When Boundaries Are Breached: A Christian Reflection on Unwanted Touch and Taking Back Your Space

Have you ever said “no”—not with anger or accusation, but with clarity—only to be ignored?

It’s a deeply unsettling experience when someone you’ve been vulnerable with chooses to disregard your boundaries. It’s even more confusing when they do so with a smile or a joke, making light of something that felt violating to you.

Recently, after allowing my husband, of whom I am currently separated, to help with a physical task around the house, I found myself in a moment that reopened an old wound. He had previously crossed lines emotionally, and during this brief visit, he crossed one physically. He touched me without invitation, in a way that was intimate, uninvited, and deeply inappropriate.

I said, “Don’t do that.”
He chuckled and said, “Why?”
I didn’t answer.

Not because I didn’t have an answer—oh, I did. But I was exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. I was too tired to explain again what I’ve explained for years: my body is not yours to access casually. Not jokingly. Not because we once shared space or love or life.

False Intimacy Isn’t Love

Sometimes the most confusing boundary breaches come cloaked in charm. There’s no anger. No overt aggression. Just a subtle assumption that your body, your space, your comfort—is negotiable.

But it’s not. And here’s the truth: Touch without consent is not affection—it’s entitlement. That wasn’t flirtation. That wasn’t love. That was a violation of my body, my boundaries, and my dignity.

The same person who couldn’t hear me when I shared my pain… who couldn’t sit with my letter… who has said I’m “too sensitive”… felt entitled to touch me when my back was turned.

This isn’t about being unforgiving or bitter. It’s about recognizing when behavior is harmful—even if it’s wrapped in a smile or a helping hand.

 “Love… does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” —1 Corinthians 13:5

The God who made me… the One who calls me beloved… says my body is His temple.

And the truth is—I’m still learning to believe that. Because until now, I haven’t seen my body as sacred.

It’s felt more like a dumping ground for other people’s anger, their lust, or their entitlement.

When the Covenant is Misused

So yes, I’m setting boundaries. Not to rebel—but to allow for healing to take place. For most of my life I have experienced family violence, to boyfriends hitting me or pushing themselves on me, the result is I’ve become hyper-vigilant. I startle easily, and unexpected touches are neither pleasant nor appreciated and keep me in a state of hyper-vigilance. What my husband might see as innocent flirting—or believe is acceptable because of our legal marriage covenant—is yet another broken boundary.

The truth is I can’t just put these past experiences on a shelf and walk away.

Unprocessed trauma doesn’t disappear—it settles into the body, making us wary, alert, bracing for the next boundary to be crossed.

Unexpected touches are neither pleasant nor appreciated.

For those of us who carry these wounds, an uninvited hand isn’t romantic—it’s jarring. It’s unwelcome.

Because when your history has taught you that touch can equal harm, even a smile can feel unsafe.

But the God who made me, who calls me beloved, says my body is His temple. And I’m learning to believe that. Because until now, I haven’t felt like my body was anything more than a dumping ground for other people’s anger, lust or entitlement.

Claiming Your Sacred Space

When someone repeatedly crosses your boundaries—physical or emotional—it’s not love. It’s control disguised as closeness.

“Do not give dogs what is holy; do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you.” —Matthew 7:6

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit…?” —1 Corinthians 6:19

A Symbol of Safety

Later that evening, a new lock was installed on the front door. Not as a punishment. Not as revenge. But as a restoration. It was a symbol. A declaration. A decision to say, this far and no farther.

A physical reminder that access to your me is a privilege, not a given. And when someone has shown repeated disregard, they lose that privilege.

Not out of hate. But out of health.

Final Reflection

Boundaries are not walls of bitterness—they’re doors of discernment. They say, “I love you, but I won’t allow harm disguised as affection to enter anymore.”

If someone doesn’t respect your no, believe them. If they laugh off your discomfort, pay attention. You do not need permission to feel violated. And you do not owe access to someone who misuses your peace.

“The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.” —Proverbs 22:3

You are not too sensitive.
You are not bitter.
You are becoming whole.