What I Did With The Scarlet Letter On My Chest

The tile under my feet was cold. My house was quiet. The girls were asleep upstairs. I had just taken a long, hot shower and put on a silky robe—one I bought but was saving for “special” occasions, back when I thought beauty only counted if someone else witnessed it.

I looked in my mirror. And I stopped.

Not because I was blown away by what I saw, but because I saw her—me—clearly, maybe for the first time in years.

Fresh-faced. Slim. Feminine.

And completely, utterly… alone.

Here I was, finally beautiful in the way I’d always hoped I’d become.

And yet, no one was around to see it. No partner. No admirers. No audience. Just me and the weight of everything I had just survived.

The truth is, I had been through hell for a decade.

A marriage that left me spiritually and emotionally empty.

A scandal that turned my life upside down and left me carrying what felt like a giant scarlet letter on my chest.

A wave of judgment and rejection so fierce, I thought it might crush me.

And beneath it all—the quiet, terrifying truth—I had no idea how I was going to support myself and my two daughters.

People wanted me to disappear.

Shrink. Sit in the corner and suffer.

There was this unspoken expectation that because I’d made “mistakes,” I should pay for them by forfeiting my joy, my light, and any future I might’ve dreamed of.

But that night, looking at myself in the mirror…

I knew I couldn’t let that be the story.

I wasn’t going to hand my life over to shame.

Because shrinking wasn’t going to heal me.

And it sure as hell wasn’t going to lead my daughters toward freedom.

So I stood there, wrapped in silk, and I asked myself the questions that changed everything:

Can I really love myself—even now?

Can I forgive myself for what I didn’t know then?

Can I hold my head up high when the world wants me to bow it in shame?

And the answer, though shaky, was yes.

That moment in the mirror wasn’t about accepting my appearance. It was about reclaiming my soul.

It was about courage.

It was about standing in the rubble of everything that had broken and still choosing to rise.

If you’ve ever found yourself in that place—caught between who you were and who you’re becoming, afraid to be seen but even more afraid to stay hidden—I created my Fearless Fashion Workshop for you.

After that night, something shifted. I didn’t “arrive” all at once—but I started dressing for myself. Not to prove anything. Not to seduce or impress. Just to feel like me again.

I wore the perfume.

Put on the lipstick.

Pulled out the clothes I’d stuffed in the back of the closet for “someday.”

And with every little act of adornment, I was healing.

If this is resonating, and you’re not quite ready for the full coaching container, my Self-Expression Through Fashion: Guided Journal is a powerful way to start.

But if you’re feeling like I was that night—tender, cracked open, and ready to start again…

Then let’s go deeper.

You don’t need to hide anymore.

You don’t need to earn your way back to beauty.

You just need to come home to you.

And I’ll be right here when you’re ready!