"The Day I Chose Me"

Kathy Mattoon
Jun 18, 2025
4 min read

Updated: Jul 3, 2025

Growth is uncomfortable. Change is exhausting. But I wasn’t built for easy–I was made for more.

I remember sitting on the back deck more times than I can count, staring out into nothing and knowing–this can’t be it. There had to be more to life than what I was settling for.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love homeschooling my kids or being home with them. Those were sacred years I wouldn’t trade. But in the quiet moments, I felt completely lost–not just from who I used to be, but from the woman I knew deep down I was meant to become. The truth was, I wasn’t even sure who that woman was anymore. I just knew I wasn’t her yet.

I had given so much of myself for so long that I couldn’t even hear my own voice. I had no sense of direction. I had no compass pointing back at me. People-pleasing had turned into a trap. Every time I said “yes” to everyone else, I was saying “no” to myself–and the deeper I sank, the harder it became to climb out.

But something in me knew I couldn’t keep going like that. I needed to make some hard decisions. It was time to dig deep and find my brave. Because let’s be honest–change doesn’t happen when you stay still.

I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions. They always felt like setups for failure, and that the last thing I needed was another reason to feel like I wasn’t enough. But that year, I made a different kind of promise to myself: growth.

I started with how I spoke to myself. I’d been so cruel in my inner dialogue, letting other people’s opinions shape the lens through which I saw myself. That had to stop. If I didn’t start showing up for me, who would? Regardless of what I’d endured in my marriage, I knew the change had to start with me.

So, I got up. Feet on the floor. One step at a time.

That year became a turning point. I grew. I healed. I transformed. I felt stronger, looked healthier, and finally started to see a glimpse of the woman I remembered and longed to be. I spoke to myself with kindness, offered myself grace, and still held myself accountable–with honesty, not shame.

But here’s what hurt: he didn’t notice.

Or maybe he did–but acknowledging my growth would’ve required him to reflect on his lack of it. So instead, he tried to dim my light. He stayed the same, hoping I would shrink back into the version of myself that was easier to control. But I wasn’t going backward. Not this time.

Growth is uncomfortable. Change is exhausting. But I wasn’t built for easy–I was made for more. And even though the path I was carving was full of challenges, it flowed with a kind of clarity that told me I was finally on the right track.

There were moments I had to dig deeper than I thought possible–times I was bone-tired and still pushed forward. But I kept going, I kept choosing me.

Today, I’m in a place I once only dreamed of–emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. My nervous system knows a calm it never knew existed. I still have moments of struggle. Years of conditioning don’t just vanish–they whisper, they knock, they try to sneak through old cracks. But I’ve learned not to open the door.

And when I look back, I’m overwhelmed with pride. I’ve come so far. I’ve rebuilt myself piece by piece. And while I walked the road alone in many ways, I’ll never forget the people who stood beside me–my kids, and my two unshakeable soul sisters, Tina and Cindy. They reminded me of who I was when I forgot. They held space for my ugly tears and told me the truths I didn’t always want to hear but desperately needed.

In the end, though, the shift happened when I chose me.

I kept my feet planted. I stopped waiting for permission. And I began to write a new story–one where I’m the author, not the afterthought.

So, if you’re sitting on your own metaphorical deck, staring out and wondering if this is all life has for you–I need you to hear me:

It’s not.

There is more. There is you–beneath the roles, the routines, the noise, and the expectations. You are not too far gone. You are not too late. You don’t need permission to change. You just need one brave step.

I don’t have all the answers, but I know this: the moment I stopped waiting to be rescued and chose to rescue myself, everything shifted. Not all at once. Not without pain. But with intention. With honesty. With grace.

You’re allowed to rewrite your story. You’re allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress. And no matter how lost you may feel right now, the map back to yourself is already inside you.

Your fire is still there.

Light it.

And let the world feel the heat of a woman who finally chose to rise.