From the time I was a little girl, I was taught to share, to put others first, to care for my family, and never be selfish. Those are beautiful values, but no one ever taught me that protecting my own peace mattered too.
Instead, I learned that being a “good woman” meant sacrifice.
My family had expectations.
My faith had expectations.
My culture had expectations.
Society had expectations.
Somewhere along the way, everyone seemed to have an opinion about who I should become, except me.
Ironically, I wasn’t always this way.
As a child, I was labeled “rebellious.” I questioned rules that didn’t make sense. I challenged ideas I believed were unfair. As a young woman, I spoke up when I saw misogyny in the church or when elders expected my silence simply because I was young.
Looking back now, I realize I wasn’t rebellious at all.
I was fighting for myself.
Unfortunately, over time, that fight became exhausting.
When you’re constantly told you’re difficult, disrespectful, ungrateful, or “backslidden” for thinking differently, you eventually begin to wonder if they’re right. Little by little, I traded my voice for acceptance.
Until one day, I realized I was disappearing.
Sometimes life whispers that something is wrong.
Sometimes it has to knock you over the head.
For me, it was my marriage.
I entered marriage believing I was building a life with one man, only to discover years later that I had unknowingly been living in a polygamous relationship. The betrayal was devastating.
When I first learned about the affair, I stayed.
We went to counseling.
We rebuilt.
We were baptized again.
I prayed harder.
I forgave.
Not only because I loved him, but because every system around me told me that was what a good Christian wife should do.
“God hates divorce.”
“Forgive seventy times seven.”
“The children need their father.”
“Keep your family together.”
Those voices became louder than my own.
I convinced myself that enduring more pain somehow made me more faithful. That suffering was holiness. That sacrificing myself was God’s expectation.
It wasn’t.
It nearly destroyed me.
I knew that first time that I would not forgive another affair. Something inside me began to change. So, when another affair occurred years later, I looked inward.
For the first time, I didn’t ask everyone else what I should do.
I sat quietly with myself.
Months later, when I finally shared my decision, I hoped someone would simply ask, “How are you?” “I understand” “How can I help you?” “What do you need?”
Instead, I was told to stay.
To be a martyr for Christ.
To think about my image.
To think about what other women would think.
Once again, everyone seemed concerned with preserving the system.
No one seemed concerned with preserving me.
That was the moment everything became clear.
Choosing peace sometimes requires walking away; not because you stopped loving people, but because you finally started loving yourself.
So I walked away.
From the marriage.
From the church.
From the community.
From the expectations.
From every version of myself that had been built to make everyone else comfortable.
I moved hours away, changed my phone number, started over in a new city, and found something I hadn’t heard in years.
My own voice.
The little girl everyone called rebellious was still there. It wasn’t rebellion at all. I was a little girl that wanted to think for myself and to question the ideals I was being presented with.
She had simply been waiting for permission to speak again.
Six years later, I’m still learning what it means to own my peace. It isn’t about becoming selfish. It isn’t about shutting people out.
It’s about recognizing that peace is not something others give you.
It’s something you choose.
That choice gave birth to ShayMarie Unfiltered.
This space exists for every woman who has ever been told she is too much, too loud, too emotional, too independent, too opinionated, or simply too different.
My hope is that these stories remind you that your voice matters.
Your boundaries matter.
Your healing matters.
And most importantly, Your peace matters.
Own Your Peace.
If this conversation resonated with you, Let Them Let Me by Aria Coren explores a similar idea: allowing others to make their choices while recognizing the power you have in making your own. It’s a book we recommend for anyone learning to protect their peace without trying to control the people around them.
Explore why we recommend Let Them Let Me →
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