The Day I Screamed in My Car: A Raw Journey from Rage to Healing

I’m coming right up on the one year anniversary from the day I decided to go to a free Orange Theory class and get a health assessment afterward. 

I left angry. And I stayed angry for the entire day. I raged in my journal for HOURS. I cried. I sat in my car and SCREAMED. I felt unhinged. I felt like I was losing it. I didn’t want anyone to see me that way, so I gave myself all the time I needed to process what I was feeling.

I looked at photos of my strong, toned body and laughing face on a trip abroad from a few years earlier, lingering on the look on my face filled with so much joy, so much freedom. I looked in the rearview mirror and didn’t recognize the face of the woman that looked back at me. 

How had this happened? Who had I become?

I sat with my anger until she told me her name was grief… Grief over how much I’d abandoned myself, my passion, my hobbies, my health… for what? 

Before I married my husband in 2020 on the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE with our kids in the most beautiful ceremony at my dream venue (the St. Vrain), three different people had reached out to me to warn me about my fiance’s toxic ex-wife. They told me to be careful. I took what they said with a grain of salt. I believed she couldn't be as crazy as they described, and I’d eventually become friends with her. Bless my heart. Now, I smile at my naivety. I’d been co-parenting for nearly ten years with no issues - I thought I was a pro at this! However, no one could have prepared for the journey I was embarking on.

I’d told myself initially that I could handle it. I could handle the manipulative antics. Each time I needed to pivot and make another sacrifice, I told myself it was going to be worth it for my new family. For the many ways our kids needed me. I’d told myself it was temporary, sacrificing myself for only a season, and then everything would “settle down”.

Part of that was true. 

And part of it was an unhelpful narrative. 

There’s an unhealed part of myself that began working overtime to give our children the childhood I wish I had, trying to protect them from the harsh reality of having a toxic parent, trying to make them feel better when yet another promise was broken or when they were broken from abusive behavior. In a way, I was actually trying to heal a broken part of myself, but I've learned this was not how to go about it. 

It was up to me to make a change. 

Since that day at Orange Theory, I’ve been making changes. Trying new things. Reading books. Making better boundaries. Saying NO. Practicing more self-care. Getting off track and then finding my way back. Determined to rediscover me, a new version of me, a healthier version of me. 

During the spring of ‘24, my therapist and two different doctors said something to the effect of, “Stress is killing you. You have to make a change.” 

They were right. I had to make a change. And that could only happen by taking radical responsibility of my life.

I dealt with even more curve balls in the second half of the year while I was still in recovery from a lumpectomy (results were benign 🙌). But I started getting better at handling unexpected twists and turns. I’d made a commitment to heal and, often, I felt like I was in a critical fight for my life, for my mental health.

I was committed to healing my body and mind that had been torn apart by the stress of this process — of being taken to court and having lies filed about me, of court threats, and all the unpredictabilities of dealing with someone who’s unstable, someone who’s living with an untreated mental illness, someone who creates constant chaos and then leaves Kelvin and I to scramble and pick up the pieces. To take radical responsibility of my life involved getting honest about how this process has affected me AND to stop reacting to it. To start responding instead, with better boundaries AND surrender.

Slowly, we’re learned to stop scrambling. To stop trying so hard to protect our kids from experiencing the toxicity of someone else’s behavior. We can’t protect them. They’ll need to process their own journeys, come to their own realizations of what’s actually true, find their own way, and find their own healing. 

That’s not on me. I can’t save them.

I can’t save anyone. 

I’ve been learning what it means to take radical responsibility for my life, not anyone else’s.

I’ve learned to … let them, as Mel Robbins encourages. To let them be who they are. To let go of the illusion of control. To surrender. 

You may not be navigating the same challenges I’ve been navigating, but if there’s one thing I hope you take away from my journey, it’s this: Healing starts with giving yourself permission to feel your pain, name it, and then take the steps you need to reclaim your life.

As part of my healing journey, I’ve also reconnected with my art practice, channeling different emotions into a new series that explores raw, abstract, emotional expressions. Creating has led me to an even deeper surrender.

Surrender doesn’t mean giving up; it means opening up to a new way of being.

Healing requires you to prioritize yourself not out of selfishness, but out of a deep desire to become whole. It's about setting boundaries, getting curious, practicing self-care, releasing internal pain through somatic movements, and giving yourself breathing space to process.

As we step into another year, remember that it's never too late to start again. It's never too late to choose you. To choose peace. To choose healing.

P.S. My family is worth every bit of this effort. They deserve a wife and mother who’s not just surviving, but thriving. Yes, I’m fighting for myself AND I’m also fighting for them without losing myself. I won’t give up. I’m only learning a new way, a better way. Remember, the people you love deserve the best version of you, and so do you.