Finding the Boy Who Wasn’t Broken
A True Story of Shame and Healing. Rediscovering Innocence Through Naturism
Every now and then, something shows up in our inbox that makes us stop what we’re doing and just sit there for a minute. It isn’t a quick skim and reply. It isn’t a “we’ll answer this later” kind of note. It is one of those messages you read slowly, then read again, and then look at each other without saying much because the weight of it actually landed. That happened to us recently.
A reader named Kevin… another Kevin, which I’m taking as a sign of excellent taste… wrote to share his life story and why our writing has mattered to him. This wasn’t just a “thanks for the blog” note. It was a full, deeply personal account of childhood trauma, shame, addiction, faith, recovery, and eventually finding a hard-won peace with himself and his body.
By the time we reached the end of his email, I had that very obvious “I’m not emotional, I just need to blink a lot” look going on. Corin, of course, called it out immediately. Subtlety has never been my strength, and she has a built-in radar for when I’m trying to act tougher than I feel.
We sat there in the quiet on the couch, both of us feeling the gravity of what he’d shared. It is one thing to put words out into the digital void and hope they mean something to someone, but it is an entirely different thing to realize those words are being read by people who are navigating the deepest, darkest parts of their own histories.
The Weight of the “Good Kid” Mask
What struck us wasn’t just the difficulty of what he went through, although his story started with a level of pain that is hard to even process. He spoke about growing up in a legalistic Christian environment in Saskatoon where the rules were clear, but the safety wasn’t.
After experiencing childhood sexual assault at age seven from an older kid in his neighborhood, he spent decades carrying a secret weight of shame that convinced him he was dirty, unlovable, and fundamentally broken. The older kid told him that if he ever told anyone, they would know that he was disgusting, shameful and guilty.
He didn’t process it then, but from that moment on, he was terrified by authority figures. Instead of coming home from playing with his friends through the front door… he would sneak through the garage to see if his dad’s car was home. He didn’t understand why his dad was scary, but he realizes now that he was convinced he was unlovable and was terrified that the head of the family, his own father… would see it. So he avoided him.
While most kids his age were blissfully ignorant of sexuality, he had lost his innocence. He believed the human body was shameful.
For years, he lived a double life. He was the “good Christian kid” on the outside, but inside, he was convinced that if anyone really saw him, they’d be repulsed. That internal fracture led to a career in ministry where he felt like a fraud every single day.
He also shared how he climbed to 300 pounds, refusing to care for his body, and was self-medicating with alcohol and drugs. Over the years, he forced himself to forget what had happened. He eventually married and had two amazing sons. He was loved… but refused to live like it. Even though he tried to “forget” the trauma, there was always a voice deep inside whispering that he was disgusting.
It’s a heavy thing to realize that for many people, the clothes we wear aren’t just fashion… they are armor we use to hide a self we’ve been taught to hate.
Grace in the Provincial Park
The part of his story that really got us… the part where I think Corin and I both felt a lump in our throats… was how he described his turning point. It wasn’t some polished, cinematic moment of clarity in a church pew. It was messy, human, and honestly, a bit hilarious in that way life has of forcing us into growth when we least expect it.
After reclaiming his physical health through a fitness challenge, he went on a fishing trip to Pinehurst Lake. As he tells it, he was “hammered”… his words… and ended up losing his balance while barbecuing and put his hand on a burning grill. In his inebriated state, his only thought was to get into cold water. When he couldn’t find his swim trunks, the combination of alcohol… and new confidence that usually comes with it… led him to do something he’d never done…
The catch was… he’d forgotten how far their campsite was from the water. On most camping trips he was set up right beside the shore. But on this occasion, he was far from it. He ended up staggering from the furthest point in the campground through a crowded provincial recreation area at dinner time on a Canada Day long weekend… completely naked.
And that’s the story of his first ever skinny dip!
When he woke up the next morning… he was mortified. He expected the RCMP to show up and haul away the campground’s drunk naked guy. But instead, he found that no one was upset. People greeted him by name. They’d had a great time with him. Apparently he spent the entire evening in his birthday suit visiting with everyone who would have him. He sang campfire songs with people. He ate and drank and had a wonderful time. Most people said it was like watching an innocent little kid running around in his birthday suit, blissfully unaware they were naked. And for the first time since he was seven years old… he felt innocent. He felt whole.
That word “innocence” is what stayed with us. In our society, we associate nudity with something sexual or provocative. But for this reader, being seen exactly as he was… without the layers of clothing, the ministry titles, or the “good kid” mask… was the very thing that broke the power of the shame he’d carried for all those years. He realized the world didn’t collapse because they saw his body. He realized he wasn’t “dirty.” He was just a man… and he was still loved.
From that day on, wilderness adventures were done naked if the weather permitted. He would park the car, disappear down a cut line on Crown Land, hang his clothes on a tree branch and enjoy the sunshine and the breeze. His self medicating began to taper off and he became more present. His wife encouraged him to seek out community with other like minded (and similarly clothed) people. After learning there was a naturist beach just outside of Edmonton, he went there after work on a Friday for his first visit. He returned on Saturday… then Sunday. And on Monday… he called in sick to go back again.
His family now does clothing optional camping trips in the summer. He has dealt with the sexual abuse he suffered and is now clean and sober. In his own words… “I’m a very present husband, father and grandpa. I am surrounded by weirdos… people I would never have chosen to interact with back when I was hiding.”
More Than Just a Naturist Story
When we first reached out to Kevin about sharing this, he was very clear about one thing… this isn’t primarily a naturism story. To him, this is a story of grace and a relationship with what he calls a living Savior.
He wanted us to make sure that the spiritual element didn’t get left out. He’s met too many people in the naturist world who allow shame to convince them that being open like this… being a naturist… somehow disqualifies them from a relationship with God. They assume that because their lifestyle wouldn’t be well-received at church, it isn’t well-received by the Divine.
Kevin wanted his “brothers and sisters” to know that there is room at the table, clothed or naked. For him, God used naturism… something most religious circles would stay far away from… to show him how “long and wide and high and deep” His love actually is.
Corin and I have our own perspectives on faith and philosophy, but we have massive respect for that kind of emotional honesty. Whether you call it grace, or the universe, or just a fundamental shift in perspective, the core experience he described… being known instead of hiding… is something we understand deeply and have written about before. Shame doesn’t belong to us. It never did.
We’ve seen how shame can be weaponized in the name of “decency,” and we’ve seen how transformative it is when you realize that your body, and your spirit, isn’t a problem to be solved.
Why We Keep Showing Up
Reading Kevin’s email reminded us why we started OurNaturistLife.com. When we first launched the website, we weren’t trying to build a platform or chase numbers. We started writing because being open about our own journey changed us. We’d spent so much of our lives worried about what people thought, trying to fit into boxes, and feeling like we had to present a polished version of ourselves. When we found naturism, it felt like someone had finally let the air into a room that had been sealed shut for decades.
We suspected there were other people out there quietly wrestling with the same fears and questions we once had. We figured if we talked about our own hesitations and the way our bodies actually look, maybe someone else would feel a little less alone. But you always hope your words connect… you rarely get proof. Getting a message like this removes all doubt. Real people are reading. Real people are healing.
He told us that the first thing of ours he ever stumbled across was our “10 Promises to Yourself” article, which is honestly one of those pieces that took us a long time to get right. Knowing that those specific words actually helped him sit down and evaluate his own heart and motivations makes every single hour we’ve spent staring at a blank screen feel completely worth it. It’s easy to feel like we’re just typing into a void sometimes, but hearing that he finds our writing grounded and honest really hits home for us.
He mentioned that it’s always a good day when one of our articles arrives in his inbox, which is about the highest compliment we could hope for. It’s a bit humbling to realize that he uses our reflections to help process his own thoughts and intentions. We’re still just figuring this all out as we go, so knowing that our messy, real-life processing helps someone else feel encouraged and a little more clear-headed is exactly why we keep doing this.
The Community of Wierdos
There was also a detail in his email that made us both smile. He is now the administrator for the Edmonton Naturist Swim Group (TENS). Organizing nude activities in Edmonton during the winter requires a level of dedication that deserves recognition, or at minimum, serious thermal respect. Canadians really are built differently. While some people are hibernating under three layers of wool, these folks are renting out city pools and keeping the community alive. It’s a beautiful “community of weirdos,” as he called it, and honestly, those are always the best kinds of communities.
As I sit here proof reading this post… it still puts that lump in my throat. Moments like this don’t make us feel important. Instead, they make us feel incredibly grateful and a bit protective of the space we’re helping build.
We’ve realized that honest naturist writing isn’t just about travel tips or body acceptance slogans. Sometimes, it becomes a small part of someone’s rebuilding process. That isn’t something we take lightly, even when we try to keep our tone playful and human most of the time.
We aren’t sharing this to be preachy, and the other Kevin isn’t asking us to. He just wanted to share that the rules that once condemned him were man-made, and that his “obliterated shame” came from a place of being fully seen and still fully loved. We think that’s a message everyone needs to hear, regardless of their background.
To the reader who trusted us with his story… thank you. You reminded us why we do this. We meant it when we wrote back and said we’d be honored to shake your hand someday. We’ll just make sure it’s somewhere warm, with a hot tub nearby, because as much as we love the naturist spirit, we are not nearly as tough as Edmonton winter swimmers.
We’ll leave the sub-zero nakedness to the professionals and meet you where the water is at least 30°C.
And to the rest of you… if you have questions or if Kevin’s story sparked something in you that you need to process, he mentioned he’d be happy to interact if it brings healing along the way.
That’s exactly the kind of community we’re proud to be a part of.
We really love putting these stories together and sharing them with you. So if you’ve enjoyed tagging along for the ride today, feel free to head over to our Ko-fi page where you can buy us a coffee or a subscription and help us keep the site running smoothly.
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