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No matter what, at least I have control. Or that’s what I used to think…When I was 14, I was admitted into hospital with an eating disorder; I left my home, my family, and my community all behind. Not knowing how long it would be until I was able to go home, I was scared and very alone.

Loneliness is sometimes sad and uncomfortable, and I think we like to pretend it isn’t happening when it is. We hide the feeling from people we know, like saying it out loud means something is wrong. I now reject this and would like to say: I need social connection, and I’m not afraid to say it anymore!

Overnight, at the age of nine, I went from an energetic, sociable child to housebound and isolated as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME/CFS) and other comorbidities shrunk my world to my bedroom. ME is a chronic, fluctuating disease that causes symptoms such as severe fatigue, post-exertional malaise, pain, sleep problems, and brain fog. It can leave people bed or housebound, and there is currently no cure. As the years passed, I tried every form of low‐energy activity that I cou

Ever heard of picture perfect? Clicking posts, attracting attention, wanting to feel validated. Validated. Something so many teenage girls, like me, crave the feeling of. Ever looked at yourself in the mirror and not seen your true potential? All you see is what others want of you. All you see is a dysmorphic image of who you seem to be, a monster to you, and a so-called ‘perfect girl’ to others. My name is Joana.

Every year during Men’s Health Week, we see more conversations around mental health, wellbeing, cancer awareness and the importance of speaking up - which of course, should absolutely be applauded. But there’s still a long way to go when it comes to helping men feel genuinely comfortable talking about their health. This is especially true when it comes to topics that feel personal, embarrassing or vulnerable - like testicular cancer.

A perfect column of khaki moves across the concrete. 300 pairs of legs marching in unison, with military precision. If not for the basketball hoops on either end of our parade square, we would be indistinguishable from professional soldiers. The occasional adolescent voice crack of the parade sergeant not withstanding, we were that good, or at least so we all believed. I am right in the centre, where everyone can see.

Let me start by dispelling the obvious– there is no such thing as a “feminazi”. There are feminists, and then there are feminists who are so unapologetic and uncompromising about their pursuit of feminism that they are derogatorily branded “feminazi” by those who are discomfited by their pursuit of a fair and equal world. It follows, therefore, that there can be no such thing as a “male feminazi”. In my opinion and experience, this is a response from men who have not been ta

With porn consumption linked to increased anxiety, depression and loneliness among men, I reveal my own porn use and what led me to stop. After being single for most of my 30’s and finding my self-esteem and body confidence at an all-time low, I decided to quit porn. I had always struggled with my use, which had morphed from an exploration of my sexuality into an unhealthy habit. As a British writer with an interest in culture and men's wellness, I share my personal journey.

My mother and I have been estranged for twenty years, with a few exceptions. I saw her at the hospital when my niece was born. We spoke on the phone once in 2013, and a few times in 2016. I stopped sending my annual “Merry Christmas” text message in 2019. When we first became estranged, it felt like I was the only person in the world who couldn’t maintain a relationship with my mom.

The term hysteria has earned a bad rap for good reasons. Originally coined as a diagnosis to refer to physical symptoms without an identifiable cause, it was soon reframed as a female malady caused by a “wandering uterus”. Although hysteria ultimately became a dismissive and misogynistic label used to pathologise women’s emotional experiences, the original diagnosis behind this popular term – now known as conversion disorder or functional neurological disorder - is far more

In all our homes, we all have dining tables to serve our everyday needs, but if you know South Asians, we often have more than the selected number of people who can sit at the table. So, what do we do? A Dastarkhān, or dastarkhwān is the name used to refer to a dining spread on the ground, on top of gorgeous tablecloths, laid out with many different dishes. Found across Asia, this concept allows for many people to sit comfortably; ideal for when the gathering is large and spa

In my career as a researcher, I have heard the phrases “BPD patients are a hassle” and “don’t touch borderline with a bargepole”. They’re throwaway remarks, but they often are said from the mouths of people who I would otherwise describe as intelligent and deeply empathetic. As a researcher at King’s with roots in community mental health projects, documentary filmmaking and getting almost to the end of a sudoku then realising I’ve made a mistake a long time ago, I’m used to

For some people, the days before a period bring mild irritability or low mood. For others, the emotional shift is so intense it can feel like becoming a different person entirely. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) is far more than the occasional premenstrual mood swing. It is a severe, cyclical mood disorder that can disrupt relationships, work, social life, and a person’s sense of self.

For me, OCD has always been about cycles, contradiction, and chaos. I’ve had OCD for as long as I can remember, but the first time anyone picked up on it properly, I was taken to the doctor for rashes on my hands around the age of eight. I remember trying to pass it off as something else. Dry skin, a reaction, anything but what it actually was. The doctor hardly even glanced at my hands before they said, quite plainly, that my cracked, oozing hands were likely from excessive

The last time I saw my grandfather, he didn't look like himself. Or maybe, he looked like a version of himself I hadn't been given enough time to get used to. That's the strange tax of distance. He lived in Bangalore, and I grew up in Texas, which meant I didn't watch his Parkinson's disease progress the way my cousins did: steadily, incrementally, in the daily way that allows you to adjust. I saw him in intervals. Years apart, sometimes.

I’ve grappled with an eating disorder for most of my life. A millennial, I grew up in a skinny-centric culture and watched shows like America’s Next Top Model, where aspiring models were berated for being anything more than size 0. And I berated myself for every pound I gained or failed to lose. In my 30s, I stand on the scale every day. On many days, I do it multiple times. Like other millennials, I grew up watching cycle after cycle of Tyra Banks chastising young women.

Of the nearly 50 years that I’ve been alive, I’ve been different people for varying lengths of time. I was a naturalist-in-waiting for a few years before I turned 10. I was a mostly reluctant student for around 20 years and a (failed) bassist for most of my youth. I’ve been a writer for nearly 25 years now. Since last year, I’ve been a fiancé. But, of all the different people I have been across my life, there is one I have never stopped being – a stammerer.

After years of suffering with my mental health, in particular depression and OCD, I finally thought I had got what I had always dreamt of. I had met someone I was about to marry, and I was pregnant with my first child. I had never thought I would even be in the position to imagine a future like this. Then I experienced prenatal depression, and my world collapsed.

Last year, I spent six months living and working in Japan. I worked at the World Expo, a role that allowed me to meet people from a wide range of backgrounds. It was an experience that stayed with me long after I left, not because it was extreme or overwhelming, but because it quietly changed how I understand belonging and mental health. Being in a place where I didn’t fully fit in made me more aware of how much our sense of well-being is shaped by whether we feel connected

Nightmares are a common part of our childhoods that usually subside as we reach adulthood. But if you’re like me, those nightmares may have taken ahold of you, well into your adult life. I have always been pulled towards anything spooky. As a young girl, I had my head stuck in books about ghosts. Now, as an adult and creative writer, I choose to write about distressing subjects like true crime and the paranormal.

Everyone has had one of those nights where they feel overwhelmingly Lonely. Lonely within your body, heart, and mind—all at once. It’s a feeling similar to living unexplainably separate from yourself. You hope it won’t revisit as often as it does. The Loneliness lingers, almost long enough to graduate into its mentor, Depression. Loneliness tries to impress its more overpowering sibling until, finally, Depression allows Loneliness to take shelter under its wing.

With every burst of laughter I drew from the crowd, the loneliness behind my makeup grew a little deeper. My name is Shopia Green. I am a circus clown, and the image of my red nose, abandoned on the dressing room table, is the most honest photograph of my life. It is not just a prop; it is a portal. On one side, the vibrant world of the spectacle, where I am the embodiment of joy. On the other, the silence that consumes me when the last spotlight on the ring fades.

Breastfeeding wasn’t widely discussed in my family and not many of my friends had children when I fell pregnant with my child in 2021. I’m not sure exactly where the passion for breastfeeding came from, but it was certainly there long before I got the obligatory ‘breast is best’ leaflet from the NHS midwife. I was blessed with a healthy, textbook pregnancy at the tail end of the Covid-19 restrictions in the UK.

A few years ago, I went through a traumatic event, the repercussions of which rippled out into what I hope to call the worst year of my life. And while that time is now behind me, and life has once again gone back to normal, there is one side effect that still casts a shadow over my life. It feels like I hear people talking about triggers all the time, about being aware and sensitive. But I rarely see anything that resembles an understanding of what I experience when I say I