When I was writing my first memoir, I told my editor about having an autoimmune disorder

from ages 12 to 16 that caused my eyes to bulge out of my head so far that my eyelids

were literally unable to close.

I confided in her about the pain of my adolescence and unhelpfully I thought she suggested I write

about it to which I replied, yeah, no way in hell.

Because of all the ineligent things I wrote about myself in that book, publicly admitting

to drug use, alcoholism, deceit, sexual indiscretion, misanthropy, and pretending to be a hero,

the pain and alienation of my childhood was the one thing that made me think, if I tell

this I might die.

If I start to show what's under the tattoos, no one will again believe that I am cool.

But my editor pushed back saying, be brave Nadia, you can tell the truth.

And so, reluctantly, I did.

There was a point early in the life of House for All Sinners and Saints, the church I founded,

when I was frustrated and a little baffled by just how many socially awkward people were

showing up.

And at the same time, bloggers and church pundits who had never visited House for All began

to claim online based on the fact that the pastor was tattooed and pastors attract people

like themselves.

That House for All was obviously just a church for hipsters.

Which has never, ever been the case.

So one day, I started to think to myself, wait, why am I not attracting other cool people?

I mean, why aren't there people like me coming?

...