Call me Nel. I’m a simple gal, lover of nature and food enthusiast. My life has been a cosmic joke and, as of late, I’ve decided to laugh along with everyone else. I invite you to do the same.

Growing up without a role model can be a positive and negative deal. On the up side, I developed a very unique sense of ‘self’. I, also, trust myself more than the average joe and have developed my intuition to the point that it borders psychic awareness. Now, on the downside, I fail a lot. And I mean, A LOT. My experience is my teacher, not some third party, and that leaves me to my own devices when faced with new challenges and unknowns. Combine that with devilish curiosity and no shame and you have a recipe for disaster. ME.

My experiences may provide nothing more than comic relief to you, which is fine by me. But in the case that you do happen to glean some sliver of knowledge, some slice of advice – that would mean that I have succeeded as a human being.


I begin each year with a new theme. For example, 2016 was the year of “Facing My Fears”. Needless to say, it was an uncomfortable year for me. I have many fears and actively putting myself in a position where I am wishing for a quick death is idiotic. But I did it. And I’m glad I did.

You see, I’ve discovered that I am not actually as afraid as I once thought I was. What I was most afraid of was making a fool of myself, and in 2016, I made a fool of myself so often that my mind is callous to being judged. Now you may think that isn’t very wise of me, and perhaps it isn’t, but it’s opened a lot of doors. I never knew how much of myself I held back and how unhappy that made me until I refused to be governed by some vague notion of fear.

A fear that I shared with many people, I believe, was the fear of being Rejected. YES. Who wants to be rejected?? No one. Rejection cuts your ego in half with no mercy. It leaves you bleeding and crying in your shame and worthlessness; a messy and ugly puddle on the floor. Being rejected is the absolute worst. Or is it? Well, guess who found out. ME.

This year I experienced the trauma called DIVORCE. I’m only 25, mind you. But this isn’t where rejection reared its serpentine head. Hahahaha. No.

I was married for 3 years. In my last year of marriage, my husband and I invited our longtime friend to room with us, hoping to save some money on rent and help a friend out at the same time. Now our friend, we’ll call him Robert, was incredibly attractive. And charming. And talented. Did I mention he was incredibly attractive?

I never viewed him that way, though. In fact, I was his counselor in matters of the heart. Robert felt comfortable sharing his experiences with me, seeking advice from his older, sister-like figure. As time passed, Robert shared more of his dreams and opinions and less about romantic issues. We had a lot in common and enjoyed challenging each other’s views or building on one another’s ideas. We would engage in deep, mind-blowing conversation and he would take opportunities to touch me on the arm, my shoulder, my hair. As time passed, our relationship was beginning to feel much more intimate than a friendship should. I blame proximity. And then Robert moved out.

I was heartbroken. At this point, I had realized that I was trash who had neglected her husband and had fallen in love with a younger man. I didn’t care. My husband and I were always more friendly than sexual, and I was a HO FO SHO. I needed that sexual, romantic attention. So when I was swept away by Robert, I honestly wasn’t that surprised at myself.

After he moved out, we all still kept in touch. Robert would drop by pretty often to ‘chill’. We continued to deepen our mental connection as my husband and I drifted further apart.

It was Fall, 2016. I was in the middle of a move to another state. My husband had stayed behind to take care of our home and whatnot. I returned home after a rigorous job search to find that Robert was there. Have you ever felt like your heart would betray you by beating out. Of. Your. Chest? ME.

Ok, so, Robert is there, our eyes meet, and BOOM. Fireworks. AHHHHH. It was movie-worthy. The moment was so romantic and taboo, which to my wicked mind just made it that much more sexy. Don’t skewer me for my honesty.

That night, Robert confessed his feelings to me. To attempt to describe my emotions in words for that moment is ludicrous. But here’s my attempt: Confusion, ecstasy, sadness, regret, hope, love, diarrhea. Yeah, you read that right. I had the WORST CASE OF DIARRHEA at that exact moment because, you see, I’ve been on the road for the past week and it had left me rather irregular. I wish I was lying, I really do because his confession was so poetic and beautiful that I could have cried. Instead, I was crying from the extreme discomfort in my bowels. I couldn’t even form a coherent thought, from the pressure of holding back the blowout. I was entering dangerous territory and Robert just kept going on and on about how he just wants to see me happy and that I have a beautiful mind, and all I could think was ‘Please, for the love of God, LEAVE. I HAVE TO POO.’

The next morning I delivered the blow to my husband.. “This isn’t working.”

He wasn’t surprised. He was a bit shocked and hurt from the rejection, but he had expected it. Husband even admitted to thinking about being single at least Once A Day. Like a multivitamin.

Anyway. Fast forward.

A month passes by. I am living in a different state. I am alone.

I decided to contact Robert with a beautiful, soul-wrenching confession of my own. My intuition had raised some red flags but my train of thought was, “He confessed to me.. surely he still feels the same way. What do I have to fear?”


Yeah, his reply was, “The moment was a passing phase of the moon.”

I was REJECTED. Oh My God. I was dumbfounded. How could he reject, ME? This was supposed to be fail-proof.

Nah, Fam. Life is full of unexpected surprises. I do have to admit that being rejected was one of the most freeing experiences thus far.

I felt like that was the last link of the chain holding me down in that toxic mindset of I need to please. I was finally free to be myself. To pursue myself. To please myself.

I read his reply, sat still for a moment, and then exploded in absolute laughter. I laughed until I cried. I trampled that fear with absolute delight. I was rejected, and it was hilarious. And just like that *SNAP* I gained some sense of inner wisdom. I walked taller, prouder. Here I was, a divorced, 25 year-old Barista, living with her parents and being rejected by a former flame. I felt so strong for facing my fear of rejection; for being true to my feelings; for being open and uninhibited. I realized how depressed and boxed in I had felt these past three years and now, well, now the world was my oyster.