Reclaiming the Sacred: Tamara’s Story and the Power Within Us All

I want to talk to you about self-love today—and what it really looks like when you’ve truly found it.

Over a year ago, I met someone who forever changed me. Her name is Tamara, and she is one of the most incredible human beings I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. A beautiful soul raised in a high-control religion, Tamara endured unimaginable harm in a place that claimed to be sacred.

She was married to a man who physically tortured her. He abused her and her children—not just physically, but emotionally, psychologically, spiritually. And it wasn’t just her husband. Her church, the very place that should have offered safety, facilitated that abuse. The elders ignored her cries. When she went to them for help—bruised, broken, desperate—they shunned her. They protected her abuser.

One day, in that very church parking lot, her husband beat her while the elders stood there and did nothing. Nothing.

This wasn’t just any church. It was a high-control Pentecostal church where women were expected to obey without question. They weren’t allowed to wear makeup. Their hair had to be worn in “glory rolls.” They were told that their bodies, their voices, and even their thoughts belonged to their husbands—and to the church. Purity culture reigned. Silence was demanded. And suffering was sanctified.

To leave such an environment wasn’t just brave. It was dangerous. It was rebellion.

So when Tamara fled—with three babies and a bag of clothes for each—she wasn’t just walking away from a man. She was walking away from everything she had ever known. From her community. From the only form of “God” she’d ever been taught. From the structure that had told her, over and over again, that she was unworthy and that her pain didn’t matter.

It takes extraordinary courage to leave the familiar, even when the familiar is killing you. But Tamara did. And she didn’t just leave—she rebuilt. She went to college. She became a social worker. She devoted her life to serving those with disabilities—people, like her, who had been failed by the systems meant to protect them.

She began to heal. To grow. To love herself. To teach her children something different—something freer, something more whole. But there was still one final act of reclamation she hadn’t yet made.

And then, yesterday, she did something astonishing.

She walked back into that same old church.
That same place that once held her hostage.
That place where the monsters lived.

But this time was different. She wasn’t the same woman they once knew.

She walked in wearing glitter makeup and a “Jezebel” necklace—the very things she had once been told would send her straight to hell. Her presence was a sermon of resistance. Her style was a hymn of survival. Her body, once shamed and silenced, now radiated power.

She sat quietly in the back, obeying their rules, making no scene. But the moment they saw her—really saw her—they panicked. They didn’t walk out the main sanctuary doors. They scattered. They fled out the side doors like roaches when the lights come on.

Because Tamara wasn’t the same woman anymore.

The monsters who once made her tremble now trembled at the sight of her.

She walked into that place with her head held high, shoulders back, and soul on fire. And in doing so, she reclaimed every part of herself that had been stolen. She took back her story, her worth, her power.

And here’s the part I want you to really hear:

You can do this too.

• You are capable of this kind of strength.
• You are worthy of this kind of healing.
• You are not what the patriarchy said you were.
• You are not too much or not enough.
• You are not dirty or broken or damaged.

You are sacred.
You are powerful.
You are whole.

This post is just the beginning. Next week, I’m going to tell you how you can begin reclaiming your voice, your strength, your freedom—just like Tamara did. We’re going to talk about what healing looks like in real time, and how to stand in your own authority, no matter who told you that you weren’t allowed to.

Because they don’t get to define you anymore.

You do.

If Tamara’s story moved something inside of you—if it reminded you of your own story or stirred a longing to reclaim your power—I want you to know that you’re not alone. Come back next week. Bring your journal, your questions, your rage, your hope. We’re going to walk through this together.

And remember: the most powerful thing you can ever do… is come home to yourself.