Twenty- Beavers

I’m going to stop labeling these as Rejections. They aren’t rejections until I get a no.

Let’s reframe this a little.

This morning, I applied to The Beaver Institute as Executive Director.

Have I done anything like this before? No.

Do I think I can do the job? Yes.

This is one of those asks that just fell into my lap.

I was doom scrolling instagram as one does, and the ad came up for the position. I love animals, I always search for beavers (haven’t seen one yet) and thought this was a perfect opportunity.

If they find someone better suited for the job, great. If they chose me, even better.

I Got a YES! Rejection Thirteen

I sent off a story I wrote, The Nightmare Animals, to Horrorsmith publishing.

They loved it.

It’s going to be published in there online magazine.

This one means a lot to me. I’ve been struggling with a lot of things lately. My health is one of them, but so is writing. I’ve decided to go a different direction for the time being. I wasn’t sure horror/thriller was even something I wanted to continue with. Having this story accepted proved to me that even though I struggle, I still can continue on, I still can keep going and create good stories.

Will I stop writing horror/thriller? I’m not sure where my writing will take me, but for now, I think I’ll follow where the mood leads.

It’s Been a While—Rejection Nineteen

I know, it’s been a while. I wondered if I was even going to continue on with this.

I am.

Today I applied for a photography job with the town of Groton. Now, Groton isn’t close to me and I’m not even sure I’ve ever been there. I couldn’t resist, when I saw the job posting.

Photographer wanted to capture the town and it’s important moments/places in order to help build a digital library of images.

That’s exactly my thing.

I applied, sent a proposal, link to my website, and a few images I thought were relevant.

I hope I get this one,

Fingers crossed,

The First Rejection-In Silence

The first rejection post I made on here was submitting to a local photography contest.

I had never submitted any of my photographs for anything,

They said the deadline for a decision was March. They didn’t specifically say when in March, but today is the 30th so I think it’s safe to say my photo wasn’t chosen.

I’m beginning to think the silence is worse than the no.

Silence allows you to hope.

It allows your imagination to breathe, to wonder what if .

With a NO, you know that’s it. There’s the answer.

I’m taking this silence as a firm no.

Double Rejection

This morning I opened my email.

A big fat NO sat in my inbox.

Yale.

I applied for a graphic designer position.

The thing about this one is I already received a No from them in January.

I guess this was just to push the point home.

You know, in case I forgot.

Rejection Eighteen-Churchill Classics

I haven’t done this in a while. It’s kind of fell to the back burner with everything else that’s been going on.

This morning I applied to a graphic designer position at Church Hill Classics.

I’m so eager to work a job that I’m actually passionate about,

For me, this one is about getting back into rejection.

Would I love this job?

Absolutley.

A change of direction would be amazing.

There’s nothing to do, but try and wait.

Whatever is meant for me will find me.

Rejection Seventeen-Selling a photo

This one came to me, but I’m going to count it anyway.

A local photographer emailed me. He had seen one of my photos on facebook. He is compiling photographs of Hamden for a client and wanted to present some options to her to hang in her building.

He chose this one.

He asked if I had any others he could chose from, so I sent him what I had.

Why I’m including this.

Even though he came to me, I could have said no. I could have said my photographs aren’t good enough to hang on a wall in someone’s business.

I could have sent only the one he asked for.

If his client choses none of my photos?

That’s okay. I feel honored to be thought of, to be sought out.

If they chose one? Even better.

This is important, not only because someone else sees the beauty, the potential, in my work, but because I put myself out there knowing it may be a NO all around.

Keep trying. Keep going.

It matters.

Another Rejection.

Hubspot sent the form “thank you for applying but we’ve gone another way.”

Am I suprised? No.

Sometimes this feels like an uphill battle, like all of the rejections will pile up to say :“See, I told you that you’re not good enough.”

The point of this is to not feel inferior every time I get rejected. The point is to get the rejections and keep going. The point is to not fear the sting of it, but rather welcome it.

This isn’t failing.

This is trying.

Rejection Sixteen- Assistant Graphic Designer

Today’s rejection therapy experiment: I applied for an Assistant Graphic Designer role at dsm-firmenich.

Design is strange like that.
You spend hours refining pixels, adjusting spacing no one else will notice, choosing colors that feel right before they look right. Most of that work happens in silence, in layers, in tiny decisions that never make it into a resume.

Submitting an application feels like flattening all of that into a PDF.

Part of me wanted to overthink it.
My portfolio isn’t perfect.
My experience isn’t linear.
Real designers probably started earlier, knew more, had clearer paths.

But design has never been linear for me. It’s been stitched together from book covers, photography, experiments, abandoned ideas, and the slow realization that this isn’t just something I do, it’s how I think.

So I applied.

Maybe they’ll say no.
Maybe they won’t say anything.
Maybe my work will be opened for ten seconds and forgotten.

Still, I sent it.

Because hiding is its own kind of rejection.
Because waiting to feel “ready” is just another form of delay.
Because somewhere between doubt and curiosity, I’m starting to believe my work deserves to be seen.

Today’s fear looked like a corporate design team and a global brand.
Today’s response was a quiet click on “submit.”

I treated my creative work like it belongs in the real world, not just in my hard drive.

Rejection Fifteen- Book of the Month

There are jobs you apply for because you should.

And then there are jobs you apply for because they feel like a secret version of your life you’re almost afraid to imagine.

Book of the Month Club was the second kind.

I’ve always been drawn to the space where books and design meet. Book covers, typography, mood, visual storytelling—these aren’t just aesthetic choices to me. They’re the first whispers of a story. The moment a reader decides whether to lean closer or walk away. So when I saw the opportunity to apply to Book of the Month Club, it felt less like a job posting and more like a dare.

So I applied.

I wrote about my experience designing book covers and working with visual narrative. I shared my portfolio. I tried to articulate something that’s hard to put into professional language: that I don’t just design things, I build atmospheres. I think in stories, shadows, textures, and emotions. I design with the reader in mind, with the understanding that a single image can shape how a story is felt before it’s even read.

Then came the part that made my stomach drop a little.

The job is in New York City.

Not just a different company. A different city. A different life. New York isn’t a small change—it’s a seismic one. It’s louder, faster, bigger. It’s the kind of place that demands more courage than comfort. Applying suddenly felt like more than a career move; it felt like admitting that I might be ready for something much larger than the world I’ve carefully built around myself.

And that was terrifying.

I almost didn’t hit submit.

But that’s the point of rejection therapy, isn’t it?

It’s not about chasing validation. It’s about practicing bravery in small, deliberate acts. It’s about choosing possibility over safety, even when the outcome is uncertain. Especially when it’s uncertain.

Will they say yes? Probably not.
Will it sting if they don’t? Probably.
Will I regret applying? Absolutely not.

Because today wasn’t just about applying for a job.

It was about acknowledging a quieter truth: that part of me wants more. More challenge. More creative space. More risk. More story.

Maybe nothing will come of this application. Or maybe it will. Either way, something already changed the moment I allowed myself to try.

Rejection Fourteen- Kindly Camera Bags

Today I sent an email to Kindly Camera Bags.

For a long time, I’ve carried this idea that you’re supposed to wait until you’re “ready” before you ask for anything. Ready meaning more followers, more credentials, more proof that you deserve to take up space in someone else’s inbox.

The truth is, I really do use their bag. It’s not a prop for photos or a brand I picked because it looks good on Instagram. It’s the bag I take with me when I’m photographing abandoned places, walking through nature in winter, or building tiny worlds with miniatures. It’s part of my process, part of the rhythm of how I move through creativity.

So I told them that.

And when I hit send, I felt the familiar surge of doubt.
The imagined rejection that arrives before the real one ever has a chance.

Rejection Therapy isn’t about chasing validation from brands or collecting polite no’s like trophies. It’s about unlearning silence.

But the important part already happened.

I asked.

RejectionThirteen- The Nightmare Animals

Today I sent out a short story.

I haven’t written much in the last two years.
Not because the stories disappeared, but because life got loud, heavy, and inconvenient.

In that time, I’ve submitted exactly one short story.
It got rejected.

And somehow, that single rejection became a wall instead of a door.

So today wasn’t just about submitting The Nightmare Animals to Horrorsmith Publishing.
It was about stepping back into a room I wasn’t sure I still belonged in.

I hit send anyway.

Maybe it gets accepted.
Maybe it gets rejected.
Either way, something important already happened:
I’m writing again.

Rejection Twelve- HubSpot

I applied to HubSpot today.
Resume updated. Cover letter upgraded to a very official PDF. Effort applied with intention.

For a moment, I pictured myself designing thoughtful, helpful work for a company that actually cares about clarity and humans. Then I reminded myself that the outcome isn’t the point. Showing up is.

Rejection Therapy isn’t about bracing for a no. It’s about refusing to opt out before someone else decides. I sent the application, closed the tab, and kept moving. No overthinking. No spiraling. Just forward motion.

If HubSpot says yes, amazing.
If they say no, also fine. I still did the thing.

Another application logged. Another step taken.

Rejection Eleven- Experiential Designer

Applied for an Experiential Designer role.

No rejection yet. No acceptance either. Just me, my portfolio, and an application floating somewhere in the corporate atmosphere like, “hello? is this thing on?”

Currently in the Waiting to Be Perceived phase of Rejection Therapy.

Still counts though. I aimed high. I hit submit. I did not talk myself out of it, which honestly deserves a small parade.

If they say yes, amazing.
If they say no, content.
If they say nothing, I will simply continue applying.

No-Yale Edition

Today’s “no” comes courtesy of Yale.
Applied for the graphic design role.
Did not get the role.
Still have the portfolio. Still have the ideas. Still standing on my little creative soapbox in Connecticut.

Rejection therapy lesson of the day:
Getting turned down by an Ivy doesn’t revoke your talent. It just means your work wasn’t meant for that hallway.

Onward.
More asks. More nos. Eventually, a yes that actually fits.

No Number 3

No. 3: SmallRig (Official Outcome Edition)

Update: it’s a no.

I asked. They answered. The universe didn’t implode. My lights didn’t turn off out of spite. Life continues.

Rejection Therapy scorecard:
• Fear: confronted
• Confidence: slightly louder
• Inbox: cleaner
• Ego: mildly bruised but resilient

A no just means I’m doing the thing instead of thinking about doing the thing. It means momentum. It means the next ask gets easier. It means I didn’t talk myself out of trying.

So thank you, SmallRig, for the clarity and the character development.

The Second Official No.

Apple said no.

Not a dramatic no.
Not a personal no.
Just a clean, efficient form email. Polite. Final. Neutral.

And honestly, that’s okay.

I didn’t reach out to Apple on a whim. I reached out because their technology played a real role in helping me keep my creativity alive during a time when I thought I might lose it. After undergoing scleral buckle surgery, my close-up vision changed in ways I wasn’t prepared for. Traditional art tools became difficult, sometimes impossible, to use.

The iPad changed that.

Its accessibility features and zoom functionality didn’t just make things easier. They made creating possible again. What felt like a door quietly closing was replaced by a different one opening. Photography, visual storytelling, digital creation. All of it continued because I was able to adapt instead of stop.

The outcome doesn’t invalidate the courage it took to ask.

You can be grateful and disappointed at the same time. You can log the rejection, take a breath, and keep going.

Apple’s answer didn’t change what their technology gave me. It didn’t erase the creativity that came back into focus. It simply reminded me that the value of asking lives in the asking itself.

So this rejection goes into the archive.
The story stays mine.
And the next ask is already waiting.

Rejection Ten-Yale

Today I applied for a role with a title big enough to make me pause before clicking submit.

Assistant Director.
Creative Content.
Graphic Design.

I asked myself the usual questions.
Am I ready?
Do I check every box?
Is my path “linear” enough?

Then I remembered why I started this project in the first place.

Rejection therapy isn’t about pretending fear doesn’t exist. It’s about letting it ride shotgun while you keep driving.

I’ve built my creative voice through doing. Through consistency. Through projects no one assigned me, deadlines no one enforced, and stories I felt compelled to tell visually. That counts. Even if it doesn’t fit neatly on a resume.

If the answer is no, I still win.
Because I didn’t shrink my ambition to match my comfort zone.

And if it’s yes?
Then I trusted myself at exactly the right moment.

Either way, this one mattered.

Rejection Nine-WWE

Today I applied for a Junior Art Director role at a place where creativity moves fast, visuals are loud, and storytelling matters.

Was I a little intimidated? Yes.
Did I apply anyway? Also yes.

I don’t have a traditional art school background. I have a Master’s in Criminal Justice, a camera, design software, a lot of late nights creating, and a brain wired for stories, details, and patterns. Turns out those skills travel pretty well.

This application wasn’t about “getting it right.”
It was about showing up, claiming space, and saying:
I belong in rooms where ideas are built at full volume.

If this becomes a rejection, that’s fine. Rejection therapy means collecting proof that I’m brave enough to try, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.

Either way, I’m proud of this one.

Rejection Eight- SmallRig

Today I sent an email to SmallRig asking for support for my photography.

Yes, my stomach did a little flip.
Yes, I reread the email twelve times.
Yes, I hovered over “send” like it might bite me.

I already use their lights. Especially for macro and miniature photography, where the difference between “meh” and magic is often a few millimeters of light and shadow. Their gear is already part of how I build tiny worlds and tell quiet stories, so asking didn’t feel fake. It felt… honest.

If they say yes, amazing.
If they say no, I still made the work.
If they never respond, I still showed up.

Today’s win wasn’t the ask.
It was pressing send anyway.

Tiny lights. Tiny worlds. Big courage.

This is an example of my set up. If you want to see the final, polished image, hop over to Day Twenty One in my Photo a Day series.