The Rainbow Over My Head

You’ve Always Had a Rainbow

This year has been wild. When you ask God for eyes to see, wow, do you start seeing things you never expected. One thing’s for sure: not everyone in your life is meant to stay. Sometimes you have to clear the space—make room for the people God is bringing in. It rarely makes sense in the moment, but later… it always does.

It’s hard to let go. We hold tight to people, routines, and even habits, thinking we’re doing the right thing. But if God is ready to remove something from your life and you cling to it, it will start to rot—whether it’s a person, a behavior, or even a mindset.

I believe that kind of clinging comes from fear—a desperate need to control. It’s about manipulating expectations, beliefs, even freedom. If someone can’t control you, they fear they’ll lose their importance. That’s not love. That’s manipulation. And that is no way to live.

This holiday season was especially tough. Honestly, it’s a pattern—one that tends to bring out the worst in toxic people. But this time was different because I’m different. I see things clearly now. I see the dysfunction, the manipulation, and the spiritual decay. But I also see the One who holds me and my family in His mighty hands.

Maybe God needed me to experience this pain so I’d be ready—ready to protect my kids, to raise them in His truth, and to be a mom with both compassion and conviction. Maybe He needed me to finally say no, and walk away from the people and patterns that were never mine to carry. There’s freedom in that, too.

For years, I lived in survival mode—doing anything just to get through the day. The weight I carried wasn’t meant for one person alone, and the burden dragged on for what felt like forever. No helping hand. No shoulder to lean on. Just judgment, financial stress, and silence. It changed me.

I started therapy in California after I nearly ended my life by driving off a cliff. That moment broke me—and began to rebuild me. For nine intense months, I did the work. Privately. I unraveled decades of emotional trauma, triggers, and wounds. I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t risk another voice in my head. I had been suffocated by everyone else’s opinions for too long.

I was called names, misunderstood, and judged while working on a version of me they didn’t even know existed. But I didn’t care. I was on a mission to save my life—and not just save it, but change it.

Over the next four years, I stayed committed. I added a health coach, then a life coach. I lost 111 lbs—weight brought on by illness, misdiagnosis, and stress. I found better doctors, got the right diagnoses, and learned how to use food as medicine. Today, I manage with minimal meds, monthly counseling, and biweekly life coaching.

I’ve transformed my physical, emotional, and spiritual health. I protect my peace, my body, my home, and my mind. I came close to losing it all—by my own hand and by letting toxicity eat me alive. Never again.

Life will never be “easy.” But it can be joyful—and I choose that joy, even when it offends others. Let it. Let the ones who can’t handle your healing remove themselves. That makes them easier to spot.

My rainbow was always there. I just couldn’t see it through the storm. But God helped me clear the clouds. With His grace, and the help of some very patient professionals, I finally saw myself clearly—and began to process life in a healthy, sustainable way. My faith was the anchor through countless sleepless nights, masked pain, and lonely moments. No one knew what I was going through. I did the work in silence, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

But I thank God every day that I did it.

Now, five and a half years later, I’ve learned what works for me. I’ve learned that people will project their anger, jealousy, and laziness onto others. They want someone to blame. But I won’t carry that anymore. I’ve done the work. They can do theirs. No more excuses.

I may not be at the end of my rainbow, but I see it. I feel it. I run my fingers through the colors of joy even in the struggle. And yes, I mean that.

I never asked for an easy life—only a simple one. And I have that now. My rainbow isn’t sparkly or flashy. It’s humble and bright with the colors of promise, faith, and hope. I hold onto that, not the world’s chaos.

🌈 You’ve always had a rainbow, too. 🌈

As we step into a new year, it’s not about “new” for me. I’m not interested in starting over. I’m interested in growing roots. I want to pay off my credit card, deep clean my house, and dig into my third WordPress writing course.

I’m leaning into rhythms that feel like home—church on Sundays, date nights, friends, family dinners. “Brand new” sounds like a curse word these days. I’m chasing calm, not chaos. So if that’s not your vibe, keep it moving.

Here’s my idea of a perfect night: a glass of wine, live folk music, watching my sweet husband sip whiskey under the cedar tree in the Texas sun, and being in bed by 9 p.m. That’s life.

Or maybe it’s movie night with my kids—Tristan and Grace running to Walgreens for their favorite snacks, followed by a movie marathon. Or a weekend of teamwork—cleaning the house with ’70s rock blasting. Waking up early for devotions and coffee before anyone’s awake. Long chats with my sister. Friday night lights under the Texas sunset. Coming home to dogs who missed me like crazy. Dinner with my favorite people. A quiet chat in Jason’s office just for the two of us. 🤍

And now, a new rhythm: getting up early, drinking coffee, heading into a job I love with people I admire. Picking up G from school and catching rare glimpses of my teenager’s sweet side—it’s all so good when it’s good.

Maybe my rainbow has a few hearts in it now. 🤍🌈🤍🌈🤍🌈

SK-