Little by little, the fog is thinning. The new treatment has started to settle, and the edges grow sharper — clearer, sometimes crisp. I’m coming out of the dark, out of a deep well, one step at a time. Not every day, not evenly, but the line is finally rising. There’s a quiet shift inside me, a sense that this heaviness is not forever.

After the last episodes, the treatment shifted: a stepped-up drug, a different shape — white and blue. I can feel them kicking in. Clarity arrives in brief spells. Still two treatments. The edges of things grow crisper; for moments I slip back into focus, as if the room snaps into place. The feeling doesn’t hold, but it throws off small sparks — of joy, of sense.

There has been a pause, though not a rest. Two treatments overlap — one phasing in, the other still lingering, phasing out in a matter of weeks. They press against each other inside me, leaving me stranded in between. Isolated bursts arrive from nowhere, set off by things that should be harmless: an innocent remark, a missed call, the small tremor of a day shifting its light.

These days feel like being jammed in a greyness that won’t lift. The stormy sky only completes the feeling. I’m here, but not moving. Not forward, not back. A kind of idle status, crossing fingers not to slide into the past again, trying to glimpse the sun behind the clouds. Disorientation lingers. Blank spaces appear during the day, precisely when I need to focus, when effort is required to remember what to do.

These days are as if made of nothing.Insensitive hours, new treatment.A still lake covered in fog and pills. There is barely a cold breeze, the wind no longer blows.The water does not stir.Everythi…

This afternoon I will see a new specialist.It was personally arranged by my general practitioner.He spoke of mental illness, then softened his words.And those two words remain there,holding their balance — or their imbalance. A faint hope that it might be a step forward,yet a new abyss opens. I stand still, frozen, staring at its edge.Not knowing whether the path continuesor whether the void that comes next.

MSF's frontline medical testimony on systematic mass casualties from GHF sites in Gaza, Palestine.

MSF's frontline medical testimony on systematic mass casualties from GHF sites in Gaza, Palestine.

Sometimes you go blank. Sometimes you go black. What you try to grasp isn’t an idea, or a well-structured sentence, not even a coherent set of words. It’s a line. Or many. Or all of them. A scribble. Like the ones you used to draw in the margins back in school, when you didn’t know how to begin. Or what to do.

Splinters Your mind has broken.It feels impossible — like saying the air itself had fractured.No sound, no visible wound. No blood. No fever. Only splinters.And nothing fits the way it used to. Everything around you stays the same. The world doesn't change.The lights, the objects, the people you know — all remain in place.The one who isn’t there in the same way… is you.

I used to think healing was like climbing a mountain —a steady, upward path if you just had enough effort, discipline, pills, and hope.And for a while, it felt like I was making progress.Breathless…

Depression isn’t just deep sadness.It’s also watching yourself drift away from everything you loved — writing, music, photography, friends, the soft morning light through the window —and being unab…

A Milestone: The English Version of Tales of Shadow is Finally Here! I am thrilled to share some exciting news with you all—Tales of Shadow, my debut book, is now available in English! This collection of contemporary Gothic stories, inspired by true events that took place in Flanders, is finally accessible to a wider audience. Tales of Shadow…