The Lookout
Point
Names matter.
If you don’t think so, look around. So many women today hold onto their last name after marriage—some hyphenate, some keep it completely—because it connects them to who they are. Who they were before the change. Because names carry history, memory, identity.
And this year—2025—marks 25 years since the day I first arrived in Port Orchard, Washington and I changed my name. I chose the name Shannon Knight to remind me to put on the full armor of God from Ephesians 6:10-18 so I would never feel alone when I was scared.
I had made the decision for my safety and it wasn't easy. I had been a victim of a serious crime and had to change my name, relocate and begin life anew— giving up everything connected to my former name and life.
A Name I Had to Grow Into
It wasn’t easy to adjust to my new name and relocation to a place I had no history and knew no one. When I’d meet someone and introduce myself it felt strange because that was the most inauthentic I had ever felt in my life.
But now I know looking back that this name holds all my memories, all that I’ve survived, cherished, celebrated, every mistake I’ve made, every hurt against me—whether intentional or not—that I’ve forgiven.
Returning to Port Orchard
I came back to Port Orchard, Washington, in April 2025 with a significant purpose. I rented an Airbnb on the water, wanting to celebrate twenty-five years as Shannon Knight and everything those years had meant.
I came to Port Orchard to confront so many fears of everything that had happened—it was still haunting. The painful memories felt like they were too much a part of me in a negative way, and I knew it was time to face them and find a new perspective. I wasn't sure what would come of this but I knew for sure change would happen and I was definitely willing to look at things differently.
I prepared for this journey, so my husband came along for support. And I made sure to have my best girlfriends involved, because they are the women who made me feel like I belonged when I felt like I had lost my foundation back then. They now feel like my forever sisters.
It was a success, and I laughed so much—without that panicked, look-over-my-shoulder feeling. I went to all the places I swore I'd never return to in that little town where everything had once come undone.
Wow, was I surprised because not once did I feel that same sense of unraveling. I felt happy there. I even toyed with the thought of moving back. Feeling my friends so close by again was incredible. I didn’t want to leave.
My husband loved watching us and getting to know everyone. There is so much to be said about friendships that stand the test of time—in all their forms: tender, warm, dramatic, silly, playful.
The Town I Remembered
I spent a week going back to every place I remembered from when I lived in Port Orchard. So much had changed. The town had grown, new businesses had opened, and many of the places I remembered looked different now.
What surprised me was realizing that the only real trace of the Port Orchard I had known twenty-five years earlier was what my memory had held onto.
Life had gone on.
And there was something so symbolic about that realization. While I had carried those memories with me all these years, the town hadn't stood still. People had continued living, things had changed, and life had moved forward.
And I realized I needed to do the same.
Not by forgetting what happened or pretending those years hadn't mattered, but by allowing myself to stop living within the painful memories of a place that no longer existed as I remembered it.
The Lookout Point
But perhaps the most important part of returning to Port Orchard was realizing just how far I had come.
Twenty-five years earlier, my car's engine had blown, and I had no money or credit to replace it. I would go another two years without a car because I simply couldn't afford one. I walked everywhere through the cold, wet Washington weather until, a couple of years later, I began making friends. Looking back, I couldn't help but admire what this California girl had pushed through. That was my reality then.
And now, here I was, returning to the very place where I had experienced so much hardship, looking back at a woman who had no idea what her future would hold.
In my Journey of the Heart Coaching, I have an exercise called The Lookout Point. I ask women to imagine themselves standing somewhere high above, where they can look back over their lives as an observer. To see not only the painful experiences and moments of self-criticism, but also the strength it took to get where they are today.
And there I was, twenty-five years later, doing exactly what I ask other women to do.
A lens of compassion.
As I wrote about that younger woman, I began to see things I hadn't recognized back then. Where I remembered feeling so alone, I could now see how God had been there all along. Where I once saw only hardship and fear, I began to see her courage. I felt such compassion for her, and I admired how she kept going when so much seemed beyond her control.
For so many years, I had listened to that bully in my head. The voice of self-criticism that reminded me of my mistakes, questioned my decisions, and made me feel I should have somehow done better, known better, or been stronger. I had become so accustomed to judging myself that I rarely stopped to consider what I had actually been through.
But when I began writing about that younger woman as though I were a reporter telling someone else's story, something changed. I wasn't looking for everything she had done wrong. I was noticing what she had endured. I could see her struggles without blaming her for them. I could admire her courage without expecting her to have been fearless.
And I began to understand the difference between self-criticism and self-compassion.
I began to wonder why I could so easily extend kindness, patience, and understanding to another woman, yet withhold those very things from myself.
More importantly, I was learning to look at my life through God's grace and loving eyes. God had witnessed every frightened moment, every tear, every struggle, and every effort I had made to keep going. He knew what I was carrying, even when no one else did.
I didn't have to rewrite the past or pretend those years hadn't been painful. I could acknowledge everything that happened while learning to see myself with the same compassion I would offer another woman who had lived through those circumstances.
The Courage We Sometimes Forget
Even though I don’t know anyone who’s lived through what I have I know many people who have gone through extraordinary things I haven’t. I’ve learned we all live different lives and we face different struggles. We all know how fear can consume us and we know it precedes every triumph we’ve had in life.
If you’re going through something overwhelming and feel uncertain or afraid—I hope you’ll hear me when I say: The courage you need for what you are facing is already within you.
Look back on your life—you’ll see how many times courage showed up when you were afraid. Fear and doubt always come before our courage. You’ll see all the times you didn’t give up even when you felt abandoned and alone —faith is what you held onto and it took courage to keep going and you made it through.
Looking back brings new perspective. What once felt like damage beyond repair can reveal what seemed so impossible, wasn’t and you overcame. That’s where you’ll see how amazing you really are.
Today you may be facing an extraordinary circumstance and maybe there is a path you must choose that offers no evidence of which is the right one, I know it can be frightening.
You have proof from your past that you can endure whatever comes from your choices and it shaped you.
Journey of the Heart
I knew then that I wanted to teach other women this practice through my Journey of the Heart Coaching. I wanted them to experience what I had discovered when I stopped listening to the bully in my head and began looking at my life through God's grace.
Because I wondered how many women were carrying painful memories, blaming themselves for things they couldn't have known or controlled, and overlooking the extraordinary courage it had taken just to get through those years.
What if they could step outside their own stories for a moment and look at the woman who lived through them? Would they speak to her with the same criticism they had directed at themselves for years? Or would they recognize her pain, admire her courage, and feel compassion for everything she had endured?
I wanted women to understand that self-compassion isn't about denying what happened or pretending we never made mistakes. It's about learning to see ourselves as human beings who deserve the same patience, understanding, and kindness we so willingly offer someone else.
Journey of the Heart Coaching
A place to reflect on your journey, recognize your courage, and learn to extend compassion to yourself.
Explore Journey of the Heart Coaching →A True Independence Day
Names matter. If you don’t think so, look around. So many women today hold onto their last name after marriage—some hyphenate, some keep it completely—because it connects them to who they are. Who they were before the change. Because names carry history, memory, identity.
And this year—2025—marks 25 years since the day I first arrived in Port Orchard, Washington and I changed my name. I chose the name Shannon Knight to remind me to put on the full armor of God from Ephesians 6:10-18 so I would never feel alone when I was scared.
I had made the decision for my safety and it wasn't easy. I had been a victim of a serious crime and had to change my name, relocate and begin life anew- giving up everything connected to my former name and life.
I came back to Port Orchard, WA this year with a significant purpose and I chose the 4th of July—Independence Day.
It wasn’t easy to adjust to my new name and relocation to a place I had no history and knew no one. When I’d meet someone and introduce myself it felt strange because that was the most inauthentic I had ever felt in my life.
But now I know looking back that this name holds all my memories, all that I’ve survived, cherished, celebrated, every mistake I’ve made, every hurt against me-whether intentional or not that I’ve forgiven.
—Independence Day.
I came to Port Orchard to confront so many fears of everything that had happened—it was still haunting. The painful memories felt like they were too much a part of me in a negative way, and I knew it was time to face them and find a new perspective. I wasn't sure what would come of this but I knew for sure change would happen and I was definitely willing to look at things differently.
I prepared for this journey, so my husband came along for support. And I made sure to have my best girlfriends involved, because they are the women who made me feel like I belonged when I felt like I had lost my foundation back then. They now feel like my forever sisters.
It was a success, and I laughed so much—without that panicked, look-over-my-shoulder feeling. I went to all the places I swore I'd never return to in that little town where everything had once come undone.
Wow, was I surprised because not once did I feel that same sense of unraveling. I felt happy there. I even toyed with the thought of moving back. Feeling my friends so close by again was incredible. I didn’t want to leave.
My husband loved watching us and getting to know everyone. There is so much to be said about friendships that stand the test of time—in all their forms: tender, warm, dramatic, silly, playful.
I loved it then, and I love it now.
Even though I don’t know anyone who’s lived through what I have I know many people who have gone through extraordinary things I haven’t. I’ve learned we all live different lives and we face different struggles. We all know how fear can consume us and we know it precedes every triumph we’ve had in life.
If you’re going through something overwhelming and feel uncertain or afraid—I hope you’ll hear me when I say: The courage you need for what you are facing is already within you.
Look back on your life—you’ll see how many times courage showed up when you were afraid. Fear and doubt always come before our courage. You’ll see all the times you didn’t give up even when you felt abandoned and alone —faith is what you held onto and it took courage to keep going and you made it through.
Looking back brings new perspective. What once felt like damage beyond repair can reveal what seemed so impossible, wasn’t and you overcame. That’s where you’ll see how amazing you really are.
Today you may be facing an extraordinary circumstance and maybe there is a path you must choose that offers no evidence of which is the right one, I know it can be frightening.
You have proof from your past that you can endure whatever comes from your choices and it shaped you.
Most of all, remember, “this too shall pass”—and like or not... it really will. One day you will look back on this as well. You are never alone in any circumstance.
—Shannon Knight
