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Trigger Warning: This article discusses Postpartum Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PPTSD), Birth Trauma, and Medical Emergencies, which some readers may find distressing I share this story not just to process it, but to raise awareness. Birth trauma happens more often than we talk about. Complications in labour deserve more understanding, support, and open conversation. Storytelling enables us to break the silence, connect with others, and start the healing process, both individually and collectively. This is the day I died.   Not literally, but it marked the end of life I knew it. My body was no longer mine. My sense of self was shattered. In its place came a new reality: epilepsy , PPTSD (Postpartum Posttraumatic Stress Disorder), and postnatal depression became my daily companions. Image by Jan Canty via Unsplash How Memory Works in Trauma   Trauma alters how memory works. Studies show that when people experience a traumatic event, their memories become fragmented. Even witnesses recall events differently, shaped by stress and emotion.   In my case, I was barely conscious for much of what happened. My memory is a collection of fading images, sounds, and sensations. My husband was there to confirm what I couldn’t recall.   Even now, it feels like piecing together a dream, or a nightmare. The Lead-Up to Labour: Missed Signs   Pregnancy is considered full-term at 40 weeks. If labour hasn’t started naturally by 41–42 weeks, induction may be recommended to avoid complications like stillbirth or fetal distress..   At 40 weeks and 6 days, I was induced with a hormone gel ( prostaglandin ), but it didn’t work. They tried again at 41 weeks and 2 days.   By 41 weeks and 3 days, I had lost the mucus plug , was bleeding, and felt something was wrong. I went to the hospital and was monitored for hours.   The baby’s heartbeat was irregular.   A shift change happened. The new doctor discharged me without explanation. Exhausted, alone, and confused, I wanted to trust her. But something felt off.   At 41 weeks and 5 days, I was scheduled for induction. But at 10:00 a.m., I got a call: There were no beds. They’d call me tomorrow.   At noon, my water broke. I was prepared to wait at home until contractions started.   Then I saw more blood and green mucus - meconium. What is Meconium?   Meconium is a baby's first stool.. If it appears before birth, it signals fetal distress. If inhaled by the baby, it can cause serious breathing difficulties or infection.   I was alone. My husband was working in a place with no phone signal. I waited through contractions on my own. When he returned, we reached the hospital by 3 p.m.   There were still no beds.   Labour Turns Into a Crisis   I was placed in the emergency pregnancy department. My contractions were every minute and intense, but I was forced to wait.   I had to remain in bed with straps around my belly to monitor the baby’s heartbeat . I couldn’t move. This wasn’t what I had planned.   I was given Entonox too early, making me dizzy and nauseous for four hours.   During pregnancy, I had tested positive for Group B Strep (GBS) , a bacterial infection that can be fatal to newborns delivered vaginally if untreated.   I needed IV antibiotics before delivery. But everything was delayed.   By the time I was moved to a room, I had a fever. The doctors realised I was developing sepsis.   What is Sepsis?   Sepsis is a life-threatening immune overreaction to infection, causing organ failure. Pregnant women and newborns are particularly vulnerable, as sepsis can develop from untreated infections, prolonged labour, or complications like Group B Strep.   I had written and verbally requested a caesarean if things went wrong.   But no one was prepared. I wasn’t given pain relief, no epidural, no plan.   When they finally decided on a C-section, the doctors reviewed my records. The anaesthesiologist found an MRI from a year earlier showing lesions on my right temporal lobe. It had been ordered after I reported cognitive symptoms. The neurologist sent the results, but they never reached my GP.   I was burning with fever, in septic shock, unable to advocate for myself.   I faintly remember a nurse pressing firmly on my back, grounding me in that moment of chaos, pain, and fear, as I fought for my life and my baby’s.   Image by Nivedhita via Unsplash My body was shutting down. I lost consciousness.   Right before the epidural, I had my first visible seizure.   The alarms went off.   Twenty doctors rushed in.   My husband was pushed out of the room.   The doctors said, “Forget about the baby - we need to save the mother.” I don’t know how long I was unconscious. Protocols delayed the C-section, putting the baby at risk. After My Daughter Was Born   She was born by emergency C-section at 11:40 p.m.   I didn’t wake up until the early hours of the next morning.   When I opened my eyes, my husband was there. He asked if I wanted to see our daughter.   I assumed she was okay. I was too weak to keep my eyes open.   I couldn’t hold her. I couldn’t process what had happened. It felt like waking from a nightmare and being handed someone else’s baby.   Seizures became a part of my reality after birth. That’s another story for another day.   Amid the chaos, I will always remember the nurses. Their strength and presence during the whole week spent in the hospital in those darkest hours meant more than words can express.   Trying to Survive as a mother   For two months, I wasn’t allowed to hold my daughter unsupervised in case I had a seizure.   I couldn’t bathe her, take her for a walk, or even be alone in a room.   The disconnect was overwhelming.   I’d imagined maternity leave would mean walks in the park, museum visits, and fresh air.   Instead, I was stuck inside the house, isolated and overwhelmed.   PTSD After Birth: A Silent Epidemic   After surviving all of this, I wasn’t the same.   I later learned about PPTSD. It develops after childbirth, particularly in cases involving medical trauma, life-threatening situations, or feelings of helplessness.   PPTSD after childbirth affects 3–6% of women, but for those who experience complications like emergency C-sections, preterm birth, or excessive medical intervention, the rate is much higher.   For months, I felt numb, disconnected, and afraid. Author's own image   The Only Thing That Kept Me Going   When I finally held my daughter, she instinctively crawled toward my breast and began nursing.   That was the first moment I felt something real.   But this was the day I died as Christina, and a new person was born, one who had to accept a new way of life. While many describe birth as completing a cycle, it didn’t feel like an ending for me. Instead of closing a chapter, it opened something raw and unfinished… something painful I’m still learning to live with.     “There are certain events that can never be separated from the time in which they occurred. We are left trying to understand them, but they refuse to be fixed in the past. Instead, they live with us, inside of us, shaping the way we move through the world.”  Patrick McGrath This article has been sponsored by the Psychiatry Research Trust,  who are dedicated to supporting young scientists in their groundbreaking research efforts within the field of mental health. If you wish to support their work, please consider donating.

It’s reminded me that this journey is about love, not just logistics.

Introduction Life is an incredible journey, and for those of us on the autism spectrum, it can be a uniquely In this article, I want to share my journey, focusing on the challenges I've encountered and the transformative The Autism Revelation My journey toward self-discovery took a significant turn when I attended a psychology Being Myself My journey with ASD has been marked by challenges and personal growth. As I reflect on my journey with ASD, I've learned invaluable lessons that I believe can benefit others

research into relatable narratives, providing readers with a deeper understanding of diverse psychological journeys Tension, Time, and Release: Capaldi’s Parallel Journey with Music and Tourette’s As Capaldi’s TS symptoms persisted, they became entwined with his musical journey. In the documentary, "Lewis Capaldi: How I'm Feeling Now", he delves into his journey, intertwining his As we reflect on his journey and that of many others with tics, let us actively work towards a world

However, it is important to remember that whatever journey you are on, it should be the right fit for Whilst navigating this journey, I started to discover more about myself. relationships and learn a whole lot about oneself, and today, I am incredibly happy to have been on this journey

I have written this piece as a reflection of my journey through 15 years of ballet, for the occasion story of friendship I have waited until this moment to tell you that I haven’t been alone in my ballet journey My best friend and I began our journeys together as 5-year-olds, looking up to all the older ballerinas Where am I on my journey today, you may ask? I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been an integral part of my journey, especially

At no point in my own journey was I offered psychological therapy for my difficulties.

Walking on an empty street of London: the illuminated windows, the colours and the shadows are always different. Behind every window there is a story, a relationship, a bond: we can look at figures, perceive desires, secrets, but mostly silence. What would it be like to have access to this space of mysterious intimacy? Silent Figures — a series of images straddling real life and fiction — was originated from my need to visually express the darkness I was feeling inside, the deep solitude I felt within a relationship that I was in at that time. I started taking self-portraits, looking through my inner window, but then came the desire to investigate other people, how they experience the contradictions of the couple’s relationship: on the one hand, the desire to share and the need to bond; on the other, a sense of estrangement, a desire for escape. The title was decided keeping in mind Hockney’s way of representing individuals and the silence that can be perceived from his representations. The conceptual idea of the work was inspired firstly by Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse: Fragment, and then energized by the writing of Verhaeghe’s, a Belgian professor of clinical psychology and psychoanalysis. They suggest that the world outside, and the society with its rhythms and its temptations, act as a mirror to individuals, affecting their behaviour: identity is a balance of tensions, and individuals are torn between the urge to share with and the urge to distance themselves from the other. Hence, my curiosity to confront the subject of solitude and identity within a couple’s relationship. My aim was to develop a personal visual expression through scenes of everyday life set in a peculiar atmosphere, sometimes on the verge of strangeness. The silence is expressed by subjects being immobilised by overwhelming thoughts, fear, problems, and caught in the fleeting moments of daily life. The key words in this body of work are ‘loneliness’ and ‘alienation’. The couples never look at each other, there is no eye contact between them. This was my artistic choice to visualise this moment of solitude. Their ‘Home’ was the location for the shoot, where people feel relaxed and secure, the place where you’re not supposed to wear masks. I decided to work with authentic couples because I wanted my perception of reality to be grounded on a very genuine experience. Merging both my feelings and theirs, I created images which became the places for personal projection, where there are no theories nor solutions. There are just stories. Shot initially on film, pictures were then digitally combined and edited to make the final images, each with its own story within. It is worth pointing out how important the editing was in the process, in order to emphasise the colour palette and to give the pictures a different appeal, an element of surreality. Pictures were always taken in the evening, to achieve total darkness and to create a quiet mood, as many painters do. I like how the American Photgrapher, Crewdson, does this, evoking how darkness influences the human behaviour. The recruitment process was the most challenging part of the project. Creating trust was crucial in order to create a dynamic in which people who are not actors could be comfortably directed and staged, . As part of the commitment to the project, in one of the pictures I, the photographer, changed role — moving from just being an observer to also being observed (see my picture below). It was important to merge the photographer’s experience with that of the other couples involved: both parties are aware of being seen, and this leads the project from an unsatisfied voyeurism to the representation of a more intimate storytelling, not just recording a fact. In all pictures the two individuals are always opposed by visual elements that represent a psychological separation: a shadow, a line drawn by light, a physical barrier. There is always one of the two people, typically the woman, who is paralysed by her own thoughts, while the other is wrapped up in their state of unconsciousness. It could be argued that women play an incisive role in the meaning of the picture, although it is difficult to establish whether the woman plays a passive part or whether she is in a position of power in the relationship. My intention was to sublimate the ordinary and define my own narrative of the so-called ‘reality’. By proposing a disturbing mise-en-scene, the project describes the solitude within the couple, re-editing the concept of communication. Through working with real couples in their private environment, the series has a very personal approach, made visible by the explicit use of film lighting and directing poses of the subjects. Research and technical preparation are combined with improvisation, reaching unexpected images, simultaneously poetic and documentary. Silent Figures highlights much more than what remains imprinted in the camera; it presents a visual elaboration of the meaning of ‘identity’ in today’s society. NOTE FROM THE EDITORS: We are so pleased to have Francesco Catania guest writing for InSPIre the Mind! Francesco Catania is a photographer specialised in portraiture. Since the beginning of his photographic practice, the human element has been fundamental in his images. He is constantly interested in what concerns identity, relationships between individuals and individuals within society. His photography explores a visual elaboration of the questioning on the idea of identity in today’s society, creating a space in between fiction and reality. The project is exhibited in London and internationally. - Instagram: @francescocatania.photo - Website: www.francescocataniaphotographer.com

memoir about how poetry helped her recover from depression ‘Black Rainbow: How words healed me — my journey a journalist for The Times and has written books including Black Rainbow: How Words Healed Me — My Journey

Through this journey, I’ve learned the importance of seeking out stylists who specialise in and care

There have long been calls to reform or change the way we look and talk about education in the UK, but never has it been talked about so much since the Coronavirus pandemic. What would have been an already stressful period for those leading up to taking exams, was amplified by disrupted learning and uncertainty. Yet, what wavered rarely during this period was the high standards of academic achievement that many students were held to. As someone who completed their A-Level ‘exams’ this year, but has struggled with academic pressure since I was about twelve, I had sleepless nights for weeks over how I would be graded. I was halfway through Year 12 in sixth form when the UK went into its first lockdown. Slightly startled by the sudden plunge into home-learning, I managed to maintain my hard-working attitude. I didn’t realise it at the time, but lockdown would make me rethink my entire attitude towards the education system. Learning vs. The Education System Ever since I can remember, I have always been a “pleasure to have in class”, a common buzz-phrase amongst teachers at parent’s evenings and meetings. As I am writing this, it is the day before my A-Level results day, and I am still hoping for a place at university. Despite all the reflection I have had about academia, the education system, and the pressure placed on myself, I am still extremely anxious, knowing the results I receive will undeniably impact my mental health. I worked tirelessly throughout the pandemic, as if it were a normal school timetable, waking up at 8am, working between 9am to 3pm, maybe up until 1pm nearer the end. This ultimately left me feeling extremely burnt out. I remember having a conversation with a friend as summer started to near, saying “I love learning, but I hate the education system”. And it’s true. I read constantly, both fiction and non-fiction, watch documentaries, listen to podcasts etc. and this isn’t a ‘look at me and everything I do’ brag, but to show that learning truly is a pleasure of mine. However, constant examinations, and being seen as a grade more than I am seen as a person, has naturally taken its toll on me. So, as someone who loves to learn, I started to do some research on academic stress and the impact of seeking validation from it. The Impact of Stress Having panic attacks the night before exams and feeling so nervous I couldn’t sit still are vivid memories of mine, as they are for a lot of my peers too. Leading up to big examinations, such as GCSEs and A-Levels, many will say that stress can be a good thing, the kick we need to remain motivated. But I wanted to check this theory out for myself. A 2020 study looking at the impact of stress on students in secondary school and higher education found that academic-related stress can lead to the development of mental health issues, such as depression and anxiety. It also found that academic stress can result in substance use, disrupted sleep, and an increase in developing physical health problems later in life. But what I found most interesting, and alarming, is the following finding: “students with higher perceived stress are likely to have lower academic achievement”. All this pressure I have placed on myself to do well could have actually hindered me, yet academic stress is extremely normalised within education. It made me wonder what we would see if students’ mental health was prioritised over exam results. Exams, Exams, Exams Prior to the Coronavirus pandemic, both GCSE and A-Level students were assessed by end of year exams, with some subjects also incorporating coursework. Years of hard work and learning boiled down to a two-hour exam in an eerie school hall. The examination system and the process of how grades are awarded in the UK mean that a student could be performing at an A-grade level throughout their course but end up with a C-grade if the day of the exam simply didn’t go their way. There are many sides to the argument about exams. Some argue we should have exams, others believe we should scrap them altogether, and many have points of view in between, but it cannot be denied that exams are having a negative effect on students’ mental health. Between 2015 and 2018, the NSPCC reported that the number of referrals by schools in England seeking mental health treatment for students increased by more than a third. A survey conducted by London Metropolitan University suggests that this directly links to the exam season. This year, the buzz phrase around results day was ‘grade inflation’: the idea that students had ‘got it easy’ due to the cancellation of exams and the way that grades were awarded. As an A-Level student myself, I find this point of view insulting, because my learning was far from easy. I argue that gathering a student’s classwork, homework, and past classroom examinations results is a more honest grade than a final exam at the end of your course. Perhaps we should be wondering if it’s time to rethink the way we grade students. My Experience Researching the effects of academic stress resonated with me deeply. It was a part of my life so normalised and accepted, that sleepless nights were expected. A few years ago, when I was struggling with severe depression, I began to heavily base my self-worth on my grades and academic achievement. Feeling useless and fed up meant that I became reliant on praise through my teachers and school. I often buried myself in schoolwork, using it as a distraction from my real problems, and a way to avoid spending time with friends or family. So, when I would inevitably burn out due to academic stress and unresolved mental health problems, my mood would deteriorate. I was stuck in a vicious cycle of feeling depressed and unmotivated, putting pressure on myself to do well academically, and if I did not reach my self-imposed standards, I would sink deeper into a depressive episode. Thankfully, after eventually getting help for my depression, I was able to sever the ties between my mood and my grades. But that did not mean that I still didn’t feel enormous pressure to do well when it came to exams. I just have to remind myself that there is much more to life than grades, and that’s something we need to remind students all across the world too. USEFUL Resources: Student Minds: https://www.studentminds.org.uk/examstress.html Young Minds: https://www.youngminds.org.uk/young-person/blog/how-to-look-after-your-mental-health-during-revision-and-exams/ Childline: https://www.childline.org.uk/info-advice/school-college-and-work/school-college/ NHS: https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/children-and-young-adults/advice-for-parents/help-your-child-beat-exam-stress/

A Journey Through the Literature of Ukraine: From a pet penguin to a slice of cherry pie Eastern European has something to do with me being Polish, or perhaps there are literary gems that truly take you on a journey , and in this blog, I would like to invite you on a journey through the literature of Ukraine.