There’s a moment that stands out in my healing journey—a quiet evening when I caught my reflection in the mirror and realised how long I’d been fighting a war with my own body. For years, I’d been trying to shrink myself, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually too. The way I saw my body had been shaped by deeply ingrained messages from my religious upbringing: messages that my body was sinful, my desires were shameful, and my identity was something to suppress.
That moment wasn’t a grand epiphany, but it was a turning point. I remember thinking, I can’t keep living like this. Slowly, I started unlearning the narratives that had held me captive for so long. I began to see my body as something worth loving, not something to hide, punish, or fix.
If you’ve ever experienced high-control religion, you might know this struggle. Harmful teachings about the body are a cornerstone of many religious systems—tools to maintain control, enforce conformity, and suppress individuality. But the truth? Your body isn’t the enemy. It’s your home. And reclaiming it is one of the most powerful acts of resistance and healing.
Let’s explore some of the harmful teachings you may have encountered, the truths that counter them, and how you can take practical steps toward reclaiming your body.
Your Body is Not Inherently Sinful
One of the first messages I internalised as a young person was that my body was inherently sinful—prone to temptation and failure, a constant reminder of my supposed “fallen nature.” Whether it was being told that my flesh was weak or hearing Bible verses twisted into shame-inducing mantras, the result was the same: I grew disconnected from my body, viewing it as an obstacle to holiness.
Over time, I realised that this narrative wasn’t just wrong—it was damaging. The idea that our bodies are inherently bad creates a deep rift between who we are and how we live. It teaches us to mistrust our instincts, suppress our emotions, and feel guilt simply for existing.
The truth is that your body is inherently good. It’s not a vessel of sin or shame; it’s a living, breathing testament to your humanity. It carries you through life, holds your experiences, and connects you to the world.
Practical Tip: Start by reconnecting with your body in small, affirming ways. That might mean taking a walk and noticing how your legs carry you, or placing a hand on your chest and feeling your heartbeat. These simple acts remind you that your body is a source of life, not a source of shame.
Sexuality is Not Dangerous
In the religious spaces I was in, sexuality was painted as dangerous. Basically, it was something to fear, suppress, or control. Desire was always framed as temptation, and any expression of it outside rigid confines was a moral failure. For queer people, this message is doubly harmful, casting our very existence as sinful.
I spent years carrying this fear, believing that my feelings were wrong and my identity was broken. It wasn’t until I began unlearning these messages that I discovered the beauty in my sexuality. I realised that my desires weren’t something to conquer; they were a part of me to honour.
The truth is that sexuality—whatever form it takes—is natural and beautiful. It’s a source of connection, joy, and authenticity. Letting go of the shame around it doesn’t make you less spiritual or less good; it makes you more whole.
Practical Tip: Reflect on your own relationship with your sexuality. If shame arises, ask yourself where that shame comes from. Journaling or speaking with a queer-affirming therapist can help you untangle the harmful narratives and begin to embrace this part of yourself.
Your Body Belongs to You
In high-control religious spaces, I was taught that my body wasn’t really mine. It belonged to God, the church, and eventually a future spouse. This teaching stripped me of autonomy and made me feel like my choices about my own body weren’t truly mine to make.
Reclaiming my body as my own was a radical shift. It meant learning to trust myself, to listen to what I wanted and needed, and to stop outsourcing decisions about my body to external authorities. I found the process challenging—especially after learning that questioning authority was akin to rebellion. But it was necessary.
Your body belongs to you. Not to God, not to a spouse, not to anyone else. You are the only person who gets to decide what happens to it.
Practical Tip: Begin practicing autonomy in small ways. This could mean asserting boundaries with others or making a decision about your body—what you wear, how you move, or what you eat—that is entirely your own.
Modesty is Not Your Responsibility to Others
I can’t count the number of times I was told that my clothing choices could cause someone else to sin. It placed an unbearable burden on me, specifically making me feel like my body was dangerous and that it was my job to make sure others didn’t see it in the “wrong” way.
This teaching is not only harmful; it’s untrue. You are not responsible for managing other people’s thoughts or behaviours. Your body is not a temptation, and it doesn’t need to be hidden to make others comfortable.
Practical Tip: Wear something that makes you feel good in your own skin. When old guilt-driven thoughts creep in, remind yourself: “My body is not a problem to solve, and I am allowed to take up space.”
Your Identity is Valid
For those of us in the LGBTQIA+ community, religious teachings about the body often went hand in hand with messages of rejection. Told that my identity was unnatural, sinful, and something to repent for. These messages ran so deep that, for years, I internalised them—seeing my queerness as a flaw to fix.
Healing meant learning to embrace my identity as a vital, beautiful part of who I am. It meant recognising that I am not broken, and that my queerness is a gift.
Practical Tip: Seek out spaces that affirm your identity. Whether that’s a queer-affirming church, an online community, or a supportive friend group, surrounding yourself with acceptance can help drown out the harmful messages you’ve internalised.
Joy and Pleasure Are Your Birthrights
In the religious world I grew up in, self-denial was framed as the ultimate virtue. Enjoying my body—whether through food, rest, or pleasure—was seen as indulgent at best and sinful at worst.
But joy and pleasure are not selfish; they are life-giving. Reclaiming my right to feel good in my body has been one of the most healing parts of my journey. Whether it’s the warmth of the sun on my skin, the rhythm of a song I love, or the simple act of resting when I’m tired, these moments are sacred.
Practical Tip: Find one small way to nurture joy or pleasure in your life today. It could be as simple as savouring your favourite meal, stretching your body, or watching a sunset. Allow yourself to feel the goodness of those moments without guilt.
Coming Home to Yourself
Reclaiming your body after years of harmful teachings is a deeply personal and profoundly transformative journey. It’s not about perfection or rushing to “fix” what’s been done. It’s about coming home to yourself—piece by piece, moment by moment.
For me, this process has been messy, non-linear, and undoubtedly full of hard questions. But it’s also been full of joy, liberation, and connection. I’ve learned to listen to my body instead of silencing it, to celebrate it instead of shaming it, and to live fully in it instead of trying to escape it.
Your body is good, Your identity is valid, Your joy is sacred.
As you take steps to reclaim your body, remember this: you are not alone. There is a whole community of people—myself included—walking this path alongside you. Healing is possible. Freedom is possible. And you are so, so worth it.
If this journey resonates with you—if you’re unlearning the narratives that have kept you disconnected from your body, your identity, or your sense of self—you don’t have to navigate it alone. Healing from religious trauma is messy and tender, but it’s also deeply freeing. Together, we can explore those heavy stories, challenge the shame they’ve left behind, and build a foundation of safety, self-trust, and belonging.
Whether you’re just beginning to untangle the impact of your past or are looking for support in embracing your authentic self, I’m here to walk alongside you.
When you’re ready, reach out. You deserve to feel whole again.
You can contact me here.