Self-portrait

This newsletter was already written and ready to be published, but life, once again, took one of its unexpected turns, a sad one this time.

After eleven wonderful years together, my little cat Tuli passed away. She was my greatest companion. From the moment she arrived, she was always by my side: we slept together. She lay next to me while I worked. She sat near me when I cooked. And whenever I felt sad, she curled up close.

She was a small animal, but she’s left a huge emptiness.

Only now can I think of her without crying uncontrollably. I feel at peace knowing she lived a full, happy, and loved life, and that, when the time came, she left suddenly and without pain. I miss her deeply, but I’m endlessly grateful for all we shared. From Argentina to Italy, through different homes and big life changes, Tuli was there.

She is part of who I am. And that’s why it feels like a part of me left with her.

Thank you, Tuli. I’ll miss you so much.

And now, back to the newsletter. Today I want to talk about something I had promised in the very first edition of this newsletter: self-portraits.

And to introduce the topic, I thought it would be nice to show you the illustrations I made for the Starter Pack – No AI Challenge.
They are small glimpses of my world, through my own hands. And they connect directly with what I want to share with you today.

I’ll be honest with you: the main purpose of this newsletter is not just for you, it’s for me.
For the first time in a long time, I’m doing something without analyzing it afterward. I’m not checking how many likes it gets, or how many people read it. I just need to express myself and release these ideas into the world.

My goal is simple: to show up every 15 days, to create this personal space. If I manage to share my thoughts consistently, then I’ve succeeded.

Of course, knowing that someone finds it helpful or inspiring makes me happy. But I don’t want external validation to steer my path anymore.

This need for validation didn’t start with my career. It’s something that has affected me since childhood: insecurities about myself and my appearance, amplified by a society that constantly pushes comparison and impossible standards.

Sadly, the only true teacher for overcoming these pressures is time.

Sometimes, I think we come into the world as a blank page, only to be filled with fears and insecurities... and life is about untangling that knot and realizing that we already had everything we needed.

Most of the time, the biggest obstacle between us and what we want is ourselves. I mean the fears and insecurities we learned along the way, the ones that now make us question our desires.

Subconsciously, I grew up with a rigid idea of beauty.

I remember the first time I tried to draw a self-portrait. I liked it, but I felt embarrassed to show it.

Why? Because I found myself in a strange dilemma:

If the drawing was "too beautiful," it wouldn’t really look like me, so it would be wrong. But if it resembled me too much, it would highlight all the "flaws" I believed I had, and those flaws would stay there forever, frozen on paper.

It felt like a lose-lose situation. Without realizing it, I pushed the experience away and forgot about it for years.

Fast-forward: after years of therapy and personal growth, two years ago, I took some drawing classes. For the first time, I drew portraits of other people. This was a turning point.
Because drawing portraits wasn’t just about technical skill, it was about learning to truly observe. Learning to notice details, to feel what shapes convey, and to build from the inside out.

What was I doing wrong before? I was trying to build my portrait from the outside. Let’s say I had to draw a nose, I would bring a random "pretty" nose and stick it there. Of course, that didn’t work.

Observation gave me the tools to find my own forms.

In the last few years, my life changed in ways I could never have imagined. I got married, moved to another country, bought our first house... and I also went through one of the most painful losses: my dad's passing.

All these changes, some joyful, some deeply painful, caused something inside me to erupt, like a volcano that had been silent for too long. Suddenly, feelings and thoughts that had been buried for years came rushing back to the surface.

And for the first time, I had to stop and truly observe them, a bit like when you draw and really look at what’s in front of you. I tried to understand my fears, my sadness, and my insecurities in their full context. Not trying to cover them with a "beautiful mask", but carving slowly through them, like a rough block of marble. Not to turn them into something perfect or pretty, but to recognize them as real parts of my story, parts that were already there and always will be.

Because our story, with all its light and dark corners, is what shapes who we are. Just like in drawing, light and shadow come together to create contrast, and it’s only through their combination that the image takes form.

I’m not saying everything is solved, or that the autopilot days are completely behind me. But little by little, I started to feel more awake, more present. And maybe that’s enough for now.

One day, without planning it too much, I opened my sketchbook, grabbed a photo of myself from my phone, and just started drawing.
It wasn’t a fully conscious decision. It just happened, like a small spark after a long process happening quietly inside me.

And as I drew, I noticed something different. The lines were simple, yes, but they captured something true, my essence. It wasn’t about creating a perfect image. It wasn’t about fitting into some standard of beauty. It was something else: a real, authentic reflection of myself.

And somehow, that made it beautiful.
Not "beautiful" in the conventional sense, but beautiful because it was honest.

It made me happy.

Today, if you look at my Instagram, you’ll see that my last three posts include illustrated versions of myself. Anyone might think, such a ego!

But ironically, it’s something I had never dared to do before.

I participated in the Starter Pack – No AI Challenge. And after all this reflection, I think it’s obvious why we don't even need to argue about generative AI.

Our illustrations are more than lines and techniques. They are windows into how we see the world, shaped by our personal histories. AI will never be able to replicate that. Our stories, our habits, joys, fears, and loves, are the lenses through which we interpret reality.

And that creates infinite, rich, diverse, and authentic worlds.

Thank you for reading.

I'd love to hear from you, and remember:

You can always explore past editions of ReSketching on Substack.