She is Love

She’s the past, she’s the present,

She’s the future; she is all.

She is love.



Arms branching out,

Leafy fingers

Wiggling in the breeze,

I exhale.

Grounding myself,

Right at the root,

My trunk getting stronger

And stronger.

Eyes flutter closed,

Focusing on

The Earth beneath my feet:

The life force.

Noticing thoughts


Concentrating, steady,

I inhale.

Prana rising,

Centring energy,

Feeling the shake of my

Living limbs

The Depression of a Loved One

It’s so hard to know how to approach a loved one when they’re in the gruelling throes of depression.

Depression is a brutal, unforgiving state. Depression doesn’t care if you have a job to go to and deadlines to meet. Depression doesn’t care if you have a dog to walk or kids to entertain. Depression doesn’t care how much money you have, how you look, where you live or what kind of shoes you’re wearing. Depression doesn’t discriminate.

This can make it really hard when you’re a bystander, watching your loved one struggle. You might be thinking, ‘What can you possibly be sad about right now?’ You might look at your sibling, parent, spouse or child, and wonder what on Earth they could feel down about. Maybe your love isn’t enough for them? Maybe you’ve done something wrong?

There is no reasoning with depression. Your loved one isn’t thinking rationally because this awful disease – yes, a mental disease – is prohibiting them from thinking like you are in this moment. For them, the smallest detail can feel like the loudest foghorn, reminding them of their failure, their worthlessness, their utmost shame and uselessness.

Standing on the sidelines is painful. It’s hard to see them going through such torturous thoughts and inward hatred. It’s hard, and it’s ok for you to find it hard. Know that. Accept that.

The best you can do for them is let them know you are there. It might feel like this falls on deaf ears a lot of the time, but it will seep in to their consciousness and they will take comfort in the fact that they are not alone. Even if being there for them means messaging once a day to check in and ask how they’re getting on. Or lying with them in silence, watching crap tv. Or chatting with them, letting them spout their unrelenting inner monologue at you, without judgement or rebuke. Or giving them a notebook to write down their thoughts and let them out on to the paper.

Depression affects everyone differently. It is a killer. But we can be there for our loved ones, let them know that we are there through thick and thin, through the ugly frustration and seemingly endless hopelessness. It may not seem like it does any good, but stick with it. And I know, it’s so much easier said than done.

Give them that time, without suffocating them. Give them that chance to vent or that chance to sit in silence. Give them hope.