You followed your intuition, even when the world tried to silence you. I am so proud of you.

You don’t have to carry the shame anymore. That shame was never yours.

You are not broken. You are healing.

I love you.

Forever and always,

If You Are Healing Too…

Please know: healing takes time. It’s okay to feel like you’re taking five steps forward and three steps back. That’s still movement. That’s still growth.

Give yourself grace. Be gentle. Surround yourself with light. Call on your guides. Listen to the intuitive whispers. And most importantly, never shame yourself for your pain.

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