I didn’t expect my last email about retiring from photography teaching to touch so many of you. Truly. I pressed send, took a breath, and thought the moment would pass quietly. But instead, your messages began arriving, one after another. My inbox have never been this full!

I’ve spent the past weeks reading them, letting your words settle in my chest. Your reflections, your memories, your gratitude, your stories… they moved me more than I can express. I knew saying goodbye to two decades of photography teaching would feel big for me. I didn’t realize how big it would feel for you too.

So many of you have been with me for years, some a decade or more. You’ve grown through the courses, carried your cameras into your own lives, and let creativity, mindfulness, and small moments of courage shape your days. Some of you told me that the courses arrived at the perfect time. Others said they helped you through difficult times or opened a new way of seeing the world. Many of you described them as life changing and uplifting. I don’t take that lightly.

You shared stories of finding inspiration again after feeling lost, of feeling something wake up inside you when you first picked up your camera with intention. Many of you told me that photography arrived in your life during a difficult chapter, almost like a lifeline. A way to rediscover yourself. A way to see beauty again when everything felt overwhelming. Some of you used it to heal from burnout or grief or divorce. Others used it to reconnect with yourselves after years of putting everyone else first.

Many of you said my courses and posts became more than lessons. They became a companion. A reassuring presence when the world felt messy. A soft place to land on days when you needed encouragement or direction. A spark to remind you that your creativity is still alive, even in the heaviest seasons. Hearing this moved me deeply. It’s the kind of connection I never expected when I first began teaching, and it’s something I will always carry with me.

Menopause (r)evolution

My main reason for retiring from photography teaching was a deep desire to live with less tech, less time in front of a screen, and far less online overwhelm. Another part of this decision also comes from something many of us quietly move through: menopause.

It has shifted me in ways I didn’t expect. No one prepares us for how much it can shift a woman’s identity. It’s not only the body that changes. Something inside us rearranges too. The drive that once felt endless softens. The hunger for achievement becomes quieter. And the values that guided us for decades suddenly feel different, almost like they belong to an earlier version of ourselves.

For so many years, I defined myself through my work, my productivity, my ability to create and give and push forward. That was my rhythm. That was who I believed I was. But during menopause, something in me began to loosen. What once felt urgent no longer mattered in the same way. My ambition gently dissolved. I realised I didn’t want to climb anymore. I wanted to slow down. To live more in the real life. 

Menopause has a way of holding up a mirror. It asks us to look at our lives with honest eyes. It shows us what no longer works, what we’ve outgrown, what we’ve tolerated for too long. It brings us back to ourselves, sometimes tenderly, sometimes with a jolt. And in that process, our motivation changes. Our energy changes. Our values shift from doing to being. From striving to feeling. From achievement to presence.

This transition isn’t a loss. It’s a discovery. A return to the woman beneath the roles. A return to what matters, connections, softness, joy. For me, it has been a deep invitation to live more slowly, more intentionally, more fully in my own skin. And that shift is a big part of why I’m choosing a different path now.

Starting over in 2026

In the beginning of 2026 I will turn 52, and I’ve decided to give this next year to my own personal reinvention. A slow, curious and playful kind of reinvention. The kind that doesn’t rush or push or demand perfection before it’s ready to arrive. I want to give myself permission to experiment, to enter new doors and test new ways of working.

I still don’t know exactly what this new version of me will look like, and strangely, that feels freeing. What I do know is that I’m being pulled toward the practices I’ve studied, taught, and refined over the years; coaching, mind-body sessions, yin and restorative yoga, nervous system regulation, pilates, mobility training, meditation, posture work, and mindfulness.

All mind-body techniques that help women feel empowered, calmer, and more connected to themselves. I’m excited to bring these skills together. I just don’t know the exact form of how I will do that yet. That part is still unfolding.

And that’s why I created Soulful Letters; so I can take you with me as I explore, discover, refine, and build what’s next. A place where I can share my inspiration, the ideas forming, the experiments, the insights, the missteps, the growth, and everything in between.

Ageless reinvention

Is it scary to stop at the top of a fantastic career as a photographer? YES, absolutely. Am I doubting that I can create a new, successful path at my age? Of course. But I’ve made it my mission to follow my intuition and that little whisper inside. I’m choosing to listen bravely and jump into the unknown anyway. 

And while I’m jumping, some people might shake their heads and think I’ve lost my mind. But here’s what I’ve learned: the world will always have something to say, no matter what you do. You’re too old, too emotional, too fragile, too late.

But none of that defines you.

You have every right to take up space, to speak your truth, and to follow your heart without explanation or permission. Reinvention belongs to every woman brave enough to step toward what feels true; no matter her age.

So, if you’re standing on the edge of change, wondering if it’s too late, too strange, or too uncertain… I'm sharing my personal 2026 manifesto with you. A gentle reminder that reinvention belongs to all of us, especially now.

A Manifesto for 2026

#1. I give myself permission to begin again, no matter my age, no matter how many chapters came before this one.

#2. I trust the quiet whispers inside me, even when they ask me to step into the unknown.

#3. I allow reinvention to be slow, curious, playful, and imperfect. I do not rush what is still becoming.

#4. I no longer shrink to fit old roles or outdated expectations. I outgrow what no longer feels true.

#5. I choose a life with less noise, less pressure, and more presence. A life that feels like mine.

#6. I honor my intuition as my compass, my body as my home, and my wellbeing as my foundation.

#7. I let go of the idea that it’s “too late.” Reinvention has no age limit. Permission comes from within.

#8. I allow myself to evolve, to soften, to pivot, to expand. I am not defined by the past. I am shaped by what I choose next.

#9. I welcome the practices that strengthen and nourish me; movement, mindfulness, rest, mobility, nourishment, and emotional clarity.

#10. I trust that every small step, even the uncertain ones, are guiding me toward a life that fits who I am becoming.

#11. I surround myself with women who lift, inspire, and remind me that growth is always possible.

#12. I step into this new season with an open heart, a grounded body, and a willingness to be changed by what I discover.

This is my new beginning.

And I choose to walk into it; fully, bravely, and with both feet in.

If you wish to PRINT the manifesto click here >> 

This wraps up the first Soulful Letter. Thank you for reading along and for being part of my little corner of the world.

I always love hearing your feedback and thoughts on Soulful Letters. If there’s something specific you’d like me to write about or share, feel free to let me know. Your input means a lot to me.

With kindness,

Christina