End of an Era: Prioritizing Mental Health and Finding Balance

“Gotta fake it ’til you make it,” right? And I did. Every morning, I’d step in front of the green screen with a smile, ready to deliver the day’s forecast with energy and enthusiasm. This part of my story isn’t something many people know, but I’m naturally a glass-half-full kinda gal.

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To the outside world, it looked like I had it all together. In many ways, I guess I did. I loved my job, the unpredictability of covering storms, and the thrill of live TV. But behind that smile, I was running on empty, pushing through exhaustion, and ignoring the little cracks forming beneath the surface.

To others, everything looked perfect in Lauren Rautenkranz’s world. I had just run a marathon, produced our station’s annual hurricane special, secured our “most accurate” title for the fifth year in a row, and even received a nomination as one of Florida’s best weathercasters. My career seemed to be soaring, and in certain aspects, it was. But the truth was, while everything was going right on paper, it wasn’t. I was holding it together, but mentally, it was taking a major toll.

“I was grinnin’ like I’m winnin’, I was hittin’ my marks, ’cause I can do it with a broken heart.” Those lyrics became my anthem in the last month of my time at the news station. (Thanks, T. Swift.) It was what I played every morning on the way to work, a quiet acknowledgment that even though I was still showing up, inside, something wasn’t quite right. I could keep going — I knew that. I could keep pushing through the sleepless nights, the stress, the constant rushing. But was that really what I wanted? At some point, I had to ask myself if I was breaking my own heart by staying.

For a long time, I ignored the signs. I thought it was normal to feel drained, overwhelmed, and anxious all the time. It felt selfish to focus on myself when I had a family to take care of, a job to show up for, and expectations to meet. There were days when it felt like I was moving through life on autopilot. I’d be physically present at work or with my kids, but mentally, I was elsewhere — disconnected and exhausted. Simple tasks became overwhelming, and instead of enjoying the small, joyful moments, I was too tired to appreciate them.

Every morning, I wasn’t waking up with a sense of gratitude for a new day. Instead, my first thought was, When can I sleep next? It was an awful mindset, but gosh, I was wearing myself way too thin. The rushing around, the pressure to be everywhere at once, and the constant worry about the future — would I even have the energy to make it to my kids’ games, their recitals, and the big moments in their lives years down the road?

Bedtime, once a peaceful moment of winding down with baby snuggles and reading books, had become a source of anxiety. I found myself lying awake, tearful and overwhelmed by small things — things that shouldn’t have been stressful but were. My husband was there for me, reassuring me through these moments when I’d start to spiral. He’d console me, remind me to breathe, and help me calm down when the pressure felt unbearable.

In the middle of it all, there was a moment in a negotiation room when everything became clear. I realized that while I could be replaced at work, I could never be replaced at home. I had given my all — covering severe weather, securing awards, and taking on extra responsibilities — but deep down, I felt I wasn’t valued the way I knew I should be. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my job; I did. What didn’t help was that darn 2 a.m. alarm. It wasn’t just robbing me of sleep — it was taking time away from my family, from the moments that mattered most. My babies needed me, my husband needed me, and, more than anything, I needed to be fully present for myself.

It became clear to me that something had to change. My job was quite literally taking years off my life, and if I didn’t step away, I feared what I might miss.

It wasn’t an easy decision to walk away. To quit my job. It still feels weird typing or even saying that out loud. I had worked extremely hard for my career, and part of me felt like I was letting it all go. There were days when I questioned whether I was making the right choice, whether I could keep faking it a little longer. Whether or not I could keep pushing to get that big promotion down the road. I knew, deep down, that even if things kept going “right,” stepping away was the only way I could start to heal.

In my ten years as a broadcast meteorologist, I accomplished so much — emceeing galas, earning awards, sharing unforgettable stories, and building personal and professional relationships I’ll forever cherish. However, as much as I loved it and still do, it was time to move forward. It was time to close the chapter on that part of my life. “I can do it with a broken heart” played one last time (volume cranked and windows down) as I drove away from the station on May 31, 2024, but this time, I knew I wasn’t broken — I was starting fresh.

This journey has taught me that it’s okay to let go. It’s okay to choose peace over pushing through and self-care over staying in a situation that’s no longer serving you. This was the end of an incredibly wonderful era for me — but also the start of something new, where my mental health comes first, and I can truly be present for my family and myself.

I do my best to not look back with regret or wonder. I’m embracing what was and keeping my head forward because there’s no time like the present. So here’s to all those mornings I rushed through — and here’s to all the mornings I now spend savoring coffee with my little ones. Here’s to trusting that walking away doesn’t mean giving up — it means choosing something better.

And to everyone else out there, “fake it ‘til you make it” if you must — but know that when it’s time to stop faking, you’ll feel it. Listen to that voice. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is walk away.