Allow me to (re)introduce myself.

Who am I, what made me and why I write: welcome life alchemists, those in the midst of their own making, who don't comply, who bloom in the desert and birth new worlds many times over.

Oct 20, 2024

Self portrait, September 2024. Clearly a fake laugh because I was photographing myself. My funny side doesn’t really come through that much on Substack but I am hilarious and I laugh a lot. Very loudly too.

In our first session my new therapist asked me what one of my favourite qualities about myself was.
”Courage” I replied, without skipping a beat.

Yet, most of the time, I am still afraid when I have to do something - anything. I do it anyway. Is that really courage or is it something else? When I thought more about why that is, I realised that maybe what I have more of than courage is curiosity. Because my desire to know what’s on the other side is bigger than my fear. Maybe what I have more of than courage is integrity. Because my desire to be aligned with my truth is stronger than my fear.
And so I do…and I go. And I jump. And I burn it down. As many times as I have to. Maybe “courage” was not entirely the right answer. It’s certainly part of it though. Courage is a muscle - it doesn’t precede action, it follows it. And it is an integral part of who I am, so let’s start here:

I have been writing on Substack for almost four years and have never ‘formally’ introduced myself. Parasocial relationships are endlessly fascinating because we can know so many things about someone’s life and yet - we don’t really know them. We piece together an image from fragments that someone chooses to share with us. Whether those are true or not - they’re always just a fragment.

Way before I started Life Letters I was already writing publicly (on something called a blog lol) and privately. My journals date back to when I was 13 years old. I have always been a writer but only called myself one for the last two years. I’ve had a lot of parasocial relationships since the Internet was born and many people have had one with me. Why you ask? Excellent question. When I began sharing my inner world online I was constantly questioned as to why I would do that? Why give people a platform to attack your vulnerability? Wasn’t I scared? Why do you share so much Nadia?
Simple: I share for someone who needs it.
That is the whole point.
There have been times in my life where I would have needed guidance, but I couldn’t call anyone I knew and ask: “If I leave my husband and move to a different country will I be ok?” Because I had no template. I did not know anyone who had left their husband and the country they lived in.
I had to jump without the reassurance of an example.
In times like these it was strangers on the internet or in books or on TV that would be that template for me, that reassurance, that hand to hold.
Over the last 12 years I have received probably thousands of messages from people who have told me things like: ”You have given me the hope to do xyz”
”Thank you for showing me this is possible” “Your story has given me courage”

This is the reason why I share. Why I put myself out there. For that one person who needs the hand to hold. This is the reason Life Letters exists.

So…Hi, I am Nadia! If you’re a curious and passionate person who’s a sucker for melancholy, you will love it here. You’ll also have to be able to handle my italian/german directness because I don’t mince my words (not the same as being unkind I’ll let you know!).

The most true thing I can tell you about myself is that I am a human in constant evolution. To use an overused but fantastic image: I am a snake shedding its skin. From one year to the next I recognise myself less and less - and weirdly, also more and more. I know who I am becoming feels more real, tangible, more me. At the same time I am so far removed from who I once thought I wanted to be and proclaimed to be that sometimes I look in the mirror and just shake my head. Like who the hell are you?! How did you get here?
Some people who have known me for over a decade tell me they don’t recognise who I have become. Don’t worry, I don’t either.

At 39 I am the person that my 29 year old self would have judged. But I guess, if you live long enough and do it bravely, you're going to attend many of your own funerals.
You're going to put yourself into boxes, then climb out of them and throw them away. You're going to carefully choose labels to define who you think you are, something to hold on to, an identity to feel safe in. And you're going to let go of many of them. You're going to internalize the labels others chose for you, until you're ready to be loyal to yourself. You're going to mourn your beliefs, what and who you loved, your convictions will change according to the size of your questions.
When you commit to growth, identity just means death and rebirth again and again.

They say feminine energy is like the moon, constantly changing the tides, moving things, setting things in motion, initiating, flowing like a river.
Well if there is one thing that is true about me it’s that motion defined me for the biggest part of 39 years. Ironically, I crave roots and stillness and have been searching for belonging all my life.

Being Sicilian means not being anything really and a lot of things at once. Greek, African, Iranian, Spanish and many more ethnicities that have occupied Sicily run through my veins. As if that’s not enough confusion my parents moved us to Germany when I was 2 years old, in search for, you guessed it, a better life. From then onwards they proceeded to move around every 3 - 4 years.
Not only did I grow up in a strict, traditional Sicilian home, but I also had the pleasure of being indoctrinated with evangelical Christianity straight out of the womb. I learned reading Italian by reading the Bible with my parents every night. And the Bible was the thing I followed to the t for three decades.
Feeling uprooted, displaced and untethered, holding on to a god was a welcome safety. Not that it really is a choice when you are raised in religion. But it made sense that I threw all of me into it. Made god my home. My life. My identity. My purpose.

I can’t tell my story without mentioning god, and sometimes I hate that. But I also know how huge it is to have a complete paradigm shift - from one life to another. From one worldview to another. Not many people get to do that. And with all the painful challenges that came with it, I can acknowledge how valuable that has been for my journey too. Unfortunately you don’t get to be defined by something for 33 years and then just stop talking about it. It bleeds into a lot of my writing, consider this a warning.

I got married at 23 to the ‘right’ church boy. Both of us babies, stuck in our trauma and only attracted to each other because of our wounds. His good christian parents didn’t like me because I wasn’t German. We got married anyway. Follow ten years of relational misery. But we looked great on the outside: traveling every week to a different destination to shoot a wedding together. Serving in church. Popular with our friends and clients alike.
I got a degree in theology because Jesus was my whole world. Because I wanted to know him better, understand him more, get closer to god. Ironically, studying the Bible was what made my whole world crumble. I was raised to believe that I was a sinner from birth, that there was nothing good inside of me. Everything that was good about me was outside of me - in Jesus. I was raised to become more like him. But also, they said, I am worthy because he loves me. Which one is it then?
Am I worthy or not? God-belief twisted my sense of self in so many terrible ways. Digging into the Bible brought up more questions than it answered. And the old men who tried to, didn’t seem convincing nor convinced. They seemed like they were gaslighting themselves too. Why is an allegedly good god actively responsible for so much death, genocide and destruction in the Bible alone, not even mentioning today?
How can god be all-powerful, all-knowing and all-loving at the same time? He can’t be all of those at once or else the world would look very different.
Why is there a scapegoat for when things go south (“it’s not god, it’s people who are bad!” Sure about that? Maybe check out Isaiah 45:7) but when things go well god gets the credit? Seems awfully convenient.

Contrary to popular opinions, I left my faith not because of people - but because of god. I cannot worship a figure this vile. God has all the traits of an abusive narcissist who wants to be worshipped but doesn’t speak to you, doesn’t support you, doesn’t reply, doesn’t take accountability, tests your love, plays mind games, - and all the while you convince yourself that this is love. Everything good about this person is fabricated in your head, but they’re really just torturing you. Straight from the abuser textbook.

My marriage played out in similar ways and I left it around the same time that I left god.
I convinced myself for over a decade that what I was experiencing was real love.
But love doesn’t ignore you. Love doesn’t remain silent. Love isn’t passive. Love isn’t stagnant. Love is interested. Love wants to grow. Love is curious. Love cares. Love shows up. Love isn’t something theoretical in my head. Love is action.

Where is the action Ex-husband? Where is the action god? Why am I dragging this waggon on my own?

Both my relationship with god and with the Ex-husband were upheld by me. Until I crumbled. Because relationships need relating to exist.

I left a shiny career as a destination wedding photographer, left international stages and recognition to start from scratch, not sure what would come next or what I even wanted. I just knew what I didn’t want. Up until four years ago my dream was to be the next Annie Leibovitz. Even though I didn’t say it out loud, deep down I desired a man who could spoil me, take care of me. Once again, I wanted to be saved by the patriarchy, by capitalism. Still not understanding that that’s not enough. I know now that I don’t want a soft life at the expense of others having a hard life. And that’s unfortunately the world we currently live in. I know now how connected we all actually are.
Now I want everyone to be saved. Saving myself was also not enough - the answer is and has always been the collective. I want to live in community, not the nuclear family. I want to divest, I want to fight. I want to leave a different world behind than the one I have found. My politics, priorities and goals have changed again. Drastically so. At a point in life where I thought those were settled, my values led me further, once again.
My biggest value is integrity, is truth. And that leads me to ask myself incessant questions. I rarely accept the answer just because. Always needing to dig further, act further, understand more. I love the core of things. I am never satisfied with less than the core. And yes, I am annoyed by myself too.

A year ago, I shed another skin. Now I find myself living a life that is so rich and deep and beautiful - not because it is perfect or I have achieved anything visible. But because it is honest and true to my values. I am actively building a community life that will hopefully be life-changing for a lot of people, not just myself. I am putting my actions where my words are and prioritising what I believe to be true now. What I know the world needs: Us. We are the ones that will save each other.

If you last saw me two years ago, you don’t know me anymore.
So I guess there is one thing that has not changed about me:
Whether I was a student disrupting class, a zealous christ follower arguing with my church elders, or a wedding photographer and teacher who was speaking against the industry:
I have always been called a radical. I question everything. Challenge everyone. Including myself. Everything I do I want to do with my whole being.
To my great exhaustion and annoyance, I don’t know any other way to live. Any other way does not make sense to me.
I am shameless. I don’t care about losing face because I am not keeping up a face. I see no reason to. The one thing I want is an honest and liberated life.

Who I am now? Many things, none of them fixed.

I am a human seeking truth and speaking truth. I am ruled by an irreverent spirit - I have little respect for what the world tells me to respect. And a lot of respect for the things we lost: trees. laughter. the pace of snails. grief.
My heart bleeds deeply and sparkles with joy. I am not nice, but I am love.
I am imperfect. I demand a lot. I am scared of the future. I am impatient and I am often envious of people. I am learning to live in the grey area when it’s necessary. I sometimes feel foolish about my many transitions, identities and changes. As if I am not doing life the right way, as if ‘real adults’ are laughing at me. I feel odd for having a zig zag life vs. a straight and smooth one.
I am infinitely proud of being led by my own knowing, for being able to trust myself the most now. I make a lot of people uncomfortable because I am free
and most nights I am a human who wants to be kissed in the nape of the neck and held until I fall asleep.

I don't know how many more women I have inside of me. But I'm looking forward to meeting myself again and again. Every next version of me is a coming home: more joyous, more expansive, more honest; and it's my honour to be her.

Thank you for being here with me, whether it’s been ten years or ten minutes. I’d love to know:
Who are you?
What brought you here?
Tell me about yourself please.

Allow me to (re)introduce myself.

Who am I, what made me and why I write: welcome life alchemists, those in the midst of their own making, who don't comply, who bloom in the desert and birth new worlds many times over.

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