Rejection Six- Apple

Today, I did the thing.

I sent an email to Apple.

Not a pitch wrapped in buzzwords. Not a perfectly polished brand deck. Just my story, told plainly, and the quiet question at the end: Would you consider supporting this work?

For my Rejection Therapy project, the point isn’t whether someone says yes. It’s whether I’m willing to ask at all. And this ask felt heavier than most.

Why Apple felt personal

Years ago, I had scleral buckle surgery that permanently affected my vision. Before that, I created art traditionally, drawing, painting, working with fine details by hand. After the surgery, those things became exhausting and, at times, impossible. I couldn’t see clearly enough to work the way I used to.

For a long time, I thought that part of my creativity might be over.

What changed everything was my iPad.

The zoom and accessibility features didn’t just make things easier, they made them possible again. Being able to enlarge my canvas and adapt visually allowed me to keep creating when I thought I might have to stop altogether. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the iPad saved my creativity.

So submitting to Apple wasn’t about asking for free technology. It was about acknowledging a truth: their tools helped me adapt instead of disappear.

What I asked for

I shared my current projects, including my Photo A Day series and my long-term project, One Photo From Every Town in Connecticut. I talked about how I document these projects publicly, how they center on showing up consistently, and how accessibility plays a real role in my ability to do the work.

And then I asked.

Would they consider supporting this work through donated or refurbished technology?
Would there be room for alignment with accessibility or creative storytelling?

I didn’t oversell it. I didn’t promise virality. I didn’t pretend certainty.

I just asked.

The part that matters most

Right now, I don’t know what the answer will be.

It might be no.
It might be silence.
It might be a polite redirect.

But that’s not failure.

For me, the win is in the submission itself. In choosing not to self-reject. In letting my story exist in someone else’s inbox instead of staying locked safely in my head.

Rejection Therapy isn’t about becoming fearless. It’s about acting anyway.

Today, I acted.

And regardless of the response, I’m proud that I did.