But Sometimes …

I really don’t want to write this post, but I have to be honest with myself – and with you. I wanted my last post to be the end of the series I’ve entitled My Story – the sunny, beautiful, happily-ever-after. And honestly, I’ve been feeling that way – positive, grateful, content and so, so happy – for almost a year. But these past few days … . Continue reading


I suppose that everyone’s experience of post-natal depression is different. The same goes for the recovery process. I’ve tried to describe in other posts how the illness affected my mental state, and what recovering from post-natal depression was like for me. This post is about where I am now, how I feel now that it’s all behind me Continue reading

Birth Stories: Mia

For the birth of my third child, I went back to the same hospital in Athens where I’d given birth to my second. With the difference that now I knew the system and so I was prepared for what was coming. I knew I wouldn’t get a cosy, intimate, relaxed birth and I knew I would be separated from my newborn baby, so I adjusted my expectations accordingly. Continue reading

A Precious Gift

I was slowly finding my way out of the darkness that had been eating at me for years. I was no longer clinically depressed, I was starting to feel alive again, and best of all I had finally fallen in love with my second daughter. Then I got pregnant again. Continue reading


I was a good mum. I didn’t read parenting books or mummy blogs, but I know I was a good mum. My daughter was well-behaved and polite, and most of all we had fun together. However, after we moved to Greece, she gradually changed and became less easy to handle. I blamed my in-laws for spoiling her (which they do – but she spends about an hour a week in their company, so how much damage can they actually do?) I blamed other kids that she was copying (yes, that happens, but only to a certain extent). But the person who was really at fault was me. Continue reading

Angry Bird

The summer my middle daughter was one year old, I again went to my family’s beautiful village on the Greek island of Corfu for a few weeks’ holiday. The worst of my depression was over, but it hadn’t left me. I was still plagued by anxiety, unexplained rage towards those closest to me, and a deep misery that I couldn’t express. My memories from that summer are hazy because of the depression, but I do remember one thing clearly, perhaps because it was the first positive thing I did for myself in a long, long time. Continue reading

Coming Back to Life

Up until now, this blog has been a catalogue of disaster. If you’ve been with me from the beginning, thanks for sticking with it while I’ve been going on about how miserable and finally depressed I was. This is where it starts to get better, I promise! Continue reading

‘Battling’ Depression

Battling depression. I find this phrase interesting. It makes it sound like depression is something you can fight. Like if you just tried harder to be happy, to appreciate what you’ve got, that you’d get better. (Subtext: you weak, whiney, ungrateful person).

That’s bullshit. Continue reading

We Don’t Talk About Our Feelings

Maybe it’s because I’m British – we do have a bit of a rep – but in the midst of my depression, I was incapable of discussing it with anyone. I told three of my friends about it while I was still on maternity leave, but I always ended, brightly, with “but I’m fine now!” Knowing as I said it that I was so far from fine. Knowing I had a cupboard full of paracetamol and that I resented my baby and sometimes -often – wished she’d never been born. Continue reading