If you glanced at my LinkedIn, you’d see what looks like a hyper-organized portfolio life:
– Consultant by day, part-time MBA by night straight out of undergrad
– Co-founder of an early-stage startup, riding through multiple exits
– CMO & venture capital role, investing in people and ideas I’m passionate about
– Modeling, public speaking, and having a blog with thousands of readers
But what you wouldn’t know is how I got here:
The rejections.
The email silences.
The cringe-worthy first drafts.
And most of all — the choice to keep showing up when no one was cheering yet.
The Quiet Practice That Kept Me Going
When I was living through those rough, non-linear career years, I started meditating.
Not in some peaceful Zen garden — just 10 minutes on the floor of my apartment before a long workday.
Meditation didn’t make rejection disappear. It didn’t cure the fear of public failure.
But it put space between stimulus and response.
When that rejection letter came, when that meeting crashed, when that casting director said no to me — I didn’t spiral (so much).
Meditation taught me what rejection couldn’t wear down:
My ability to try again.
The Myth of Being Ready
At 24, pretty much everything I do now I wasn’t technically “qualified” for
I didn’t join VC because I was the best fit. I emailed investors, asked stupid questions, and one day someone took a chance on me.
I didn’t land a CMO role because I’d spent ten years of marketing experience. I ran scrappy campaigns, figured it out as I went along, and created brands from the ground up.
I didn’t begin a blog because I was a good writer. I wrote because I had something to say.
I came to realize: doors do not open when you are ready.
They open when you are ready to knock — clumsily, imperfectly, and way sooner than you are ready.
Rejection Is the Tuition You Pay for Growth
Rejection was once a dead-end street for me. Now it is tuition.
When no one read my first blog posts, I didn’t quit — I wrote higher-quality articles.
When I bombed my initial fintech panel Q&A, I didn’t muzzle myself — I rehearsed more.
When I didn’t get the startup job I sought, I made my own projects.
Every “no” gave me criticism. Every cringe moment gave me insight.
Embarrassment Isn’t Failure — It’s Exposure Therapy
My first speaking engagement on stage, my hands shook.
The first time I modelled, I had no idea my angles.
The first time I pitched a startup idea, I stumbled over my words.
Confidence wasn’t the beginning.
Action was.
So, eventually, I learned:
— You build confidence by showing up fearful.
— You get through the cringe and find out. it wasn’t deadly.
— You open new doors by entering before you feel like you fit in.
What Meditation Reinforced
You are not your job title, your resume, or your rejections.
Meditation has taught me how to observe rejection without taking it in.
Everything passes.
The cringey meeting is humongous today. Next week, you won’t even remember it.
Presence > perfection.
I don’t have control over other people’s reactions to my work. But I do have control over how present I am when I step into the room.
Networking Without the Cringe: What Helped Me Build Real Relationships
At age 24, I wasn’t networking to impress anyone — I was networking to learn.
My basic playbook:
Send warm, personal DMs:
“Enjoyed your founder mental health podcast — interested in how you put that into practice at your Series A level.”
Give value first:
Instead of asking for advice, I’d send some market research, a helpful article, or introduce them to someone they’d like to meet.
Follow up without ego:
Most busy people aren’t rude. My best shots were follow-up emails 2 weeks later.
Go where others aren’t looking:
I leaped onto obscure Slack groups, MBA founder meetups, and VC fellowships most people my age didn’t know existed. That’s where I received startup job listings and investor connections.
Send quarterly updates to mentors:
Rapid check-ins such as:
“Working on an AI fashion app, just finished my VC internship, and finishing up another MBA semester. Hope to help your projects soon as well.”
No ask, just keeping the connection warm.
The Lessons I Keep Returning To
Rejection doesn’t shatter you. Silence won’t.
Send the email. Pitch the idea. Worst that could happen? You stay where you are. Best? Nothing short of everything changes.
No one’s watching your every move.
You’re overthinking that cringey meeting. They’ve already moved on.
Take your craft seriously, not yourself.
Laugh at the bad drafts. Celebrate the cringe. Keep going.
Consistency > credentials.
The ones who survive aren’t the most polished — they’re the most persistent.
The Doors Open When You Stop Waiting for Permission
I didn’t wait to have a perfect resume before pitching investors.
I didn’t wait to be the best speaker before picking up the mic.
I didn’t wait until my blog had a thousand readers before publishing.
I moved before I was ready — because readiness is an illusion.
If You’re 24, 34, or New to the Game — Here’s What I’d Tell You
✨ Send the cold email that scares you.
✨ Interview for the job you’re 70% qualified for.
✨ Release the ugly first draft of your idea.
✨ Cast an application for the thing you don’t feel prepared to do.
Humiliation and rejection are not signs you’re failing.
They are signs you’re trying.
And that is where the learning takes place.
Last Thought: Start Ugly, Start Anyway
Every career achievement I celebrate today — VC, startups, modeling, writing, school — started with me having no clue how to do it.
Meditation let me just sit with the discomfort.
Action let me work through it.
If it feels awkward, scary, or confusing. that’s your signal to begin.
No one builds a meaningful career without a couple of cringe stories.
Wear yours proudly.
And keep going.