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Rising Stars: Meet Kimberly Mathis of Westminster, CO

Today we’d like to introduce you to Kimberly Mathis.

Hi Kimberly , can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
I’m an author, speaker, entrepreneur, but most importantly, I’m a truth-teller. A soul-story digger. A woman who believes that healing becomes real when we do it out loud.

I’ve always loved writing. Storytelling, for me, has never just been about crafting sentences, it’s about giving voice to the experiences we carry, the pain we bury, and the truths we’re rarely given permission to speak. Our stories aren’t just ours; they can be someone else’s medicine. They remind others they’re not alone.

I was born an addicted infant to a mother deep in a battle with heroin and cocaine. From the start, I saw destruction up close. I learned that love and loss can live in the same person, and that sometimes survival means holding your breath through years of silence. The streets of Dallas weren’t gentle with me. So I made meaning wherever I could, piecing together identity in the spaces where nurture was missing. Journaling became my first form of therapy. Writing gave me structure when everything else was chaos. Long before I had degrees or accolades, I had spiral notebooks full of unspoken truths, a young girl documenting her way to clarity.

Life moved fast. For over a decade, my husband Kevin played in the NFL, and I found myself managing a public life that demanded polish. I ran our home, raised three children, started businesses, and carried the invisible weight of image and expectation. From the outside, it looked like success. But internally, I was unraveling. I was still that little girl, just with more responsibilities and fewer places to be vulnerable. The trauma was still there, the people-pleasing still loud, and the exhaustion masked by a smile. The weight in my chest kept growing, pressing against every version of me I had carefully built. Something had to give.

In 2019, I chose to give my performance a voice. My debut book, Dope Girl, was a raw excavation of what addiction steals, not just from the user, but from the child left behind. It gave language to the ache of a daughter searching for her mother, all while trying to survive her own life. The storytelling is unfiltered and deeply personal. It resonates with anyone who knows the ache of losing someone in pieces, of navigating chaos with no blueprint, of trying to heal while still carrying the weight of what they never asked for.

My second book, Liar in Stilettos, went even deeper. It explores the lies women wear to be accepted, the masks we master to feel loved, and the silent battles we fight while performing strength. It’s part memoir, part mirror. Not just a story, but a reckoning, a release, and a return to self. Liar in Stilettos doesn’t just heal, it frees. It reminds us that survival is not the same as healing, and that radical self-love begins with telling the truth, even the uncomfortable kind.

People have always come to me for comfort, clarity, truth. I didn’t recognize it at first, but that was the assignment. I was meant to hold space, not just for others, but for the parts of myself I hadn’t yet made peace with. Eventually, I turned that pain into purpose and have recently built a life coaching practice rooted in transformation, story, and spiritual honesty. I realized that telling my truth wasn’t just creative expression, it was sacred work. It was how I healed. And how I help others do the same.

I share life with my husband Kevin and our three incredible young adult children, Kennedy, Kaleb, and Kole. And every time I pick up the pen, or open a blank document on my computer, I do it not just to tell my story, but to give someone else permission to tell theirs.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
No, it hasn’t been a smooth road. It’s been jagged, raw, and painfully beautiful.

I was born into struggle, literally. As an infant born addicted, I didn’t start life on stable ground. I watched my mother battle drug addiction, and I learned early that love could be both fierce and fractured. My childhood was shaped by emotional chaos, deep loneliness, and a constant sense of not being safe emotionally or physically. I became a high-functioning version of broken, mastering performance before I ever felt permission to rest.

Later, while building a life that looked put together on the outside, marriage, motherhood, business ownership, and public life alongside my husband’s NFL career, I was privately crumbling. I carried the weight of image, the pressure to be perfect, and the fear of being truly seen. Generational trauma doesn’t care about your resume. I was successful, but silently suffocating.

The biggest struggle wasn’t just what I lived through. It was what I learned to normalize. People-pleasing. Performing strength. Making myself small so others could feel big. And doing it all with a smile so polished no one could see the fracture lines underneath.

Writing saved me. And now, coaching has given that healing a purpose. But getting here, to a place where I can tell my story without shame and speak my truth without trembling, took years of unlearning, forgiving, and facing myself in the mirror without flinching.

The road has not been smooth. But I’ve stopped needing it to be. The cracks gave me language. The pain gave me purpose. And every detour became part of the map I now use to guide others home to themselves.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I help women tell the truth.

Whether I’m writing books, speaking on stages, or working with clients one-on-one, everything I do is rooted in transformation through storytelling. I specialize in helping women untangle their narratives, the ones shaped by trauma, silence, survival, and shame, and return to the version of themselves that existed before the world told them who to be.

I’m an author of two deeply personal books, Dope Girl and Liar in Stilettos. My work is unfiltered and honest. It’s layered. It’s spiritual. It meets people in the places they’re often afraid to speak from. I write and speak about addiction, grief, identity, motherhood, resilience, womanhood, and the quiet war of pretending to be okay when you’re not. I don’t just write stories. I excavate them.

Through my coaching work, I create spaces where women can be fully seen. Not fixed. Not judged. Seen. I guide them as they process the emotions they’ve been told to hide. We talk about the real stuff, the ugly, the unspoken, the ache that doesn’t go away with a morning routine. I blend spiritual grounding, practical support, and deep inner work to help women rebuild from the inside out.

I’m most proud of the way I’ve turned pain into purpose without pretending the pain didn’t happen. I don’t offer quick fixes or surface-level empowerment. I walk people through the real trenches, because I’ve been in them myself. What sets me apart is the depth. The permission. The sacred honesty. I don’t just help women find their voice, I help them reclaim the parts of themselves they thought they had to leave behind to survive.

This is more than a profession for me. It’s my calling. And every story I help free is a reminder that healing, when done honestly, can become the most powerful legacy we leave behind.

What matters most to you? Why?
What matters most to me is truth. The kind that lives beneath the surface. The kind that doesn’t perform. The kind that sets you free.

I believe that when we’re disconnected from our truth, everything else unravels, our relationships, our sense of self, our purpose, our peace. But when we tell the truth, even if our voice shakes, even if it’s messy or uncomfortable, we begin to heal. We begin to return home to who we really are.

Truth has saved my life more than once. It’s what helped me write my story instead of being silenced by it. It’s what allows me to look my children in the eyes and show them what real wholeness looks like. It’s what guides my work, my parenting, my faith, and my leadership. Truth has always been the thread. And that’s why it matters most. Because without it, we’re just performing. And I’ve lived that version. I know how empty it feels.

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Image Credits
Photos by: Sharom Rosas

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