From Disappointment to Discovery: How I Found My Way Into Farmers Markets

If my story began in a small apartment with a simple craving for sweet bread, the next chapter started with something far less sweet: disappointment.

Or maybe “a plot twist from the universe” is a better way to put it.

For months, I had been preparing to join a farmers market for the entire season. I had signed the contract, paid the fees, and was already planning how to equip the space. It felt like the moment I had been waiting for — finally having a physical place outside my home and basement to share my products with the world.

But my intuition kept whispering that something wasn’t right.

The first person I had spoken to — the one who interviewed me — had been incredibly kind. Everything felt aligned. But destiny, once again, had a very different idea for me.

A week before I was supposed to start moving equipment in, that little voice inside me insisted I should go ask a few questions. So I did. And that’s when everything unraveled.

The person who had interviewed me no longer worked there.

Someone new had taken over.

And this new person was… let’s say, direct.

“We already have our own bakery,” they said.

“And we already have a Mexican restaurant. We can’t have another one. Here’s your money back. Goodbye.”

Just like that.

No explanation.

No conversation.

No space for me.

In that moment, my world collapsed into sadness and tears. I had imagined this space so clearly — the setup, the customers, the chance to finally step out of my home kitchen. I cried for days, quietly, because by then I had three daughters and the last thing I wanted was for them to see me heartbroken.

And then came Sody.

One afternoon, she called me — one of my best friends, one of the constants in my life. She listened to me cry, she held space for my frustration, and then she said the words that shifted everything:

“Take a breath. Think about what else you can do. You already have everything you need.”

She was the ray of light God sent me in that moment.

For the next few days, she filled me with love, support, and reminders of who I was.

Yes… once again, Sody to the rescue.

I honestly don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I applied to the C-Space Farmers Market in Marda Loop. Then a Latina organizer created an event for Latina entrepreneurs — of course I applied. And suddenly, without even realizing it, my entire season was full. Farmers markets, pop-ups, community events… my calendar overflowed.

At first, it was overwhelming.

All the equipment I had was meant for a physical location, not a pop-up or outdoor market. So I turned to Pinterest and Instagram — my two unofficial business consultants — and started building a list of everything I thought I needed. I made an Amazon list, clicked “add to cart,” and off I went.

And then came the moment I will never forget: my very first market.

We sold everything.

Yes — everything.

We didn’t even have time to take a photo of the full setup because people were already lining up before we finished arranging the table. It was one of those magical days where all the hard work, all the tears, all the doubts suddenly made sense.

And I wasn’t alone.

My daughter was right behind me, watching, learning, absorbing every moment.

My parents and siblings — my forever first customers — cheered me on from afar.

My husband took on his unofficial role as my unpaid employee with love and humor.

And my community showed up with open arms, warm words, and so much support.

That first market wasn’t just a good sales day.

It was proof that I was exactly where I needed to be.

Farmers markets and events have taught me more than I ever expected.

About people.

About business.

About resilience.

About myself.

And trust me — there’s a lot more to share.

Those lessons are coming in the next blog entry.

For now, I look back at that “disappointment” with gratitude.

It wasn’t rejection.

It was redirection.

A push toward the community that would embrace me, challenge me, and help me grow.

Sometimes the universe closes a door because it knows you belong somewhere else — somewhere better.

Love… Thala