THE INTEGRATION
This is long. Thanks for listening.
I’m tired, a little defeated, but still ridiculously optimistic. Because this is only temporary, a glitch in the matrix. These contractions will push something greater into being. I’m in labor with life itself, waiting to give birth to something bigger, brighter and better.
I’ve been in a state of complaining, but I’ve come to my conclusion that its not complaining, its a state of self-expression. It’s just being real and honest about how I’m feeling. And the truth is, I feel a lot. Especially now, and I’m not sorry for that. In the past I’ve been shamed for it. Feeling deeply is my superpower and my way of showing up and staying connected to myself.
But labor is uncomfortable.. From what I hear. I haven’t actually birthed a baby but after evaluating life I’m open to it. But this is also of painful and uncomfortable. But through contractions come creation. Creating a new life.
I landed back in the States in early June, and in the short time since, there’s been so much to process.
I’ve felt everything all at once, sometimes too much to even put into words. But I know myself well enough now to recognize this is simply how I move through change..by sitting with the mush, the mess, the chaos, the uncertainty..and waiting for it to settle. Like the calm after a storm, when the dust finally clears and the path ahead begins to reveal itself. The storm is still here, but so is the path.
Ex-pats in Costa Rica call the United States aka Western Society, “The Matrix” for reason.
I feel blitzed, disoriented… like I’m being plugged into (the matrix) a 24/7 electrical current. For God’s sake, I just spent a year and a half living in the jungle!
There life was still. Silent. My daily interactions were mostly with nature. With the elements. I was wrapped by green foliage, woken up by Howler Monkeys howling. The constant soundtrack was birdsong and buzzing insects. The energy felt pure, slow, steady and deeply nurturing.
Sometimes it felt a little too still, like my life was drifting to a state of pause. And in that I was deeply craving a jolt of energy. Something to turn me back ON.
One plane ride was all it took to crank life up to full blast.
Part 1: Espresso: An Art Form. A Love Making Ritual
Now I’ve swung to the opposite side of the spectrum, to the opposite extreme. I’m now twisting and turning through the inner dwellings of a damn circuit breaker, navigating an urban current thats pulsating nonstop.
Now I get why people are hooked on caffeine. It’s the matrix FREQUENCY.
It’s like plugging straight into the current. Sustainable? No. But where I’m petsitting I have this beautiful Profitec Go Espresso Machine at my use (TY Jacs & Tooter). After I snuggle with Stevie, I roll out of bed like a true addict, pulling shot after shot of espresso like it’s my morning fix.
Have you actually made espresso? Like from a real espresso machine? It’s an art form. A love language. And somewhere along the way, my ritual of pulling shots shifted into something deeper… a meditation that brought me back online into actual presence.
But first, espresso. EXpresso-sion (expression + espresso).
Every morning I step into the slow ritual of espresso.
A very intimate experience thats a kind of love making. An art form of pure intention. There’s precision in it: the weighing, the spritzing, the grinding, the waiting for the machine to reach 93 degrees exactly. PRECISELY. Then the obsessive cleaning.. Resetting everything back to a spotless canvas for the next fix.
There’s patience too like you can’t rush a good espresso, and you can’t fake the care it takes.
It’s a ritual, and every step matters. Skip one and the whole feng shui is thrown off. The ritual demands respect: each step followed with intention, or else the magic is lost.
And honestly? That’s life right now. In this chapter of new beginnings, I’m learning to savor the process rather than sprint to the outcome. Like espresso, it’s about presence, detail, ritual and trust that if I keep showing up with intention and consistency, something rich, bold, and beautiful will come through.
It’s like the giving birth analogy but make it Italian. “The ancestors would be proud.” -Fabrizio (miss you, friend).
Part 2: Balancing the Extremes
Now that I’ve experienced two extremes, I’m putting them together and making a baby. Birthing something new from both. Can you tell I have baby fever?
Hell, there’s so much beauty in it. More beauty than not.. this integration of extremes: bringing what I experienced in Costa Rica into my new life. I knew this transition wouldn’t be easy, and it hasn’t been. It’s challenged me to finally take off the rose-colored lenses and really see my reality for what it is.
Here’s the reflections. The observations. The action steps. Thanks for witnessing.
After a year and a half away from my old life, a lot has shifted.
I mean Boulder went from being the Tesla capital of the world to full-on Rivian take-over. And now, every Tesla in the state of Colorado seems to be sporting a sticker that basically screams “F*** Elon”.
I don’t want to get political so dont @ me. This is was a shocking observation.
A lot of my values, goals, and visions have shifted. In Costa Rica, I met myself in my truest expression and now I’m bringing that version back with me, trying to adapt to this “new old” life. It feels like new terrain. Every day is a mix of self-awareness and problem-solving, leaning on what I call “using discernment” rather than just vibes to guide my decisions. The kind of choices that are helping me flourish.
Right now, I’m questioning: what’s life-giving? What’s the fountain? What’s the drain?
I’m searching for the things that overflow with spirit and passion, not suck the soul right out of me.
Part 3: Surrendering to Support
Navigating this new terrain is straining. What once worked no longer does. Especially doing it all alone.
For a decade, I wore the badge of independence, proudly and unapologetically, screaming and shouting from on top of the peaks I climbed and all over my social media.
“I AM the woman who can do everything herself. Watch me, I don’t need no man to hold my hand. Build my furniture. Fix my bike. I don’t need anyone to travel with me.. Look I do it all by myself!” A true renegade woman.
But I’m rewriting that story. Cause it was lonely. Costa Rica taught me the true value of community, surrendering to softness and the power of asking for help and support. I used to view that negatively.. Like “I don’t need help.. shame on you for even thinking that..”
For so long, I believed independence was my strength. I wanted people to SEE me for that. But I see now that real strength is in reaching out and allowing myself to be supported. To feel supported. And offer support to the ones I deeply love.
The way my friends and family have shown up has been profound! I feel loved in a way I haven’t before, deeply heard and grateful. I couldn’t do this without them. My four quarters. My life’s mantra is four quarters or one hundred pennies (thanks to Annie!)
Quality over quantity. Smaller, more intimate and meaningful circles of people is much more valuable and special. Its the glue thats been holding me through this transition.
That’s the beauty of community: it reminds us we were never meant to do it all alone.
Part 4: Invaluable Expensive Lessons
In September 2024, I sold literally everything I owned in Colorado. I was a full-on devotee, committing myself entirely to Costa Rica. I cleared out my storage unit..my bikes, my car (RIP Zenhaus), skis, brand name items, threw away my art, my collection of kitchen ceramics, lights, and wooden accents that once gave my corner apartment in North Boulder that cozy Southwest Taos vibe. All the little things that made it home.
That October I went back to Costa Rica, put down a fat deposit and signed a year lease. Within a month I realized I made a huge mistake.
For my birthday, I wanted to celebrate doing what I love: singing, dancing and eating, so I put together a Kirtan and Potluck party. I invited A LOT of people.. And only a handful of people showed up (TY. I love you). My heart was wrecked. It forced me to stop and ask: Do I even have true community here? Do I even belong here?
The loneliness hit hard, and the depression that followed was heavy. I retreated. Around that same time, my health started to unravel. It felt like my body was screaming at me “Get out of Costa Rica.” It only took me about seven months and a few family interventions to accept my fate and pull the Costa Rica plug. (Okay somatics, I hear you. I FEEL you.)
But here’s the truth: home really is where your heart is. Selling it all, gifting stuff to friends, leaving stuff on the side of the road, turned out to be the ultimate spring cleaning. The ultimate letting go. A reminder not to cling too tightly to STUFF, to material things, to trust myself enough to let go and move forward. It’s been one of my biggest lessons.
An expensive one. Especially if you go two years without car insurance, they’ll triple your rates. (Consider that a PSA.. know before you go.)
I got my Master’s in Life education in Costa Rica. I threw myself into an intensive. I built a business, found success, and then caught a vibe and decided to become a “spiritual goddess.”
During that chapter, I hired a “so-called” business mentor to help me embody my “feminine side.” Her advice?
“As a Projector in Human Design, you’re not meant to work. You should rest. Wait for the signs to show you what to do.” Aka Float on my lily pad and hope for the best.
I didn’t use discernment. I commit, hard, and take things very literally, I followed a long, tough, and very expensive lesson… complete with an Oscar-worthy performance.
But hey, I learned a lot. It was worth it.
Part 5: The Hostage Situation
In June 2025, I officially left Costa Rica.
I landed in Tennessee with a plan: job hunt, find a car, and then head back to the homeland.. my mountains of Colorado. Easy, right? Wrong. My parents basically held me hostage.
HOSTAGE SITUATION. ALERT.
First came the Tennessee license fiasco. According to my mom, my perfectly fine Colorado license, with an old address (an address that doesn’t exist because my apartment building burnt down) was, according to her, basically a federal crime. I didn’t even have a car, but when you’re under their roof, you play by their rules otherwise you will remain in a hostage situation. For longer than you should.
Then came the car hunt. Every car in my price range was, in my dad’s words, “too old” “too cheap” or “too many miles.”
“But its not your car. I’m buying the car.”
His solution?
“Honey, you need a car that will last. That can handle the mountains. And you need something nicer. I’ll just buy you a car.”
To which I begged, please don’t. I’m 33 years old. My parents can’t be supporting me. The point was to take accountability for selling off my life, not have Dad swoop in and pay for my mistakes with a brand new ride.
After weeks of research and finally letting go of the RAV4 Zenhaus 2.0 fantasy, I landed on a shiny white used VW Tiguan with buttery tan leather seats. Sexy. Sophisticated. Element-ready. A serious upgrade from the KYMCO ATV.
It was love at first test drive. Smooth ride, powerful acceleration. I was sold. Freedom! The mountains are calling and I am fckn outta here!
So on a beautiful Monday, I rolled into the dealership ready to seal the deal, Dad and Brody as my witnesses. Papers on the desk. Keys practically in my hand. And then… the insurance. THE INSURANCE. It hit me like a bat out of hell.
I stared at the Geico app in disbelief. After two years without a car my monthly rate tripled. I couldn’t breathe. My face turned purple. Dustin at VW froze, his face turned white. My dad petted Brody, who silently agreed with him to just play it cool. Meanwhile, my chair turned into a swamp and stars danced across my vision. Cue meltdown. Breathwork. Pep talk. Inner crisis. And finally, the words came out:
“I’m out. I’m not buying this car.”
And just like that, I walked away.
Still haunted by selling the Zenhaus.
I came home feeling defeated, a tad unhinged, plotting my way out of the hostage crisis. And then, bless their hearts, my parents delivered the plot twist of a lifetime:
“Mom needs a new car. You take hers. Drive it to Colorado. But Kat, it’s a Mercedes Benz. Treat it like one.”
Wild Kat driving a Benz. How cute. No off-roading. No mountain roads. Or I’ll be paying a hefty price. Mercedes parts are expensive.
I’ll take it. #Grateful
Part 6: Homecoming: Plot Twists
So now here I am, rolling into Colorado in a white Mercedes GLC 300. Cute, shiny, fully housewife vibes. A year (to the week) my parents handed me a key to the Benz I posted a picture of my ATV to my IG story:
“People in the States trying to keep up with the Joneses racing around in their German-engineered status symbols, and I’m out here blissfully rough riding the jungle roads on my ATV.”
How things, drastically, change in a year.
Looks like I’ve accidentally entered my suburban mom era. Is this a premonition? Knox thinks so. He said it was actually “very fitting”. Especially with a dog in tow. “You look like a 65 year old Boulder housewife.” 65, really? Thanks, Knox.
When I moved back to Colorado (guided by equal parts logic, existential crisis and vibes), my amazing friend Michael, welcomed me into his home while I figured out my next steps. Bless this man. He gave me space to land, belly laugh (THE BREWS), ugly cry and attempt to process my grand re-entry into the corpocracy aka my first job back from Costa Rica.
And plot twist: it was a contract to hire situationship. Situationships never end well. Spoiler: it tanked. They broke up with me today actually..the first job that’s ever dumped me. My ego? Bruised. My soul? Absolutely shining. Especially since, in perfect divine timing, I picked up two freelance gigs the same day.
As my friends said “You manifested this!!” I did.
My body called it from day one. I’m so in-tune somatically that I couldn’t ignore the signs. Panic, anxiety, full-on nervous system meltdown. I couldn’t figure out the job. I kept fucking up, not intentionally… I just couldn’t help myself.
I couldn’t tell what was causing the riff. If it was re-integrating into the matrix.. the constant city overstimulation.. or just being back in a corporate setting where I have to play by rules again..Decode office politics. Learn a new role. Go into an office. Read the culture. All while trying to hold it together driving through downtown Denver traffic, just praying I don’t get hit by a car on the way to the office.
I energetically got hit by a car.
Michael deserves a medal for holding space while I spiraled. Running downstairs in a panic so he could be my sounding board before I tried to curse someone off that day. Questioned my entire career path. Which helped me realize that maybe my purpose isn’t LinkedIn approved.
I want to say, this was a great team with great people. It just didn’t work out for both of us. No bad vibes.
All in all, the biggest revelation is city life is not for me anymore.
Now that I don’t need to go to an office so I can say farewell to Denver. Too much noise, too much traffic, too much stimulation. Too many bad drivers. Too many fratlandias. Too many Doodle-hybrids.
So as I started the hunt for my own place again life handed me a divine redirection. More and more friends began reaching out for pet and house sitting. And instead of resisting, I opened to it. It’s been unexpectedly grounding and right now, I’m choosing to surrender to where it leads.
Part 7: Divine Redirection: Your Dogs Adventure Pal & Your Cats Cuddle Concierge
After the job break up and my newfound enjoyment of petsitting, I stumbled upon, Trusted Housesitters, a total blessing and one of my greatest life hacks yet. Since now I can work remotely, I have the ability to travel, care for animals, and have my emotional needs met in such a fulfilling way.
No leases, no commitments, just the freedom to explore, roam, and see where I want to eventually plant roots.
And that’s what I want most.. to create a home of my own, filled with little touches that make it uniquely mine. But I’m not rushing it. Like pulling the perfect espresso shot, building a home will be an art form.. oh here I go again.
Crafted slowly, intentionally, and with care. With precision.
As I paint that canvas, I will spend a few weeks in different mountain towns, feeling into the rhythm of each place, observing what community looks like there, and letting furry companions keep me active and grounded along the way.
And with a touch of baby fever… my mothering instincts are kicking in. Caring for animals is domesticating me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
It truly brings me joy to care for these little souls. There’s purpose in waking up to make sure their needs are met because, in their own way, they’re helping meet mine too. It’s a responsibility I’ve been craving, a soft balance to my old pattern of doing everything alone. I used to envy friends and ex-boyfriends dogs.. I mean their life revolved around their pets. But now, I get it.
As my dad always joke, “If you lock your dog and your wife in the trunk of a car, who’s going to be excited to see you when you open it?”
They love you unconditionally. Your wife will divorce you.
Finale: A Creative Shift
Back in 2023, I set out to create a new life in Costa Rica. I learned through surrender and through trusting the flow of life. As a human we are all creators, we just forget because we get jacked in the system.
That chapter showed me that with the right tools and the right energy, I can bring anything into existence. Costa Rica was full of lessons, but it also revealed what wasn’t sustainable for me long term.
And it’s left me here, in this reckoning, homecoming, reevaluating not just my future but my creativity itself and how I can use it to shape the life of my dreams.
For so long, creativity meant graphic design.. my career.. hustle culture and proving I could build a business, wear all the hats, do everything all myself. That version of art consumed me, and it doesn’t feel sustainable anymore.
Now, I’m navigating new terrain, trying to understand who I am as a creative, and how I can use this new form of creativity not just to produce, but to create a life that feels aligned, nourishing, and whole.
Maybe I’m an artist defined in a new way…an artist as a mother, creating and birthing life into this world. Maybe my art looks like espresso and a neighborhood coffee shop, a space for creatives to work, friends and families to connect.. where I offer my craft through the ritual of pulling a shot. Or maybe it’s design, continuing the work I know, but led by new values.
This homecoming is a reckoning, a redefinition, an opening to whatever this next chapter holds.
But in the end, it’s not about the career or the titles.
It’s about connection and people who I love.
Things that make me feel purpose and light.
How I pull the shot.. call the shots.. slow, intentional, precise, with care.
The art of espresso has become the art of my life.
And finally, I’m creating something bigger than myself.
Thanks for listening.