One Year Later…

The Lessons, the Glimmers, and Everything in Between

One year ago today, I walked away from everything — the city, the job, the love, and the rhythm of a life I had built brick by brick. I packed two suitcases, boarded a one-way flight, and woke up in Costa Rica.
Terrified.

Have you ever felt home and lost at the same time?

I wasn’t expecting this year to feel like a retreat to paradise, but I did underestimate how much of a reckoning it would be. Costa Rica wasn’t my escape — it was my mirror. It reflected everything I had buried under achievement, identity, and expectation. It stripped me bare and asked: Who are you, underneath it all?

To be honest, I still struggle with that question. But as I look back on these last 365 days, I know the lessons learned, the glimmers gained, and everything in between have brought me closer to the answer — and back to my truest self.

The Lessons:

Healing cannot be rushed. Nor does it ever stop.
You can still grieve change, even when you were the one who chose it.
The universe will show you signs — whether you like it or not. (fuhkin’ frogs).
People will talk about you. Let them.
People will believe in you. Let them.
Sometimes all you can do is sit in the ache and trust that it’s teaching you something.
Mother Nature will always win. But she’ll teach you to surrender.
Holding on can cause more pain than letting go.
Vulnerability is scary, but it’s your superpower. Use it to help others find theirs, too.

The Glimmers:

Slow mornings and rest days — because there’s nothing sexy about hustle culture.
Lifting heavy again after two years of injury — feeling safe in my body once more.
Saying “no” without fear, because I’ve learned to put myself first.
Sitting at a table full of women asking, “How can we support you?” — and knowing they mean it.
Healing my inner child by exploring, playing, and creating like she used to.
Long dinners with my dad and my brother, where they tell stories I’ve heard a hundred times but would happily hear ten thousand more.
Realizing that every closed door led me to open my own: Aleō Studio.
Every time a client says how strong they feel, how much they look forward to class, and how much “this space feels like home.”
And dancing through the quiet — realizing I’m no longer waiting to be chosen, because I already chose me.

I don’t know exactly what this next year of healing will look like, but I do know this: I’m no longer racing to find out. I’m building — slowly and intentionally — right where my (sandy) feet are.

This version of me is softer but stronger, still healing but standing tall.

And through lessons and glimmers, I’m learning that home isn’t something you find — it’s something you create, again and again.

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.

Weathering the Storm:

Life lessons awaiting a tropical cyclone

Today marks one month since my departure from the US and my return to Costa Rica. It’s been a whirlwind of experiences so far — some magically beautiful, some scarily dark— all of which provided lessons that led me here: grateful, growing, and a tiny bit closer to rediscovering the home around me, and within me. 

It feels good to be back in Costa Rica’s warm, jungle rain and to hear its cacophonous patter on tin roofs. To exchange smiles and “pura vidas” as I walk through town. To start my morning with a heaping plate of rice & beans and fresh fruit, and to let the pace of my day be governed by nothing else but the ocean tides and early sunsets. 

Here, I am challenged to slow down and let go—one of Costa Rica’s most valuable lessons, especially for someone like me. 

I have always craved structure, stability and control in what happens next. (For all my astrology peeps— yes, I am a Taurus.)  In Boston, this was only heightened by the hustle of city life, the grind of the fitness industry and the “never stop” mentality of entrepreneurship. I lived in survival mode. I felt safe being unsafe. 

When I would visit home, it would take me almost my entire trip to adjust, to de-program. To accept that stores may close at random times of the day because they choose to, that the power will undoubtedly cut out with no expected time of being reset, and that (for beach life in particular) nature rules all. I’d finally get to a point where I was able to let go, to regulate my nervous system, to teach myself that feeling grounded, at peace and in flow with the pace of the universe is where I am safest. 

But then I’d jump right back into my old life and my false beliefs that the more I could accomplish in a single day, the happier and safer I would be.

So here I am again, unlearning and relearning, and hopefully for the last time.

This morning I woke up with the sun — and not a buzzing alarm clock like I would have before. Win. 

I nuzzled my hot cup of coffee and journaled — instead of inhaling the cup as I rush out the door to be at work by 4:30am. Another win.

I then wrote my incredibly unrealistic daily To Do list. — Hmm. 

As I said, I’m still learning. But, oh my gawwwd, do I love a To Do list.  In fact, I’ve been making them since I learned to write. My family still jokes at one that read:

1. Wake up

2. Pee

3. Eat a carrot

Honestly, a pretty solid start to any day. But my point is, I’ve always, always, needed structure. 

Fast forward 30-something years. The To-Do list I had written out for MY LIFE? Yeah, I lit that shit on fire. (And if you don’t know why — go read my first post). I now have no plan, I have no structure, I have no stability and, worst of all, I have to learn to be ok with that. 

So back to this morning. 

My eyes scrolled down my lengthy To Do list but then immediately darted to the lengthier list of notifications blowing up my phone. “Emergency Code Red”,  they all started. 

They explained that the entire Pacific coast of Costa Rica —and specifically the area I am currently living — is expected to be hit by a tropical cyclone over the next 7 days. I then lost wifi. And then lost power. 

*deep breath* 

The jungle rain I knew so well had taken a turn these last few days, so there was talk about this occurring. I had listened and packed up all my stuff. But with the recent flooding, road closures and canceled flights, there was no leaving town. My only option was to find a place to stay that was farther from the ocean and in no danger of landslides. I found one. I moved in. I had a plan and I accomplished it. 

With shelter, friends on speed-dial and plenty of snacks, there’s only one thing left to do: let go. I can’t reset the fallen power lines. I can’t reconnect the wifi. And I most definitely can’t control a cyclone. So the items on my list will not get done, not today, probably not tomorrow, and perhaps not for the next week as I wait for this to safely pass. All I can do is stay calm in the storm.

And as I continue on this journey of self-discovery and self-trust, I have to remind myself that no matter how much I try to control the uncontrollable, no matter how much I fight against forces stronger than myself, no matter how strongly those ingrained behaviors want me to believe I’m safest in the panic, I am actually, in this storm and in all the others life throws my way, safest, and strongest, in the surrender.