Wannabe

My deepest birthday wish

On April 28th, I completed my 37th trip around the sun. This one felt different—faster, but more turbulent than the rest, and with not nearly enough free snacks.

In the days leading up to my birthday, I felt, paradoxically, both completely indifferent ("Is this part of getting old?", I wondered) and also uncontrollably eager to live out my wildest dreams ("What did you want to be when you grew up?").

Well, at 8 years old, I wanted to be Sporty Spice. What girl growing up in the ’90s didn’t want to be part of the group? But Sporty stood out to me because she wasn’t like the others. She rocked Adidas track pants, wore minimal makeup, had an arm tatt, and made a living hyping up crowds while busting out push-ups on stage. I think it’s safe to say I lived out my version of that dream. P.S. Even though I turned into a Hip-Hop head, “Wannabe” will forever be the only song I know all the lyrics to. Sorry, Biggie.

At 15, I wanted to be a Professional Hip-Hop Dancer. I had just left Costa Rica for the U.S., and though I didn’t realize it at the time, dance became my coping mechanism through the transition and culture shock. My mentor explained to me that Hip-Hop was created by Black and Latino youth who felt they didn’t have a place in society, so they created a culture and home for themselves. Hip-Hop didn’t just change my life; it saved it. And while I never made it to New York or L.A., I spent the next two decades learning, performing, teaching, and creating @hiphoppopup—a space where others could feel that same sense of belonging.

At 24, I wanted to be a Famous Fitness Trainer. I had fallen in love with a new way of moving—different from dance, but just as beautiful and powerful in the way it made me feel: unstoppable and seen. I wanted to bring that feeling to as many people as possible. When I was approached by some big names in the industry, I naively thought stardom was the only way I could make an impact. Having each of those doors close bruised my ego at first, but I soon realized that what I already had—my community—was more important than anything else. I was making an impact. My proudest achievement will always be the many people I’ve been able to empower, even in the tiniest way. If that’s you, reading this, thank you for trusting in me and allowing me to be part of your journey. P.S. I still think you’re a badass.

At 36, I just wanted to be Me again. After 12 years in the fitness industry, another 10 in the dance world, and 22 years away from home, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I had lost touch with the 8-year-old version of me, belting lyrics at the top of her lungs, laughing and playing joyously. I had lost touch with the 15-year-old version, who lit up on stage and moved through life unapologetically. I had even lost touch with the 24-year-old version, who loved to lift heavy, hit PRs, and teach others to do the same. I was working too much, barely sleeping or eating, and pushing through injuries just to keep up with industry standards and expectations. I was seeing family less. I was forgetting Spanish, my first language. I was letting my culture and identity slip through my tired, calloused hands.

I didn’t know who I was—and worst of all, I didn’t love who I was.

I think you all know what happened next (and if you don’t but want to, feel free to read my first blog post). But here’s the punchline: I left everything I had—and hurt people I cared about—to save myself.

I’ve spent the last 365+ days learning lessons in self-trust and self-love. I’ve cried most of those days, questioned all of my choices, and let anxiety envelop me whole. But I’ve also grown, laughed, healed, deeply connected with others, fallen back in love with dancing, teaching—and yes, I’ve even belted “Wannabe” at the top of my lungs. Every. Last. Word.

So what do I wannabe at 37? Who else lives in this body of mine?

I know there’s:
 An Artist itching to create.
 An Athlete eager to learn new skills.
 A Successful Businesswoman ready to launch a tool to help as many people as she can.
 An Adventurous Child begging to surf, skate, and play in the waves.

And there are also all the Past Versions of Me—proud of everything I’ve become, holding my hand as I learn to love myself again, and hyping me up (Sporty-Spice-style, of course) to become Everything I Know I Can Be.