The Universe Gave Me a Pop Quiz. I Almost Failed It

On Thursday, I told you I went to a psychedelic retreat two weeks ago—and that three days after I got home, I broke my foot.

I promised to tell you more about what that means. Here's the story.

The retreat was everything I hoped it would be. I went because I'd done years of healing work but knew there was a deeper layer I couldn't reach through conventional methods. The gap between what I knew and how I lived had become impossible to ignore.

I came home feeling more integrated than I had in years. Clear about what needed to change. Ready to build differently.

Three days later, I was staying at a rental house (we have a leak in our roof and had to move out while it's being fixed). I'd just finished an amazing call in the Collective—high energy, beautiful connection, the kind of moment that reminds me why I do this work.

I decided to go sit in the backyard. Sunshine. Fresh air. Continue the integration.

I went to step down off the back stoop so I could sit on the step, and I rolled my ankle. Badly.

It was super painful when it happened, but I thought, maybe it's not that bad. But I have a rare, genetic, degenerative neurological disease, Charcot-Marie-Tooth (CMT), which won’t kill me, but means that as I age, I get increasingly clumsy, prone to falls, and likely to hurt myself worse than I realize.

So, as the day progressed, I knew I needed to go to urgent care. They took X-rays and told me it was broken.

I've since seen an orthopedic surgeon. He's not sure it's actually broken—I'm waiting on orders for an MRI to find out more.

But here's the part that stopped me cold:

If the bone they identified is indeed broken, it's one I broke 11 years ago.

And three and a half years ago, I broke my other ankle in almost the exact same way. Taking a single step off the back deck. Rolling it so badly it snapped. Literally, I heard the crack telling me it was broken. Ugh.

I remember what I told myself three and a half years ago when I broke that ankle:

Oh, this is the universe trying to slow me down.

And then I didn't listen.

I'd just taken a day job, and I told everyone—including myself—"Well, I have nothing else to do, so I might as well just work."

I had literally taken that day job because I realized that I was letting entrepreneurship fuel my addiction to busyness and I knew it was literally killing me and STILL I didn’t learn.

I worked 14-hour days. Eight hours at the day job, then another six or more doing freelance. I was on crutches, immobilized, and I used that immobility to justify working constantly.

I pushed myself to the breaking point. I wound up with major hormonal issues afterward because I'd completely burned myself out. My body was screaming, and I just... kept going.

I got the lesson. I understood it intellectually. And I did absolutely nothing different.

So here I am again. Different ankle, same lesson.

Three days after a retreat where I finally felt—not just understood—what it means to slow down, to trust my body, to build sustainably...

I get handed a pop quiz.

Did you actually learn it this time?

Part of me wanted to laugh at the timing. Part of me wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to be furious at whatever cosmic force decided that this was how the lesson needed to land.

But mostly, I felt something I didn't feel three and a half years ago:

Gratitude.

Not gratitude for the injury—let's be clear, this fucking sucks. I'm in pain. I can't walk normally. I'm dealing with medical uncertainty and logistics and all the mundane frustrations that come with being suddenly disabled.

But gratitude for the timing. For the unmistakable clarity of it.

Whether it's the universe, my body, my nervous system, or just a weird coincidence—something is giving me a real shot at doing this one differently.

Here's what I'm not doing this time:

→ I'm not telling myself "might as well work since I can't do anything else."
→ I'm not using immobility as an excuse to be productive.
→ I'm not pushing through, powering through, optimizing my recovery for maximum output.

Here's what I am doing:

→ Resting. Actually resting.
→ Letting people help me.
→ Moving slower—literally and metaphorically.

Trusting that the business will be fine. That the opportunities aren't going anywhere. That building with intention is more important than building with speed.

I'm doing the things I talked about on Thursday—the 90-minute work blocks, the rituals instead of rules, the deliberate slower growth—not as nice ideas, but as actual practice.

Because I finally understand something I only knew before:

The lesson keeps coming until you learn it.

I'm done learning this one the hard way. And ready finally to integrate its lessons into my life.

I teach Element 5—Embodiment—because I know how critical it is. You can have the best strategy in the world, but if you don't become the version of you who can live it, it stays just ideas.

I've been teaching that for years.

And I've been living proof that knowing isn't enough.

The retreat cracked something open. It gave me access to a felt sense of what integration actually means—not just the concept, but the experience.

The foot? It's making sure I practice.

I don't know exactly what changes are coming for me and for this business over the next few months. I just know there will be many. The integration has just started.

And I'm going to share all of it with you. The insights, the struggles, the adjustments, the breakthroughs. Because that's what I promised when I started The Essentialist CEO: to pull back the curtain and let you learn alongside me.

This is the curtain. This is me, learning.

I'm sharing all of this because I suspect some of you have your own version of this story.

A lesson that keeps coming back. A pattern you understand perfectly but can't seem to break. A gap between what you know and how you live that feels impossible to close.

Maybe you haven't broken any feet. But maybe your body has been sending signals you keep overriding. Maybe life keeps delivering the same message in different packaging. Maybe you've intellectualized your growth without actually integrating it.

I'm not saying you need a psychedelic retreat or a broken bone to change.

But I am saying: pay attention.

→ What lesson keeps showing up for you?
→ What would it look like to actually learn it this time—not just understand it, but live it
→ What's your body, your life, your nervous system trying to tell you?

Here's what I know now:

The entrepreneurs who build businesses that last aren't the ones who push through every obstacle.

They're the ones who learn when the obstacle is the lesson.

They're the ones who close the gap between knowing and embodying—not through more information, but through practice. Through actually doing it differently when they get the chance.

They're the ones who don't need to break the same bone twice to get the message.

I'm learning to be one of them. Finally.

I hope you'll join me.

In love and growth,
Kasey