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

Living to Work

My husband and I always said we wouldn’t be like those people who work their fingers to the bone in a job they can’t stand for money. We thought a big car and expensive holidays wouldn’t be worth it (for us) if we were just living for the weekend. Continue reading