About Us

It’s just me.
(Plus the inner child, the anxious one, the shadowy baddie, the sacred survivor, the witch, the recovering codependent, and that soft version of me who finally feels safe. So when I say “us” I mean me and ALL of my parts that make me whole<3)

Hey, I’m Brandi — boy mom, girl grams, intuitive firestarter, and the creatrix behind The Jaded Nest.

This whole thing started after a total life implosion — divorce, addiction recovery, a Kundalini awakening, and one soul-snatching breakup that left me gutted. Somewhere between losing everything and finding myself again, I realized: I wasn’t broken. I was being cracked open.

The Jaded Nest is what grew out of those ashes — my business, my brand, and my home for everything I create. It’s the place I build for others walking through their own holy fire: folks who need nervous system-safe healing, rituals that actually work, and a space where you don’t have to fake “I’m fine” when you’re clearly mid-spiral, hoodie soaked in tears, surrounded by glitter, ash, and Squishmallows.

Inside The Nest lives MySpace Afterlife — the membership, the community coven, the collective container. It’s part healing portal, part creative studio, part safe space where we gather. Whether you’re rebuilding your identity, reclaiming your body, or trying to figure out what your 8th house Chiron has to do with your codependency… you belong here.

And the best part? You probably already have everything you need to start. When I began, all I had were some journals, an internet connection, and the ungodly inventory of trauma-response hoarding. Turns out, that was enough.

The Story Behind the Name

Why MySpace Afterlife?

Because healing feels like dying a little. Or a lot. It’s ego death, identity death, inner child CPR. And when I started rebuilding myself, I realized: I wasn’t the same person anymore. But I still missed the girl who set her Myspace song to Bright Eyes and trauma-bonded in glittery HTML.

So MySpace Afterlife became a nod to her — to us. To the ones who overshared on the internet before it was a brand strategy. To the inner scene kid, the soft weirdo, the survivor who wore so many masks she forgot what her own face looked like.

Now we come back to her — or forward, maybe — with nervous systems learning safety, with rituals, with community, with actual tools that go deeper than Pinterest quotes and shame.

This is the afterlife of the girl who kept pretending everything was fine. And we’re building it one journal entry, playlist, meltdown, and sacred product drop at a time — together, inside The Jaded Nest.