People have always been so fascinated by the stars , to the point where starts are tasked with determining our way of life or how the day will unfold. Image by Kateryna Hliznitsova via Unsplash+ I’m an Italian psychiatrist currently visiting the SPI Lab for 5 months, and during my psychiatric residency I have been fascinated by how people might be influenced by "paranormal beliefs" and which personality qualities are associated with these beliefs. The concept of the "horoscope" is frequently discussed in relation to its veracity. For example, in Italy, discussing zodiac signs or reading horoscopes is still highly popular, and one of the most famous ones is televised live at the end of the year! Wouldn't it be wonderful if my bad-temper was explained by my zodiac sign, or if my friend's latest love affair failed because Earth and Fire signs do not mix? As we have just started the new year, it is intriguing to discuss why people still believe that the stars impact our lives and personalities. Image by Allison Saeng via Unsplash+ What is Astrology? Astrology , in its broadest sense, is the search for meaning in the sky, and the origin of this word is from the Greek word astron (star) + logos (discourse). Throughout the course of history, many cultures, such as Indian, Chinese and Mayan, examined the movements and positions of stars in the sky, developing intricate systems for predicting terrestrial events based on celestial observations. Astrology in Western society is a type of divination that involves creating a horoscope based on a person's date of birth. It is based on the movements and relative locations of celestial bodies such as the Sun, Moon, and planets through the ecliptic plane (that is, the imaginary plane containing the Earth's orbit around the Sun). The zodiac signs of the Sun at an individual's birth date are commonly considered as the basis of the horoscope. Image by NASA via Unsplash Power of the stars or fear of the unknown? If astrological theories are not supported by any scientific thesis, then why are they still so popular and widespread in modern society? In a world where it is increasingly difficult to define oneself as an individual and to interact with one’s inner world, astrology provides a simplified way of understanding our feelings and the way we are. The study of zodiac signs also disengages us from those less positive character traits, which we justify by saying "they are typical of my sign". For example: “He is very irritable! But it’s normal, he is a Scorpio!” The exposure to astrology can also result in an increase in perceived self-control. In an unpredictable world, writing, or learning about our future provides us with a false sense of control. This could be linked to a desire for finding meaning during stressful times, as this has been identified as a predictor of paranormal and religious beliefs. In fact, in the midst of a crisis, people may resort to spiritual bypassing . This means employing spiritual concepts and rituals to deal with emotional issues and trauma rather than seeking professional help and experience the emotional pain of working through psychological issues. Image by Rodion Kutsaiev via Unsplash+ What does believing in horoscopes say about my personality? Believing in horoscopes may reveal more about you than your star sign does. Indeed, there is a link between belief in astrology and cognitive, personality, and psychological characteristics , such as thinking style, self-concept validation, and stress. Some examples include: High-stress levels appear to make people more likely to believe in astrology due to the Barnum effect. This is the belief that comments or forecasts are accurate and tailored specifically for one person, when they are actually quite general and may be applied to a large segment of the population. (If you're interested you can read tomorrow's piece by colleague Klaas Bahnsen, "Beyond the Zodiac".) People with a hyper-controlling trait of personality could receive a sense of comfort and greater stability by the predictions, making them more inclined to believe in astrology. People with narcissistic traits could be more drawn to horoscopes, since astrological predictions tend to be positively framed, and this reinforces their grandiose feelings. This study , for example, shows that the higher the level of narcissistic trait, the greater the belief in astrology. In general, people with more positive personality descriptions as per their sun signs are more likely to believe in astrology .  Furthermore, the more a person is described favourably by its signs, the more they believe in astrology.   Image by Natalia Blauth via Unsplash+ Prediction addiction Some people who experience increasing consultations with their astrologers could give more salience and experience mood changes with its use . Consulting the horoscope becomes one of the most important activities in their schedule, and they feel relieved afterward. If there is a gap between consultations or if the person tries to quit or stop, they may experience discomfort comparable to withdrawal symptoms, like a proper behavioural addiction . They may rely excessively on astrologers or horoscopes to make significant decisions, leading to increased anxiety about dealing with unforeseen situations on their own and finding it difficult to use critical thinking skills in problem-solving. Because these people are less likely to seek psychological help, the emotional difficulties underlying increased astrology use may worsen. Distressed people may go undetected and mistreated because they are preoccupied with finding a remedy through astrology. Image by Scott Lord via Unsplash Our power over the horoscope Personally, I find it fun to study the signs and their features, but the Virgo in me remains very skeptical about their actual impact on our lives! The impact of horoscopes on our lives is determined by how we perceive them, not by the horoscopes themselves. We can conclude that a modest and humorous use of the horoscope is not detrimental; seeking answers to life's difficulties in celestial bodies that are light years away it is. Living life in its uncertainty, no matter how frightening, makes it worthwhile. Enjoy the journey. As Lavoisier says, "nothing is created, nothing is destroyed, but everything is transformed." Thus even if stars have no direct impact on our lives, we are nothing more than dust from stars!

And just like that… the holiday season approaches. Another year has gone, with its highs and lows, its lessons, and all its triumphs. As I sit here, suitcase packed, ready to fly home for the holidays, I can’t help but joyously hum the nostalgic tune of “Driving Home for Christmas” by Chris Rea. Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash The lyrics, whilst simple, always resonate deeply with this time of year, with memories of past holiday celebrations, the embrace of familiar traditions, and the smell of cookies floating through the air. To tell you the truth, it’s been a tough year for me—and I think for many of us. Life has thrown its challenges and tested our resilience, but still, there’s something about the holiday season that feels like the first snow, blanketing sunny peaks after a cold and dark autumn. Like every year, there’s something magical about Christmas and the idea of a ‘fresh start’ as we roll into the new year.  It’s all about the sparkle of decorations lighting up cities and shop windows. It’s the crispness in the air where little kids start pretending they’re dragons with their warm breath, mingled with the scent of pine trees and spiced candles all around stores and cafes downtown. And it’s the sound of carollers singing age-old tunes with the nostalgia of childhood memories that still make us smile. Photo by Hannah Tu on Unpslash Think of the simple joys: holiday movie marathons, handwritten Christmas cards arriving in the mail, and the endless stream of festive songs. Though small, these traditions create a holiday season that feels bigger, more meaningful, and more special than all its little pieces put together. They create a sense of connection, joy, and even romance — not necessarily in the Hallmark sense, but in the way they inspire us to see the world through a softer, more hopeful lens. It also becomes the season of giving and donating. Some might argue that romanticising Christmas is a way of ignoring reality, but I disagree. In a world that often feels rushed, chaotic, and overwhelming, the holidays give us permission to slow down and celebrate what truly matters. By soaking up the holiday magic, we can feel like children again, enjoy time with loved ones, and find comfort in both old and new traditions. The idea of romanticising life originates from a philosophy rooted in the Romantic movement of the late 18th and early 19th centuries . Romanticism emphasised emotion, imagination, and the beauty in the everyday. In modern times, the practice of romanticising life — seeing ordinary moments as extraordinary — has gained popularity as a way to improve mental health. Studies have shown that adopting this mindset can help individuals shift focus away from life’s stresses and cultivate gratitude for small joys, boosting emotional well-being. When we romanticise something as simple as a walk in the park or decorating for the holidays, we allow ourselves to create positive experiences and memories, even amidst life’s challenges. When looking at it in more detail, recent research suggests that cultivating positive emotions and a mindful appreciation of small pleasures, such as a morning coffee or a sunset, can boost one’s mental health by increasing life satisfaction and reducing stress. Romanticising life involves reframing our daily activities to highlight their emotional or aesthetic value, creating a sense of purpose and joy even in the most mundane routines. This approach aligns with studies indicating that focusing on positive experiences contributes to life satisfaction, which can act as a protective factor for mental health, especially in adolescents and young adults. Equally, the practice of intentionally finding meaning or beauty can help counteract negative thought patterns, providing a sense of calm during stressful times. For example, research on the connection between life satisfaction and mental health shows that viewing life through a positive lens strengthens emotional resilience and can reduce feelings of depression and anxiety. Therefore, by embracing the art of romanticising daily life, we can foster a healthier outlook, making it easier to cope with challenges while appreciating the joys of the present moment. And romanticising the holiday season doesn’t mean pretending life is perfect. Rather, it’s about finding joy in the imperfections: the slightly burnt cookies that still taste amazing, the mismatched ornaments on the tree, and the last-minute gifts that were wrapped a little wonky but with love. It’s about cherishing the moments that make us smile and leaning into the nostalgia that makes this season so special. Photo by Kateryna Hliznitsova on Unsplash That’s why “ Driving Home for Christmas”  is such a timeless anthem for this season. It doesn’t try to be flashy or overly poetic, instead, it’s simple and heartfelt. “ It’s gonna take some time, but I’ll get there ,” Rea sings. So, whether you’re actually travelling or just catching up with friends and family over a call, the holidays remind us that coming home isn’t always about a physical place. Sometimes, it’s about being with the people who make your heart and brain feel at ease. Photo by Thandy Yung on Unsplash As we step into this holiday season, let’s hold onto that magic. Let’s enjoy the small things, embrace our traditions, and look forward to the new year. After all, Christmas isn’t just a date on the calendar; it’s a feeling. It reminds us that even after tough years, there’s beauty in simply coming home. So, dear reader, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! Thank you for your continuous support over the last few years, and we hope to see you again at the start of 2025!

A Perspective on the Criminalisation of Procreative Tourism in Italy ‘Italy criminalises citizens who go abroad to have children through surrogacy’ . When this news notification popped-up on my phone on a random day in October, I have to admit I was not particularly surprised. After all Italy has banned surrogacy since 2004  – I told myself - but as I delved into article, I started seething with indignation. In fact, to be able to prosecute couples conceiving through surrogacy abroad, the Italian government classed surrogacy as a universal crime .  If you are not familiar with this term, these are violations of human rights considered so severe and morally reprehensible to be subject to prosecution regardless of the jurisdiction of the country where they are committed - to give some context, genocide and war crimes fall under this category. Image created by the author on Canva As I kept reading, I found myself blown up by the words of Italian PM (Giorgia Meloni), who defined this law: ‘ a rule of common sense, against the exploitation of the female body and children ’. With Human Rights Day coming up this week, on the 10th of December, I could not help but reflecting on whether bans on surrogacy actually protect or further threaten human rights. As an Italian citizen – and most importantly as a woman – I cannot deny that I have a strong personal opinion on this matter. (If you did not figure it out by now, I am firmly against this ban as I believe decisions about women’s bodies and wombs should solely belong to women.) However, as a researcher in psychology I feel the need to discuss this topic objectively, or at least as objectively as possible.   What are surrogacy and procreative tourism and why has Italy banned them? Surrogacy   is a practice where a woman (surrogate mother) contractually agrees to conceive and carry a child for another couple (intended parents), and when this practice is conducted abroad it is referred to as procreative tourism (although better terms could be "reproductive travel" or "cross-border reproductive care"). This phenomenon is increasingly common among people from countries that prohibit surrogacy, with 250 Italian couples estimated to travel abroad to conceive their child every year.   The Italian government argues that conceiving a child in exchange for a monetary remuneration violates the human rights of surrogate mothers as well as children, or as the Italian PM puts it: ‘human life is priceless, not a commodity’ . To fully explain this argument, I need to make an important distinction between commercial and altruistic surrogacy ; essentially, the former entails a monetary remuneration beyond pregnancy-related expenses, while the latter does not. As such, the government deems commercial surrogacy - whether taking place nationally or abroad - unethical   as it entails trading a human life for money (it is worth noting that altruistic surrogacy is also banned in Italy, but I will not comment on this as it is outside the scope of this blog!). Image created by the author on Canva Despite my liberal views on this matter, I understand where their argument is coming from. It is inherently true that attaching a monetary incentive to surrogacy could put women at-risk of exploitation . Importantly, procreative tourism exacerbates this risk for women at socioeconomic disadvantage, particularly in low- and middle-income countries, perpetuating health and socioeconomic inequalities. In fact, women may resort to surrogacy agreements to financially support themselves or their families, which would interfere with their ability to make an autonomous choice. This would not only take away their free will, but it could also pose risks to their physical and mental health , through pregnancy- and birth-related complications as well as antenatal and postnatal psychopathology. Commercial surrogacy can also pose threats to children’s safety and wellbeing. Reassuringly, a review of the clinical literature shows no evidence suggesting that children born through surrogacy have poorer health outcomes   compared to children born after other types of assisted reproductive technology; however, the authors emphasise that children born from surrogate mothers at socioeconomic disadvantage may present with increased health risks, because of previous multiple pregnancies or greater exposure to environmental risk factors. Procreative tourism adds additional concerns about children’s welfare, due to the lack of an international legislation regulating this practice . In fact, laws in many countries fail to clearly establish the legal rights of children born through surrogacy, who may end up orphaned if they are not warranted legal parentage or citizenship. Similarly, these legislations do not clearly define the parental rights of surrogate mothers and intended parents, undermining the rights of the child (as well as those of surrogate mothers and intended parents), if conflicts over custody were to arise.   I agree these are all valid arguments, but I consider the view that bans will protect women and children’s rights as inherently naive and potentially dangerous.   Can banning surrogacy really protect women and children’s rights? The prospect of facing up to 2 years in jail and an up to €1 million fine (yes, that is what Italian citizens are subject to if they breach the ban) can certainly stop some people from conceiving through surrogacy abroad. However, it may also encourage them to turn to a black market.      As history has shown us, restrictions on surrogacy promote the development of unregulated markets, forcing women in hardship to enter illegal surrogacy agreements.  For example, a surrogacy black market has emerged in China (where surrogacy is illegal) producing an estimate of 10.000 children a year . As such, bans do not safeguard women, but instead they further endanger their rights as well as the ones of the children they bear.   Instead, a better option may be legalising and regulating commercial surrogacy at a national level,   to safeguard the rights of surrogate mothers and children nationally as well as reducing the need for procreative tourism. Unfortunately, I have the feeling the Italian government may not be open to this solution. Furthermore, this would not completely address the issue, as some couples may still turn to procreative tourism to achieve cheaper surrogacy agreements.   As such, international legislations are needed to protect the rights of women and children’s worldwide . These laws should regulate surrogacy agreements globally by enforcing fair standards and guidelines that preserve women, children and intended parents’ rights as well as preventing regulatory disparity among different countries. Image created by the author on Canva To conclude, while it is true that commercial surrogacy and procreative tourism may pose a threat to human rights, prohibition is an overly simplistic measure which may do more harm than good. This complex and nuanced matter requires a shared global effort to safeguard the rights of all the parties involved worldwide, and not draconian, unilateral laws that penalise both women and children.

Han Kang © Photo: Paik Dahuim. Courtesy of Natur & Kultur. Distance between You and Me Every heart holds a quiet ode to someone—a figure whose journey feels personal even in its distance, who leaves an imprint simply by sharing a moment in time and space. For me, that someone is Han Kang, the Nobel Prize Laureate of 2024 . As autumn bleeds into winter on a quiet day after the Nobel Prize announcement, I sit at my desk, reflecting on our fleeting yet resonant encounters. I am Jin-ho Kim, a writer and editor. In 2017, when I began my creative writing degree at Seoul Institute of the Arts, Han Kang was a professor within the department. Although she was slowly stepping down from the podium that year, leaving no opportunity for direct interaction in the creative seminars she ran, I recall glimpsing her on campus or catching sight of her teaching senior students through the narrow crack of a classroom door. That distant memory was unlike any classroom scene I knew. Unlike the typical arrangement where desks and chairs are tightly packed in neat rows around a central podium, the creative seminar had a different setup. It was like a gathering around a campfire—organic, intimate, alive. The lecturer and students formed a loose circle, defying academic formality, creating a space without hierarchy or hidden corners. At the centre, an invisible gravity pulled every gaze inward. I first encountered Han Kang's works during a creative seminar reading session in my first year of university. Despite her already considerable fame, my childish desire to discover ‘my own author’ had kept me from reading her works. Perhaps for that reason, her novella ‘ While a Snowflake Melts’ remains my lasting first impression of her, an image I’ll carry with me for a long time. This piece is a subjective introduction, woven around that singular book, not yet translated. This is my humble ode to Han Kang—a quiet celebration of her extraordinary achievement and a gentle nudge to myself to persist along my literary journey. Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash Snow in Korean - ‘눈(nun)’ Korea is geographically located in the mid-latitudes of the Northern Hemisphere, where the four seasons are relatively distinct. As such, it shares the seasonal sensibilities unique to East Asian countries, where winter and snow function as quintessential metaphors for the cycle of life. That imagery of snow frequently appears in the works of Han Kang. This likely stems from the unique sensibility of native Korean speakers toward the word ‘눈’ (nun). In Korean, ‘눈’ can mean both ‘eye’ or ‘gaze’ (目), and also refer to the phenomenon of ‘snow’ (雪). This linguistic duality creates a profound connection between observing snowflakes and exchanging gazes, forming the thematic foundation of 'While a Snowflake Melts' . The novel begins on a winter night when the protagonist, a middle-aged playwright, receives an unexpected visit from the spirit of a deceased acquaintance: her former supervisor at a magazine company she had worked for 17 years ago. Having lost contact over the years, she learned of his death only much later. Puzzled by the sudden visit of the spirit, she sits with him, discussing her struggles with writing at the time. From here, the protagonist’s predicament deepens both within and outside the play she is attempting to write. Originally conceived to conclude with ‘peace,’ the play begins to take an unexpected turn, leaving her unable to continue. She then learns of her former supervisor's hardships during their years apart—his struggles, illness, and lonely death. The protagonist grieves not only for his suffering and her delayed knowledge of his passing but also for her inability to truly understand his pain. She realises she remains an outsider to his struggles, disconnected from his experience. Her lament takes the form of creative paralysis, represented in her play by a single snowflake resting on the crown of a suffering figure—a snowflake that refuses to melt. This snowflake symbolises the lingering presence of the deceased, whose pain persists in the lives of those left behind, refusing to dissipate easily. Paradoxically, at the very point where her writing halts, the protagonist finds herself standing in the snow, once again wishing for ‘peace.’ In the final scene, she confronts the impossibility of writing, and in admitting her inability, she meets the gaze of the snowflake suspended in the void. At first glance, this snow-filled scene may seem puzzling. Yet, snow itself offers an apt metaphor for literature. Snow is often described as pure, but that is merely its outward appearance. To form a single snowflake, impure particles or dust-like nuclei of condensation are essential. Just as snow extends hexagonal branches infinitely, creating self-replicating fractals around the impurities of reality, trapping air layers within, and reflecting light in all directions to appear white, so too does literature centre itself on the dust-like fragments of human stories and pain, weaving connection and meaning out of imperfection and complexity. ‘Eye’ or ‘gaze’ also represents the act of seeing—the beginning and end of an event. To witness something with our eyes is to become entangled in it, and once entangled, we cannot look away. Snow, as a ‘crystal,’ symbolises an embrace of landscapes too vast for human arms to encompass. As a ‘gaze,’ it carves a path for emotional transmission while simultaneously evoking the ethics of the observer. Han Kang elevates this ‘gaze’ into an ethical dimension, presenting it to the reader as white snow. Through this lens, her novel moves beyond the first-person ‘I’ to touch the distant suffering of others, urging us to look beyond ourselves and witness pain with empathy and responsibility.   Han Kang © Photo: Lee Chunhee. Courtesy of Natur & Kultur. From 'I' to 'You', and to 'Us' A poet once said that writing should progress from ‘I’ to ‘you,’ and eventually to ‘us.’ Though I didn't fully understand these words back then, I believe I've found a faint clue in Han Kang's novels. The Nobel Prize in Literature has always been, for me, an opportunity to read the painstaking translations of those dedicated to rendering foreign languages into words I could understand. Through such readings, I’ve often felt the impossibility of translation yet struck by the universal feelings conveyed despite that impossibility. Now, it seems to be our turn, a chance to share Korean novels with the world. Like a single snowflake making its way to distant lands, the language of literature travels slowly. Yet it is this gradual journey, with its own pace and depth, that gives meaning to the act of sharing across languages. By exchanging what can never be fully translated, we connect on a larger stage and paradoxically find freedom from the prison of our native tongue. I believe that the literary achievements realised in the language of one era secure the depth and breadth of language for everyone living in that era. Surely, Han Kang’s novels contain struggles that might be personal or known only to her. Yet the achievements borne of those struggles belong to everyone who lives alongside her. I hope that the pain she writes about in her novels falls like a peaceful snowflake, even in faraway lands inhabited by those most removed from that pain. As we live under the weight of war today, more than ever, we are in a time when that peaceful snowflake is desperately needed. I write this on a Winter day when not a single snowflake has fallen. Congratulations to Han Kang on the Nobel Prize Award. And thank you. We now live within your novels.

The worldwide impact of Korean culture became particularly prominent with Parasite, the 2020 Academy Award-winning film  that earned praise for its satirical exploration of social class in Korea. More recently, on the 10th of October 2024, Korean author Han Kang achieved a historic milestone as the first Korean woman to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. This achievement was especially symbolic, as it came just one day after Hangul Day  (9th of October) — a national celebration in Korea commemorating the creation of the Korean alphabet, Hangul.   Han Kang. Ill. Niklas Elmehed © Nobel Prize Outreach My name is Hami, a researcher trained in an interdisciplinary field encompassing psychology, sociology, bioinformatics and molecular psychiatry. In my research, I explore the complex interplay between genetic and environmental factors in development of psychiatric disorders, and particularly how adverse childhood experiences (ACEs)  contribute to these conditions. ACEs refer to potentially traumatic events that children may be exposed to or experience during their development; such experiences can affect our physical responses, mental health, or even genetic factors. Trauma, in one form or another, is something we all encounter at various points in our lives, either directly or indirectly. From my research perspective, I find that Han Kang’s novels capture the essence of human emotions and behaviors shaped by trauma -especially historical trauma- with exceptional nuance. While some may not have been familiar with Han Kang before her recent recognition, her literary journey spans decades. Han Kang did not suddenly burst onto the scene; she made a debut as a poet in 1993 and has since published numerous works. Notably, her novel The Vegetarian  won the Man Booker International Prize  for Fiction in 2016. In 2024, she achieved another historic milestone, winning the Nobel Prize in Literature  for her novel Human Acts , praised "for her intense poetic prose that confronts historical traumas and exposes the fragility of human life." Image by the author From Personal Roots to Universal Reach – The Global Resonance of Han Kang’s Novels Let me briefly walk you through her life and work. Born into a literary family, Han Kang grew up with the influence of her father, a well-known novelist. Alongside her writing, she has a deep appreciation for art and music which often finds its way into her novels—particularly in Your Cold Hands (2002). Many of her works explore themes of human struggles, historical traumas, and the fragile balance between body and soul. For instance, her novel Human Acts (2014) is based on the Gwangju Uprising of May 1980, a pro-democracy movement in Korea that was brutally suppressed by the military. The novel recounts this historical trauma through six interconnected voices, each offering a unique perspective on the impact of violence. Her most recent novel, We Do Not Part (2025) delves into another event in Korean history: the Jeju Uprising of 1948–1949. Through the lens of ordinary people affected by the conflict, Han Kang once again delivers a poignant exploration of how historical tragedies shape personal lives and collective memory. Han Kang’s novels, deeply rooted in Korea’s painful history, resonate globally by turning the deeply personal root into universal experiences. As the Parasite director Bong Joon-Ho said in his Academy Award acceptance speech, quoting Martin Scorsese , ‘The most personal is the most creative,’  which later has been adapted to ‘The most Korean is the most global,’ capturing how deeply personal and culturally specific narratives like Han Kang’s can have universal appeal. Through evocative narratives, her novels explore the fragility and resilience of human experiences, showing how historical trauma shapes emotions and mental states while connecting readers through shared, universal reflections. Historical Trauma in Han Kang’s Work Historical trauma   is a type of trauma that refers to collective traumatic experiences that occur over time and affect multiple generations. This “soul wound” can influence people even if they were not directly involved in the events . According to Allan Young , a medical anthropologist, psychological trauma relies on two levels of narrative: an internal logic and memory . The internal logic  establishes a cause-effect relationship between the past event and the present symptoms, while the memory  is a constructed representation of the traumatic event. Historical trauma bridges past events with present realities , shaped by layers of narratives, socially endorsed memories, and logical connections between history and present.   These narratives highlight how the echoes of collective suffering continue to shape lives across generations. As Human Acts is based on the May 1980 Gwangju Democratic Uprising, one might expect the novel to focus on a political commentary or an expression of hatred toward the military regime. Instead, Han Kang explores a more profound and universal theme: the fear humans experience because of the actions of other humans. Han Kang herself was 12 years old when she first saw photographs taken by foreign journalists during the Gwangju Uprising, and the fear she felt at the time stayed with her. In the novel, she introduces six characters — Dong-ho, Jeong-dae, Jeong-mi, Seon-ju, Eun-sook, and Jin-su   — to portray the wounded souls affected by the human acts. Through their stories, Han Kang captures the impact of historical trauma, offering readers a deep exploration of its emotional and psychological toll. In one passage, a character reflects on the lingering effects of the uprising: “Burdened by nightmares and insomnia, numbed by painkillers and sleeping pills, we were no longer young … The interrogation room of that summer was knitted into our muscle memory, lodged inside our bodies.” This quote comes from a scene where Jin-su, a university student during the uprising, meet with another student leader after their release from prison. The inhumane acts they witnessed and endured are deeply embedded in their bodies and souls, leaving scars that refuse to fade.   Han Kang’s Human Acts  illuminates the impact of historical trauma by weaving together stories of Gwangju Uprising.  Her deeply empathetic narratives invite readers to understand and experience to heal their trauma from the past. Modern approaches emphasize respecting personal coping styles and avoiding a one-size-fits-all approach to trauma recovery.  Han Kang chose to share traumatic histories as a method of helping us heal from the past. Her novel portrays trauma and traumatic responses as normal reactions that can help people confront their traumatic experiences.

Three weeks ago, I published a personal article on my difficulties with grief following the death of my parents, both in their 90s, one year ago. I will not repeat the whole story here, as the article is available online. Instead, in this Inspire the Mind piece, I want to reflect on what has happened since the publication in terms of the responses from the readers.   As we are in National Grief Awareness Week , an event that takes place annually to raise awareness of grief and loss and to help people who are grieving, I thought it was important to bring to life the stories shared with me in response to my article.   For those who have not read it, in the article I talk about my difficult childhood and youth, with my parents who were often irritable and unhappy both with each other with me and my sister. I explain how I coped through physical and emotional distance mixed with hyperachievement, at school first, then at work. Finally, I describe how, in the last 5 years, I grew closer to them again, mostly thanks to my psychotherapy but also because they became more loving and lovable through their frailty and illnesses.   In the hours before its publication, I regretted ever writing it – or writing it for the public. Here I am, a psychiatrist and an academic, exposing my own raw emotions triggered by the first anniversary of my parents’ death. What will my colleagues and friends think? How will the readers, used to my educational writings on evidence-based mental health, react to a personal piece?   Then, the responses began to arrive, and they were amazing, surprising, warm, and very human. Many people – especially, but not only, those who know me personally – replied with their thoughts, emotions, and memories. Some did it as public social media comments, some within chats with me and other friends or colleagues, some wrote to me privately in emails and messages. One thing these people all had in common was the openness to talk about their grief: their existing grief, the memories of their grief, or the fear of their grief to come. Their testimonies are summarised here, unattributed, as I weave together common threads.   I knew that the topic was emotional when my wife called me, tearful, after reading the first draft. But, of course, she is directly affected as she loved my parents and has been very saddened by both her loss and my grief.   What I did not expect was that many people who wrote to me also said that they perceived my pain and felt touched, were teary, or cried.   Moreover, in their responses I noticed poignant words and unfinished sentences that hinted at something else: at their experiences and their thoughts beyond my story. In fact, these words and sentences expanded my story and projected it in other directions.   Many simply recognised themselves in one or more elements of my story: the turbulent relationship between parents; the recent understanding and reframing of their parents’ problematic behaviour; physical distance as coping mechanism; high standards and impostor syndromes originating in family dynamics; the importance of understanding where we are coming from.   Those who still have their parents wrote to me about their concern that they will experience complicated grief, or their preparation to avoid it. A close friend of mine wrote to me that unfortunately, and differently from me, his relationship with the ageing mother is not improving as she is becoming frailer. Another friend instead reminded me that good parental relationships can exist, and told me that my piece resonated with him because he has always had a loving relationship with his parents. Some suggested interesting societal or family factors in my story that I had not thought about myself. They expanded my story and projected it in other directions.     In my article I talk about my father being separated from his parents as a child when Naples was occupied by the Germans, and a colleague reminded me of transgenerational trauma: how perhaps my dad’s pain following his parental separation, the bombardments, and the hunger, trickled down to me through his emotional difficulties.   Another colleague pointed out that high achievement in the whole family is also part of the problem, both a consequence and a perpetuating factor. And my parents – as my colleague’s – were high achievers and were pushed academically by their parents. My father, son of a tailor and grandson of a tailor, became a doctor, then a psychiatrist then a professor and chief of hospitals; my mother, daughter of a bar owner in a fishermen’s port in Procida, was the first woman from her island to become a medical doctor, and then a psychiatrist.   And then of course there were those who talked about their own experience of being parents – something I did not touch upon in my article, as I do not have kids. Two very good friends independently expressed the same concept: you try to do your best as a parent, but you only know if you have succeeded when it is potentially too late. I know that my parents have tried to be the best parents that they could be.   Another colleague, interestingly, merged the narratives of being both a parent and a child at the same time, as he shared his conflicting emotions for having had kids in London while his (and his wife’s) parents are getting older in a faraway country.   And some reflected on my article in the context of their medical profession. A friend who is a geriatrician told me that I made her think about her patients’ children and at what they might be experiencing as their ageing parents are unwell and approaching death.   As I write this, I realize how truly brave these people are, ready to share their inner worlds with me, and I am grateful to them for helping me understand more my own story. I hope that writing to me has helped them, like writing my article has helped me.   And, above all, I hope that the many of us writing about grief can make all the many silent and grieving people out there feel a little less lonely.

Whilst most children grew up watching CBBC or Disney Channel on the TV, my dinners were often spent immersed in shows like Criminal Minds and NCIS. Not exactly the most child-friendly shows, but dinner time was mum’s time, as my dad used to work away for long periods. So this was not to be messed with. Exposure to crime-solving produced a fascination that has since shaped my interests. It eventually influenced even my career path, choosing to study Psychology at University. I’m Suvi, a psychology student, currently doing my placement year as a research assistant at the Stress, Psychiatry and Immunity Lab at King’s College London. Even now, everything I watch and read still revolves around the themes of crime and mystery. For those unfamiliar with Criminal Minds , it follows the work of the Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) in the FBI, profiling and interviewing people, to catch the offender. Each episode starts with the team building a profile, based on details of the crime scene and victimology, the study of crime victims, which can be used to apprehend the offender. Whilst this formula does sound repetitive, the exploration of human behaviour and profiling is captivating and, although dramatized, provides an insight into the field of forensic psychology. Admittedly, I chose to study GCSE Psychology because I believed those years would give me better insight into what the FBI BAU did relating to psychology. I now know;  that studying GCSE Psychology does not mean you can go profile people and predict things based on them. What does the BAU do? The BAU works has been active for 39 years, and works with investigative analysis and threat assessment, with methods rooted in Forensic, Behavioural, & Investigative Psychology. Forensic Psychology applies psychological concepts to the legal system. A Forensic Psychologist would carry out assessments on the offender to be used in trials. On the other hand, Investigative Psychology applies psychology to the criminal investigative process. It involves offender profiling, an investigative technique where the crime and crime scene are analysed to work out characteristics relating to the offender. This field focuses on attempting to understand criminal behaviour to aid law enforcement. In this article, I’ll discuss two well-known criminal cases, that show how forensic and investigative psychology developed to become what it is now. Jack the Ripper If I mentioned Whitechapel and serial killer, could you guess who I’m talking about? Jack the Ripper  was a serial killer that operated during the late 1800’s, in the Whitechapel region of London. He targeted women who worked or lived in Whitechapel and those who generally worked as prostitutes. The police never really had a solid suspect, because the location of these killings made it incredibly hard to catch the killer. At the time, Whitechapel was an impoverished area, with overcrowding and many slums. It was rife with disease, crime, and poverty, to the point not even the police wanted to go there. There were no consistent sightings of the man seen with these women before their deaths, and any evidence found never pointed to the killer’s identity. There is debate on whether the main 5 victims of the Ripper, were even killed by one man. The modus operandi (MO) is what led police to believe these 5 women were killed by the Ripper. Each victim was severely mutilated and had their internal organs removed. As the number of victims increased, the intensity of mutilation increased. Despite it being unsolved, this case is one of the earliest uses of profiling in a criminal case. The Metropolitan Police reached out  for the consultation of police surgeon, Thomas Bond. Bond was asked to give his opinion on the extent of the killer’s knowledge and skill regarding surgery. At this time, many believed the Ripper had to have some sort of anatomical knowledge of either the human body as a doctor or of an animal as a butcher. But Bond believed  that the killer did not possess any surgical or anatomical knowledge of the human body, nor the technical knowledge a butcher would have. He believed that the killer suffered from attacks of homicidal and erotic mania, based on the severe mutilations. Homicidal mania is an uncontrollable urge to harm or kill others. Erotic mania is an overwhelming obsession with love or sex. Both involve uncontrollable thoughts or behaviours that require help are severe mental health disorders that may require psychiatric intervention. Bond believed that the killer was possibly an eccentric man with an unstable income. To those close to him he may have not seemed “right in the mind”. Here, Bond used his knowledge, and evidence from the autopsies, to predict what kind of person the killer may have been, to guide the Met. But due to limitations at the time – such as the overwhelming number of leads, and the absence of DNA analysis – the Ripper was not caught. The Railway Rapists 100 years later, still in the UK, we’ll look at John Duffy and David Mulcahy , dubbed ‘The Railway Rapists’. This duo was active from 1982-86. Childhood friends, together they raped countless women and killed three. Their initial attack was the rape of a woman in 1982, taking place nearby Hampstead Heath railway station. This was followed by several more attacks, around multiple railway stations. Their MO consisted of the use of a knife to threaten their victims, tying their victims’ hands with string, and operating nearby railway stations. 1985, was when their attacks escalated from rape to murder with the killing of 19-year-old Alison Day. She was raped, strangled and thrown into the River Lea, with cobbles placed in her jacket to let her body sink.   During the police investigation, David Canter, a psychologist, was called in. Canter used the details of the crime to build a profile, to narrow the suspect list. The profile was built using the killer’s patterns, habits, and victimology. Specifically, Canter believed that the killer would be married but childless, have a history of domestic violence, and possibly live around Kilburn.   Duffy was an ex-railway employee and had previously been arrested for other violent offences. Once the Police arrested Duffy and Mulcahy, after Duffy was caught following a woman in a park. , they found of theOf the 17 observations Canter provided, Duffy met 13, proving the profile to be quite accurate. After his work on the ‘Railway Rapists’, Canter went on to develop investigative psychology. This is a field of psychology thatfield draws from psychological concepts, geography, and other social sciences. Unlike forensic psychology, cases worked on will contain unknown suspects, requiring information to be put together to reveal their identity.  Forensic Psychology has evolved to produce a new field that is crucial to criminal investigations. Investigative psychology enhances our ability to link crimes, identify or narrow down suspects, and generate relevant leads. Profiling provides deeper insights into the offender’s characteristics, as the crime can often reveal a lot about the offender: we simply need to know what to look for.   I’ve learnt that understanding these patterns and behaviours can help law enforcement better understand criminals, and improve the effectiveness of criminal investigations. This work provides the police with an effective technique, whereby the evidence doesn’t provide a clear answer.   Hopefully, by the end of this, I’ve encouraged you to give Criminal Minds a watch, and you now understand how much Forensic Psychology has truly progressed in the last 200 years.

The SHAPER dissemination event held at the Science Gallery London on 19th November 2024. On Tuesday 19th November, the SHAPER research team and programme delivery partners came together to disseminate their research findings to an audience of key stakeholders. SHAPER (Scaling-up health arts programmes: implementation and effectiveness research) is a £2.6 million research programme funded by Wellcome, led by Professor Carmine Pariante and Professor Daisy Fancourt, that aimed to assess the effectiveness and implementation of 3 arts-in-health interventions: Melodies for Mums  for Postnatal Depression, Dance for Parkinson’s (PD-ballet ® ), and Stroke Odysseys and embed them in clinical pathways thereby strengthening the case for NHS Integrated Care Systems (ICSs) to recommend and fund such interventions in the long-term.   Arts in health, or arts for health, is now commonly known as Creative Health. Creative health is an innovative approach to enhancing mental and physical well-being through the power of the arts. By integrating creative activities into healthcare and community settings, it offers a holistic way to support individuals' health and resilience. We were delighted to be joined by Dr. Simon Opher MP who has pioneered and championed creative health in Stroud over the last 30 years. Simon is the new chair of the All-party Parliamentary Group for Creative Health and told us about his experience in this field, having introduced artists into his surgery and advocated for green prescribing, which led to him founding Artlift  in 2006, a programme that offers arts-on-prescription for people with mental health issues or chronic pain.   The event was introduced by Professor Carmine Pariante and Ms. Beatrice Pembroke (Executive Director, Culture) followed by Professor Ioannis Bakolis who introduced the concept of Implelmentation Science and explained its key role in the SHAPER study.   Our first case study- Stroke Odysseys (SO), was summarized by researchers Jean Harrington and Caroline Ellis-Hill, after we had seen a moving and uplifting film by Chris Lawrence, about the SO programme. Our research focused on assessing the impact of the programme on the wellbeing of the participants - why it was life enhancing and why many of the participants became ambassadors of the programme. Jean focused on how the programme enhanced social and emotional well-being and increased the confidence and self-esteem of the participants. She explained the importance of kinship and performance – how participants placed trust in each other and worked towards a performance; the latter being key in giving a sense of ‘triumph over adversity’. Caroline explained the powerful impact of the ‘ambassadors programme’ – i.e. how ambassadors transform from rehabilitation service users to rehabilitation service providers. I think we're very much like a family now. ….. We did the opera together, which was the most exciting thing in the world, because it wasn't just us. It was the choir from a hospital of nurses, and real-life proper opera singers at a real-life proper op .. It was very, very exciting and part of the opera was about a bit of my story, which was the most emotional thing ever - Fiona Lorna Greenwood then introduced and showed their film about Breathe Arts Health Research  and their Melodies for Mums  programme (M4M). M4M is a 10-week singing programme for mums with post-natal depression- the team assessed, through a randomized controlled clinical trial (RCT), the effectiveness of the programme in reducing the symptoms of depression. Dr Rebecca Bind presented the results of this RCT conducted with 199 participants. We saw how M4M is effective at reducing symptoms of postnatal depression and anxiety- both via online and in-person delivery and how the benefits are long-lasting (8 months after the last session). She described how mothers are more attuned to their infants in their interactions, have a lower stress response, and are more biologically in sync with their babies compared to the mothers who did not recieve the intervention. She also presented some economic analysis data showing that M4M is a good investment for the NHS/local authorities healthcare commissioners, and how the mothers who took part found the intervention to be better than already-existing community activities.   Dr Alex Burton (UCL) then spoke about the qualitative implementation research. Alex and the team had conducted semi-structured interviews with M4M participants and professional stakeholders in a bid to understand the key active “ingredients” of the melodies for mums (M4M) singing programme that affected its perceived acceptability, feasibility and appropriateness. She concluded that ‘people ingredients’ (e.g. Skills/ values of music leads or it being a shared mother & baby activity) and ‘project ingredients’ (e.g. group singing & diversity of songs) are key to the implementation success, and how the findings could help with the design and adaptation of future creative mental health programmes.   “It has been transformative to everything….we were in this bubble of motherhood, the negative side, a lot of times I was living in a parallel world, you know, its normal to be up at 3am when the rest of the world is asleep... And I felt I had the songs, a bit of company. And I knew I will be going out (to M4M) on Tuesday. It might be raining, we will get there. Sometimes I will probably be in my pyjamas, clothes I hadn’t fully got changed in. But I knew I had to go. And I knew, because we started in winter, I knew that after the 10 weeks, Spring was coming, it was going to be a different season. And we would have moved on to a different place” - Anonymous The third and final case study was the English National Ballet’s PD-ballet® programme. The team investigated how ballet, as a creative health intervention, could improve non-motor symptoms of Parkinson’s. Fleur Derbyshire-Fox gave the background to the programme and introduced their wonderful film about delivery and research.   Aleksandra Podlewska outlined the clinical trial data that demonstrated significant improvements in non-motor symptoms of Parkinson’s, including but not limited to cognition, mood, sleep and pain and autonomic features as measured by MDS-NMS (non-motor rating scale for Parkinson’s). She also described how PD-ballet® is an appropriate and safe intervention that can be delivered across all motor stages of Parkinson’s. Dr Julie Williams then presented the implementation science findings that explored why people enjoyed taking part and strategies on how PD-Ballet can be implemented successfully in the future. Like the M4M programme, she explained that shared group activity, shared lived experience, staff support and the skill of the programme delivery team we key elements and that PD-ballet® is an acceptable, feasible and appropriate creative health programme. From the minute I got into the dance studio, the atmosphere, the fact there was live music, the way that the teachers and the volunteers helped us made the whole experience a fantastic one… Meeting other people with Parkinson’s, and developing a relationship with them, I think that was the most powerful aspect of the whole experience. - Anonymous Before the final panel discussion, Professor Daisy Fancourt summarised the state-of-the-art in Creative Health and the importance placed upon it by the World Health Organisation (WHO). She then introduced the panel of Ellen Rule (Deputy CEO / Director of Strategy and Transformation at NHS Gloucestershire ICB), Paul Gilluley (Chief Medical Officer for NHS Northeast London), Helen Chatterjee (Professor of Human and Ecological Health at University College London), Raj Mitra (GP, Lambeth Walk Group Practice) and SHAPER lead, Carmine Pariante. The discussion focused on the ’what next’ for the SHAPR programme and creative health in general. They discussed the barriers and facilitators to integration into mainstream healthcare. They urged commissioners to be bold and invest in such programmes, and explored strategies for successful and sustainable future implementation and scale-up to reach larger numbers of people across NHS. There seemed to be a consensus that the arts are still considered ‘nice to have’ rather than an essential tool in the armoury for prevention embedded within our health service. The ‘take home’ message was that creative health impacts at physiological, psychological and behavioural levels and should be considered as an important adjunct to conventional medicine.

Maggie watched the hustle and bustle move around her with ease. There was no quickening of her breathing or heart rate, and her chest hadn't tightened at all. Instead, she felt a rush of pride spread through her given just how well she was doing. Just the idea of being outside and around other people would have made her teenage self have an anxiety attack, and today she'd gone outside on her own free will - and for fun, no less. Photo by Radwan Menzer So far that day, Maggie had met her friends at the theme park entrance and had waited in the lines to go on numerous rides. Now, her friends had all rushed off to go and grab some food while she found somewhere to sit and eat her packed lunch. It might seem silly to some, bringing your own food to a place like this with so many restaurants, but no one sold the peanut butter and banana sandwiches that she could practically live on, if she didn't have to consider the other food groups.   After taking a bite, Maggie took a moment to reflect on her surroundings. Not only was she sat there, unashamedly eating her favourite - albeit strange - sandwich, which had led her to getting laughed at back when she was at school, but she was outside doing it. It might not seem like much, but to Maggie it felt like climbing mount Everest.   As Maggie chewed through the sweetness of the sandwich, she thought back to when she was thirteen, and how she struggled to even leave her house, let alone sit and eat her lunch in public like this. For years she had fought silently with what she didn't even realise at the time were anxiety attacks. She had felt anxious as she got ready for school and after every social interaction, sure that she had said something wrong and that everyone secretly hated her. Just thinking back on that time made the familiar twinge of fear spark in her chest, and Maggie had to spend a few minutes box breathing, slowly in and out.   That was a long time ago, Maggie reminded herself, as the fear eventually gave way to a feeling of calmness. But despite this, a sudden wave of sadness crashed over her, as she remembered how often she had felt isolated and down. Back then, she hadn't met her friends yet, and she hadn't confided in anyone about her feelings. But most importantly, Maggie reflected, she hadn't even admitted to herself that she was struggling. The problem with feeling a certain way so often is that it becomes normal. And the longer it feels 'normal,' the more you can convince yourself that everything is okay, that you can cope, and that there is nothing wrong with you.   But of course, Maggie realised now, with the gift of hindsight, that there was something wrong - and she should have sought help to get better much sooner, if only she had realised that just because it was her normal, didn’t mean it was right, she didn’t need to keep living that way forever.   Unfortunately, Maggie only realised this after years of feeling this way; long after she left school, and not until a she had a routine check-up at the GP, where she made a joke about her feelings, only for her doctor to counter that she should think about getting some help- and that it doesn't need to be her 'normal.'   This was life-changing for her; that one comment led to Maggie booking another appointment with a mental health nurse which led to her getting diagnosed with anxiety and agoraphobia. She had finally realise that she had been experiencing anxiety attacks. From there, she worked really hard on herself - she started seeing a counsellor regularly, and took medication, that after a period of time, really helped lessen the anxiety she felt. And with the support of this mixture of medication and her counsellor helping her work out coping mechanisms, Maggie started to leave the house again, and over time, the anxiety she felt from being outside lessened more and more. She met her friends, and while she still did get anxious, she now knew ways to cope with it, instead of letting it consume her. She got better.   She just wished…   ‘Hey mum, can we make a wish at the well, now?’   Maggie’s train of thought was disrupted by the sound of a child’s voice as he walked past her, pulling his mum slightly behind him. The mum laughed, and nodded, before leading him - or more like, being led by what appeared to be her five-year-old - towards a wishing well that was shrouded by branches, only a short walk from where Maggie was currently sitting.   How strange - she had just been thinking about a wish - something she could have changed, if she had the chance.   Maggie thought about it for a moment as she heard the excited laughter of the child as he walked back from the wishing well with his mum.   At that moment, Maggie didn't even think about it. She got up, put away the last part of her sandwich, and then walked over to the wishing well herself.   She stood above the black hole of the well, as the trees on the branches around her rustled gently in the wind. Maggie hunted for any kind of change she had, and eventually found a 20 pence piece that had lost its shine a long time ago.   Maggie shut her eyes as she let the coin go and listened to the silence until she heard the soft sound of it hitting the water amongst the soft sound of the leaves.   As soon as she heard the coin hit the water, she didn't have to think twice about her wish - it appeared in her head naturally, like the sun coming up every morning.   'I wish my younger self could have realised sooner that her anxiety wasn’t her fault.'   Maggie let the wish linger in her mind for a moment, until she felt ready to open her eyes. The only thing was, when she did, Maggie found herself no longer standing in front of the wishing well. In fact, she found herself standing outside of her childhood home. In the front garden, with the oak tree that towered over her when she moved out at age eighteen looking a lot smaller than she remembered it. The question is, how did she even get here?   Maggie took a moment to regard her surroundings, just in case there was a clear sign that this was some kind of dream - or maybe she fell and hit her head on the way back from the well - until she thought she saw something move in one of the upstairs windows - her childhood bedroom window. Could it be...   And then, just as the thought crossed her mind, she saw it - or rather, she saw herself, her younger self, staring down at her from her old bedroom.   Had her wish actually worked? As Maggie felt the bewilderment surge through her, she heard her young self call out from the now open window.   'Hey, you better go, or I'm going to call the police!'   Maggie felt a strange surge of pride at her younger self, suddenly having a flash of a memory - seeing her older self-outside, threatening to call the police until she was able to convince her younger self to let her inside. But what did she say, exactly? Maggie thought about it for a moment, hating having to lie to herself but somehow knowing, even then, that it was necessary.   'Sorry, my car broke down on the road and my phone is dead - can I use your phone, please?'   Maggie saw herself think about this for a moment, before disappearing, and then reappearing a moment later in front of the back door.   Maggie looked at her younger self - pale, exhausted, and struggling with a mental illness she didn't yet understand - and had to resist the urge to pull herself into a hug as she remembered just how awful she used to feel. But she had to resist - whether this was a dream or not, she couldn't give herself away.   'You can use the landline,' the younger her said, quietly. 'But my dad is in the shower, so don't try anything.'   Maggie smiled, grateful, yes, but mostly nostalgic, as she stepped inside her childhood home. It was just as she remembered, but brighter - more alive. She smiled at the sight of her schoolwork stuck on the fridge, and even the sight of school photos she had hated brought her joy.   She heard the younger her sigh as she pulled out a kitchen chair and gingerly sat down, as if she was analysing her every move. Maggie remembered doing that every time she was in front of other people - over analysing everything she said or did to make sure no one thought she was strange, or weird.   Once again, Maggie resisted the urge to hug her younger self as she typed in eleven random numbers into her old kitchen landline and pretended to ask a fake garage for help because her car had broken down. Her younger self watched her, trying her hardest to mask the anxiety Maggie knew all too well, as she hung up the phone.   ‘Thank you - they said they'll be here in fifteen minutes,’ Maggie said.   Her younger self nodded. ‘Okay. Would you uh… like some tea, while you wait?’   Maggie thought about it for a moment, before realising that while leaving would be the logical thing to do, it would actually be the worst thing for her to do right now.   ‘That would be lovely, yeah, thank you. Tea, milk and two sugars please.’   Her younger self nodded. ‘Same as me,’ she said, quietly.   Maggie took a moment to take in the absurdity of the fact that she was sitting there around her old kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea with her younger self.   Maggie let her tea cool as she watched the steam rise above it as her younger self took a sip and nearly choked on the piping hot tea.   Maggie even felt it burning her tongue as she jumped up to help her younger self. But luckily, after a moment of coughing, she seemed okay - if only very, very embarrassed.   'Are you alright?' Maggie asked anyway, even though she knew the answer. It was the same reason why her younger self drank the tea even though it was hot - to ease the awkwardness.   Her younger self nodded. 'Yeah, thanks.’   Maggie sat back down opposite herself, knowing that this was far from the truth. But how on earth could she mention it?   Her younger self sighed again, quieter this time, and fidgeting with her hands - a clear sign that she was feeling anxious, even now. Then Maggie realised exactly how she could take this opportunity to open up to her younger self. Or have herself open up to herself, she wasn't quite sure which way around it would go.   ‘So… How’s school going? I remember school so vividly when I was your age,’ Maggie said, brightly.   Her younger self feigned a smile but couldn't quite look Maggie in the eye when she responded. ‘Yeah, it's fine.’   ‘Do you have a favourite subject?’   Her younger self paused for a moment, and Maggie noticed tears shining in her younger self's eyes, before she quickly blinked them away.   ‘...No, not really. I'm… not really a fan of school.’   ‘Oh, that's fair enough. You know, I had a friend who was exactly the same.’ Maggie said, choosing not to mention that the friend was actually herself. ‘She was really anxious every day - but y'know, she still did really well in the end.’ She paused for a moment, realising just how much she meant the words she was about to say. ‘I'm really proud of her.’   ‘That's nice,’ her younger self said, before she added, quietly. ‘She was anxious the whole time?’ It was as if she couldn't believe it, and Maggie knew that feeling well. Of first realising she wasn't alone, and that others felt the same way as her.   Maggie nodded. ‘Pretty much, until someone gave her a piece of advice way later that changed everything for her.’   Her younger self digested those words as Maggie felt the weight of the words that followed - and just how desperate her younger self was to hear them.   ‘What were they?’   Maggie took a sip of her now cool enough tea before replying, as she suddenly found her mouth was dry.   ‘It was just… That she didn't need to feel like that all the time. That just because it was her normal, it didn’t have to be. And that with help - from a doctor, from those around her, she could get better.’   Maggie watched her younger self gulp.   ‘And did she? Get better?’   Maggie nodded, blinking back her own set of tears, as she watched her younger self nod and take all of this in.   ‘That's good.’ She said, finally, before bringing her tea to her mouth and drinking. ‘That she didn't have to feel that way forever.’   Maggie nodded again. ‘It was hard, but she did it. And she is always telling me that it was the best thing she ever did.’   Her younger self gently put her mug of tea down, before asking. ‘And she… she just made an appointment with her doctor?’   Maggie nodded, as she watched her younger self take this in.   ‘Right. I - I have a friend who feels the same, sometimes. I think I might tell them to see a doctor too - if it helped your friend so much.’   Maggie nodded encouragingly. ‘That sounds like a great idea.’   ‘Thank you - for telling me.’ Her younger self replied, looking Maggie in the eye to smile, just slightly.   Maggie felt something settle in her chest. Her heart, possibly, beating steady with a rush of love towards her younger self, and she was about to say something else just as she heard a voice from faraway call her name. Was it her dad, from upstairs?   ‘Maggie! Maggie!’   Maggie took a deep breath in and as she blinked, she suddenly found herself back at the theme park, and standing in front of the wishing well.   ‘Maggie!’   Maggie turned to see her friends shouting her name and waving at her from the benches where she told them she'd be - in a moment that felt like it was a lifetime away. Maybe it was, she thought.   Maggie took one last look down into the darkness of the well as a flood of memories hit her. Sitting across from a kind older woman in the kitchen after her car broke down, hearing someone tell her what she so badly needed to hear, and talking to her parents so she could see a GP. How she got help sooner, and did so much more as a result, because she didn't wait. Because she didn't spend decades believing her anxiety was just a part of her life.   Maggie watched as a few tears fell into the well, and she wiped them away quickly before walking away, and back towards her friends.   They weren't sad tears, not exactly - no, she thought. They were tears of pride. For having the courage to listen to someone, to realise they could be right, and working to get better, so much sooner… it made her chest ache, she was so damn proud of her younger self.   ‘You alright, Mags?’ One of her friends asked, as she reached them.   ‘I'm great,’ Maggie said, realising that she was telling the truth, and that thanks to a wishing well, feeling great was a common occurrence throughout her life, all because she made that wish.

Authors Note: If you are interested in taking part in the CODA study, please visit our CODA study page  or email coda@kcl.ac.uk . For millions of people worldwide, obesity  and depression are a one-two punch, with each exacerbating the severity of the other in a vicious feedback loop. In England alone, recent reports  suggest that around two-thirds of adults are living with overweight or obesity , meanwhile, one in five adults report experiencing depressive symptoms . With how widespread and interlinked the two disorders are, the need for better, more holistic treatments has never been more urgent. The classic “one-size-fits-all” treatment approach is far from helpful for many conditions; research over the years has continually emphasised the importance of tailoring treatment to each individual . This push towards personalised medicine has inspired exploration into how we look at disorders – not as discrete events but rather as overlapping and interlinked with other disorders. A Promising Alternative The frustrating but expected reality is that developing new drugs from scratch is an extremely lengthy and expensive process. In 2023 alone, global pharmaceutical research and development spending surpassed $300 billion , an almost 17% increase from the previous year’s total. The trade association PhRMA  estimates that it can take up to 15 years for a novel drug to ultimately receive approval  for medical use. So, what’s the alternative? One promising option: repurposing existing  medications . Utilising medications that we know are safe for use in humans saves years of time, millions in research funding, and countless failures. In turn, this can grant an expedited approval process, ultimately allowing patients to access necessary treatments more quickly. This can be a particularly attractive route for scientists researching treatments for rare and under-funded conditions. Furthermore, using an already vetted medication means that we already have information regarding how it works, safe dosing, and potential side effects. This provides researchers, participants, and clinicians greater insight into how the drug will be administered and reduces the risk of unexpected adverse effects. Of course, just because a drug works in one condition doesn’t guarantee it will in another, so vigorous testing must still be conducted. The Story So Far In comorbid obesity and depression, one often-suggested link between the two disorders is a dysregulated immune response. The immune system is our body’s built-in first response against infection and other threats in the body. When we are sick, the immune system is activated as a protective response. Though this is a normal and necessary reaction in the short term, when the immune system continually perceives harmful stimuli in the body despite no infection, it can lead to chronically elevated levels of inflammation . This is something that researchers have been noticing in people with obesity and depression and why our lab, The PIXIE Lab , decided to investigate further. The BARIDEP study (BARiatric surgery and DEPression)  was an observational study following patients undergoing weight loss surgery before, 6 months, and 3 years after the procedure. We looked at inflammation in the blood and depressive symptoms over time. In short, we found that those living with both depression and obesity had more chronically elevated CRP levels (C-Reactive Protein: a biological marker of inflammation) than their obesity-only peers. Running in parallel was the MINDEP study (MINocycline and DEPression) : a clinical trial investigating the effects of minocycline in people with depression. Over the years, minocycline has garnered great interest in the field of psychiatry for a myriad of reasons. First and foremost, though the drug is well-known as an antibiotic, its benefits go far beyond fighting infections and, in the context of treatment-resistant depression, its anti-inflammatory properties are particularly noteworthy. Studies have shown promise for minocycline as an add-on treatment for depression, especially in individuals with elevated C-reactive protein (CRP) levels – a biological marker of inflammation in the blood. If you’re a long-time Inspire the Mind reader, you may remember an article from a few years ago by Dr Etta Nettis about the MINDEP study . Our findings were compelling: while four weeks of minocycline treatment alleviated depressive symptoms compared to a placebo (a sugar pill with no active drug), these effects were only seen in individuals with CRP levels above 3mg/L. Minocycline’s anti-inflammatory impact isn’t limited to the blood and body though. In fact, thanks to its ability to cross the blood-brain barrier, the drug is able to act directly on the brain's immune cells, called microglia. In individuals with depression, these cells often become overactive, disrupting mood regulation and cognitive functions. Research suggests that minocycline may help “calm” this overactivity, potentially alleviating depressive symptoms. So, what’s next in the obesity meets depression meets inflammation story?   Introducing: The CODA Study Taking what we learned from BARIDEP and MINDEP, we designed the CODA study  (Comorbid Obesity & Depression with Adjunctive treatment): a feasibility study testing whether individuals with both obesity and treatment-resistant depression can complete an 8-week course of daily minocycline alongside their regular antidepressant treatment, as well as a series of biological sample collections, questionnaires, and brain scans. The study will also aim to provide insight into how minocycline functions in this population, and how helpful using biomarkers of inflammation, like elevated CRP, are to identify patients most likely to benefit from anti-inflammatory treatments. And after many many  months of admin, planning, writing, and rewriting, we finally received our ethics approval and official go-ahead to begin recruitment. Taking what we learned from MINDEP, we’re only recruiting people with depression, a body mass index (BMI) above 30kg/m2, and a CRP above 3mg/L, since research suggests they are most likely to see improvement with minocycline treatment. What could this all mean for the future? As a feasibility study, CODA will help pave the way for a future randomised clinical trial where we can explore the efficacy of this medication in a much larger sample. Likewise, our findings could highlight new targeted approaches to ameliorating depression in people with obesity. Instead of a “one-size-fits-all” approach, we could use criteria like BMI and CRP levels to identify who with TRD is most likely to benefit from anti-inflammatory treatments like minocycline. Depression and obesity are complex conditions, and finding effective treatments isn’t easy. However, by looking beyond traditional approaches and exploring the role of inflammation, we hope to provide new options for those who need them most. Research like this is a collaboration between scientists and participants, so now that the study is ready to go, we need your help! You can read more about what participation entails on our website . If all this has you interested, and you think you might be eligible to take part, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us at coda@kcl.ac.uk for more information.

In 2024, the answer to the question “what is a man” is expanding. Society is slowly (but surely) embracing manhood in all forms. Manhood in relation to race, sexuality, and gender are continuously being dissected. But, there is another sphere of men that are being left out, one I am personally connected to: autistic men (and disabled men at large). I was diagnosed when I was three years old. I presented it as a standard, DSM-following case (meaning I met the criteria for “high-functioning autism” in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), which led me to ABA (Applied Behavioral Analysis)  therapy , which many consider a highly controversial practice. I don’t remember specific details of my time in it, but it certainly did its job in conditioning to suppress my autism. What my ABA therapist didn’t realise was that not only did I suppress my autism; I suppressed my whole manhood. Manhood Villainized Autism I remember always questioning my every move as a kid. Most kids grow up not wanting to do or say something embarrassing since they’ll more than likely be made fun of for it. In my own brain, I came to the conclusion that childhood is an extended period of “trial-and-error.” Some kids are lucky enough to get a cheat sheet. Others - like autistic children - are never given one and get left behind. For example, one of my favorite TV shows of all-time is The Twilight Zone with Rod Serling. There was a day in middle school where I brought my copy of the second season to share with the class. Needless to say, my old interest didn’t resonate with a 2012 audience. It was that day where I consciously learned to suppress my autism for the first time. Growing up, I was certainly picked on for my “weird” habits. I remember vividly a boy in my class made fun of me for stimming (self-stimulating behaviour)   in the car on my way to school once. It struck a chord with me given it was something I did to put myself at ease. I would rock back and forth listening to music to soothe myself. It felt embarrassing to be called out like that and, since then, I haven’t stimmed that way. Moments like that would make me feel isolated. I let those moments define me as a man, telling myself I was inferior to everyone else because I have a disability. So, to combat these feelings, I searched for inspiration. Manhood Required Me to Mask My Autism Masking, in my opinion, is the most misunderstood concept regarding autism. Masking is something I learned in ABA therapy, and it’s taken me years to realise how much I let it shape my opinion on my autism. Given my manhood, the mask I was forced to wear made me see autistic people who can’t mask as inferior. “If I can mask, why can’t you?” I would ask myself. I believed that the world is a place we can all thrive in as long as we leave ourselves at the door (an oxymoron I now realise). I never saw my mask as a bad thing. I went and put all of my energy into theater, another special interest of mine (ridiculed by the men around me). It was a perfect form of escapism that only fueled my desire to “not let my autism define me.” But, it eventually caught up to me. In 2021, I experienced strong   autistic burnout for the first time. It felt like my mind was paralysed, unable to pursue any of my career endeavors. I came to the crossroads of choosing whether to “be a man” or “be autistic.” My black-and-white thinking made me believe I had to choose which identity to lean into. Because society puts us in boxes, I struggled to make up my mind. One of the most common beliefs held by men is that we can’t show our emotions. It’s a heteronormative idea, explained away through arguments such as “women think it’s unmanly” and “men are supposed to be providers.” With that, I was raised to think I had to follow the traditional path of manhood: get married to a woman, have a family, be successful in the workforce. I followed none of those rules. Instead, I came to the conclusion that “manhood” wasn’t for me and that being a man goes beyond these old school ideas. You can go on social media and see that. Autistic Men Can Rewrite Manhood In the age of social media, autistic men are able to create platforms to shine light on their experiences. Fritz Johnson is one of them, who speaks candidly of how difficult living with autism is (his Instagram bio  even reads “Autism sucks. I’m going to win anyway). He posts reels sharing his opinions on various things, such as how “masking” (hiding your autistic traits) is a good thing. In the video, he explains how masking is a sort of necessary evil in order to survive in a world not made for us. To be fair, he’s got a point. Many of the late-diagnosed/self-diagnosed crowd would say autistic people should be able to live without a mask and stim freely. Trevor Carroll   is another autistic influencer. He was diagnosed as an adult after waiting a year to receive a diagnosis. Now, he uses his social media to talk about how he lives with it today, including how fitness has become a special interest of his. Social media has many pros and cons (and the autistic influencers I mentioned here certainly don’t represent all autistic men). For me, all of my experiences have made me realise that being a man is subjective. The social constructs we’ve created based on sex are man-made, which makes them innately objective. So yes, I will indulge in The Twilight Zone . I will indulge in theater. I will indulge in my queerness. I will indulge in whatever I please because that is what being a man is. Being autistic has given me the tools to deconstruct manhood, and that is something I, as a man, would encourage other autistics to do.

A personal perspective on neurodivergence How would you react if I said you’re neurodiverse? Collectively, you as readers are! As a population with different brains and immune systems, there is inherent diversity, much like biodiversity in an ecosystem. But what about neurodivergence specifically? As a young, white, professional female in higher education, do I need to write a blog about neurodiversity and neurodivergence? For the first two decades of my life, I wasn’t aware that I could be considered neurodivergent. Instead, I was chronically burning out, likely in part because of masking my undetected dyslexia. My misconceptions about dyslexia meant I hadn’t recognised the characteristics I had always displayed, but instead I validated my misunderstanding with the fact that I could read and write well enough. Plus, dyslexia hadn’t been suggested to me at school, where my compensatory efforts and perfectionist tendencies fooled both me and my teachers, and my slow writing was overlooked because of my academic performance at the time. I interpreted the difficulties that I faced then as my inherent stupidity, a persistent lack of effort and generally, yet more evidence of being a failure. Since receiving my diagnosis, my mental health challenges haven’t disappeared, but I can understand some of my anxiety and obsessive traits that I experience, and start to remove the self-blame I attributed to my undetected dyslexic challenges. Of course, the story is more complex than that, but you can read a little of my experience with my mental health so far in my first blog ‘ Recognising good mental health .’ My story of being neurodivergent is one of many thousands of others. I do have to acknowledge the privilege of being in the position to have my dyslexia spotted in my final undergraduate year, the resources to have a diagnostic assessment, and the encouragement of friends and family to help me respond to indirect discrimination I experience today. To help us understand the various stories, social media posts, news articles and research you may come across, I’ve attempted to differentiate between the terms we see surrounding neurodivergence — neurodiversity, neurodivergent and neurodivergence. Neurodiversity was first defined by Judy Singer in her sociology thesis in 1998 to describe the presence of neurological differences that exist in a population . This is much like the term biodiversity, in fact could even be considered a subset of biodiversity, which describing the biological variance that naturally exists in an environment. Originally, neurodiversity was created as a political and socially empowering term, rather than a purely scientific one, to inclusively group and give voice to neurological minorities. Therefore, neurodiversity is true of any given population or group of individuals, since we are not exact clones of one another. As Singer explains “every human has a unique nervous system with a unique combination of abilities and needs.” Being dyslexic, I don’t always find words easy. One way I use to remember the difference between neurodiversity and neurodivergent is by linking it back to Singer’s thought process. By remembering that neurodiversity is neurological diversity, a subset of biodiversity, I can then associate it with a whole population. The term neurodivergent (ND) was defined by Kassiane Asasumasu to refer to someone who is neurologically divergent (moved away) from typical neurological (neurotypical NT) functioning . This encompasses people who are autistic, dyslexic, or have ADHD, learning disabilities, mental health conditions and more. Neurodivergent is an inclusive umbrella term to capture all those who, in basic words, think, process or relate differently to the NT norm. Neurodivergence describes the various types of these ‘atypical’ neurological functioning and processing , so describes autism, ADHD, dyslexia etc. Note: Often, the terms neurodiversity and neurodivergence are used interchangeably in research, clinical settings and in the media. The sociological drift of using both these words to describe ND people may not be reversible, despite the loss of original intent and distinct original definitions. Both ND and NT individuals may use the term neurodiversity when describing mostly neurodivergence and ND individuals. Below is a great illustration by Sonny, autistic trainer, consultant, and therapist, showing the difference and use of these terms. So why celebrate and advocate for neurodiversity? For too long, the question in research has been “What is wrong with this individual or group in relation to those who are normal?” [and it is being replaced by] “How can we understand the strengths, limitations, struggles, or potential of this group or individual in the wider social context?” . Whilst empathetically acknowledging that neurodivergence can be disabling, we can learn to recognise the individual and societal advantages of neurodivergence, that exist alongside the hardships. This acknowledgement is the opposite of ‘toxic positivity’, where for example, with ADHD, hyperfocus may be misunderstood as a malleable tool for universal productivity when desired. If the environment we are in favours neurotypical attributes, at the expense of, or by not also favouring, neurodivergent attributes, then neurodivergence will confer a disadvantage, due to the environmental context. However, both acknowledging neurodivergent advantageous traits and providing support to level the playing field (eg. assistive technology, a communication plan, even simple non-specific modifications like sending emails in an easier-to-read font type) can start to create more equal opportunities for neurodivergent individuals. For example, elsewhere on the blog site, you can read Tse-Yi Li’s piece about creating a dance class, specifically accessible for neurodivergent people, which resulted in the classes having a positive impact on the attendees’ wellbeing. Research has shown that dyslexia can lead to greater creativity and enhanced pattern recognition compared to neurotypicals. Broadly, neurodivergent individuals can find ways to help adapt to the neurotypical environments, as well as uniquely displaying high levels of creativity, innovation and problem solving. Traditionally, society, especially the corporate world, has indirectly asked individuals to fit into a uniform model, thus suppressing or excluding the benefit the increased neurodiversity brings. Anna Wittenberg , an economist and former Chief Diversity and Inclusion Lead (SAP), notes that “Innovation is most likely to come from parts of us that we don’t all share.” There are many important conversations and topics that follow on from this blog, such as the perceived connotations of not being neurotypical, the mental health impacts of neurodivergence from pre- to post-diagnosis in our societal context, the mismatch between legal equality rights, actual provision and failings leading to indirect discrimination. I wish I’d learnt more about the misconceptions and facts of neurodivergence in societal functioning before my diagnosis — not so much for me, but so I could have better understood and related to the 15% of our population who think and process in a more unique way.