The Relationship Glow up I never knew I needed

I thought I had built a beautiful life.

I was married to my college sweetheart. We were both teachers and then ministry leaders. We homeschooled our kids, led Bible studies, and counseled couples. There was never a shortage of people who wanted to know us, learn from us, be around us.

I believed I had deep friendships. Godly friendships. I believed I knew who I was, where I was headed, and who I was headed there with.

And then everything unraveled.

At the time it felt sudden, almost overnight. But looking back, I can see the slow drift…the stress, the busyness, the subtle performing to keep up appearances. Somewhere along the way, that pressure slipped between my husband and me and we grew more and more distant.

Before I could fully process it, I was divorced.

Alone. Co-parenting five kids most of the time while running two businesses. And almost everyone I thought would be in my life forever had quietly stepped back.

Maybe they wanted to press in, but just didn’t know what to say. Maybe they were uncomfortable. Maybe they were judging me or afraid they’d “catch” the divorce bug . I’ll never really know.

What I did know was this: my life felt overturned. My body was exhausted. My nervous system was constantly on edge. And I felt exposed,  like maybe I had been pretending all along. The imposter syndrome was real.

And then, in the middle of that ache, God sent two people.

They couldn’t have known what they were stepping into, but they stepped in anyway. Shoulder to shoulder. Heart to heart, at a depth I didn’t even know was possible in friendship.

Because of them, I had just enough courage to keep going.

I found an intuitive counselor who gently walked me through experiential healing. Later, when I was steadier, I worked with a coach who did something even more unexpected — she led me back to myself.

Not the version of me who performed well.
Not the version everyone admired.
Just… me.

She gave me simple questions to ask myself. Like really simple…
What do you enjoy doing in your free time? What does your ideal day look like when you aren’t in charge of other people?
What music lights you up? What movies could you watch over and over?
What flavors do you love or hate? What books do you actually want to read?

She told me to take myself on dates. To be present. To stop constantly living in what I “should” be doing for everyone else and instead notice what made me feel ALIVE and what didn’t.

I journaled. I prayed. I slowed down.

And somewhere in that process, I began to genuinely like myself.

Maybe for the first time.

I realized I am loyal and spontaneous and a little ridiculous. Off-the-cuff funny. Scattered in a disarming way. Warm and hospitable. Dependable, (even if chronically late.) Thoughtful. Compassionate. Deeply authentic.

And when I got clear on who I was, everything shifted.

I stopped trying to be for everyone. I stopped worrying about whether I fit into certain circles. The right people felt drawn in. Others gently faded. No drama. Just alignment.

And in time, in a way only God could orchestrate, my husband and I found our way back to each other. We reconciled. We remarried. And, that redemption story, my friend, is for another time and space. 

But the real glow-up wasn’t just relational. It was internal.

Losing the identity I thought defined me forced me to remember who I am at my core. And that rediscovery has enriched every relationship in my life: friendships, family, marriage, business, all of it.

If I can help even one woman remember who she is without having to lose everything first, I will. Watching someone come home to herself and open her heart to real lasting relationships is magical. It feels redemptive and miraculous.

That’s why I stepped into Connections Coaching, where I walk alongside women on a journey starting with self-discovery and leading to lasting connections. 

Let me tell you about that journey…

It’s wild.
It’s uncomfortable.
It’s brutally and beautifully honest.

And it will absolutely change your life.

XXOO,

Jeanna Lichtenberger 

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