By that time, the experience of searching for answers had already shaped the way I saw the world. The years of uncertainty, frustration, and being dismissed by medical professionals made something very clear to me: many women experience a similar story. Not necessarily the same condition, but the same feeling of knowing that something in their body is not quite right, while struggling to find explanations that truly make sense.

In many ways, I had no choice but to become an expert in my own biology.

The condition itself has no cure. That meant that understanding my body—its limits, its rhythms, its energy—was not optional. If I wanted to build any kind of life for myself, I would have to learn how to work with my physiology.

For a long time, however, that life felt far away.

Because of my health struggles growing up, I did not graduate from high school. While the people around me were finishing school, leaving for university, traveling, and building their futures, I often felt as though my life had paused before it had even properly begun.

Watching others move forward while you feel stuck can slowly turn into something heavier. At some point, that weight became a kind of quiet depression.

Eventually, I realized that if my life was going to change, I would have to be the one to change it.

Almost on impulse, I decided to do something completely unexpected: I applied for a job at a casino as a croupier.

It was not the obvious path, but it became a turning point. The job forced me to step into a world that demanded confidence, precision, and resilience. I had to prove myself every single day—standing for long hours, learning quickly, managing pressure, and showing that I was capable of far more than the limitations I had begun to believe about myself.

Somewhere during those years, something shifted.

The curiosity about the human body that had started as a necessity began to grow into something larger. I became fascinated by how physiology works—how hormones, metabolism, sleep, stress, and nutrition interact to shape our energy and resilience.

And the deeper I went into that world, the more I realized how much of women’s health is still misunderstood, under researched, or oversimplified.

That realization eventually became the foundation for NAMMU.

The name itself comes from the ancient Sumerian goddess Nammu, associated with creation and the origin of life. The symbolism resonated deeply: a reminder that the female body has always been a source of life, creativity, and resilience.

NAMMU was created as a space where science, lifestyle, and modern living could come together—where the complexity of female biology could be explored with curiosity rather than confusion.

Alongside that vision, another project slowly began to take shape.

What started as research notes and personal exploration gradually evolved into a book: The Art of Female Health. I wanted to create something that translated complex scientific knowledge into a language that felt accessible, visual, and inspiring. Not just a manual or textbook, but a work that invites women to understand the rhythms of their own bodies.

Today, NAMMU continues to grow from the same question that started the journey years ago: how can we better understand the female body?

Because when women understand their biology—not as something mysterious or problematic, and not through the lens of a mens perspective, but from a woman’s intelligent system—everything begins to change.

NAMMU did not begin as a business idea.
It began as a search for answers.

For most of my life, something about my health never quite made sense. I struggled with energy in ways that were difficult to explain, and over the years I visited countless doctors trying to understand why. Again and again I was told that everything looked normal, that there was nothing to worry about, or that the symptoms were simply something I would have to live with.

It took twenty-five years before I finally received an answer: I had been living with an extremely rare blood disorder all along.