The everyday lounge and sporty outfit

Outfit: The Kooples hoodie, Alexander Wang t-shirt, The Kooples track pants (similar here), Nike sneakers, Miu Miu sunglasses, Hermes Cape Cod watch and Monica Vinader bracelet.

I'd say, 80% of my daily uniform resembles a variation of the outfit above. I love the sporty luxe style but I don't particularly want to look like I'm heading off to the gym either. The problem with working from home is that you do become lazier and lazier about getting dressed in the morning. After all, there's really no one to impress but after frightening the poor postman and the courier drivers who knocked on my door with my disheveled shabbily loungewear garbed self, I decided to get slightly edgier sweats. That way, I could run out the door without having to change out of my comfy clothes.

Despite my rather inopportune start with The Kooples which was resolved brilliantly by one of their managers, I'm rather addicted to their fantabulous sweatpants. They're cool, edgy and affordable especially if you manage to nab a pair during the sale season. They also have enough stretch that they keep their shape and don't resemble baggy harem pants after a couple of hours (unless you prefer the drop crotch style). My advice is to take your normal size or size up if you prefer a looser fit.

5 Favorite Things

Anti clockwise: Neom organic candle, Wedgwood teapot (on sale here), Robert Welch butter knife, vintage spoon, Wedgwood teacup and saucer (on sale here).

When it comes to fashion, I prefer black, stark, edgy and dramatic clothes but my preference is quite the opposite with tea sets, cutlery or flowers. I like them pretty, dainty and in hues of pastels. It's like a Jekyll and Hyde thing......... I love the smiles on my friends' faces when I serve them tea in pretty cups and teapots. Tea invariably tastes better too (it's probably a psychological effect). I found these antique looking ivory cutlery from John Lewis which I adore. Ditto for the butter knife. Beautifully made and very affordable too. I reserve my favorite 3 wick Neom organic candles for  special occasions. They contain none of those nasty synthetic fragrance and don't cause my asthma to flare up.

Is anyone out there collecting pretty and dainty tea sets too? Or as obsessed as I am about cutlery?

Rocker Vibe

Outfit: Miu Miu sunglasses, Isabel Marant leopard print top (similar, from current collection), Zara jeans, Rick Owens leather jacket, Nicholas Kirkwood heels, Hermes Cape Cod watch, Monica Vinader bracelet and Chanel WOC (similar here).


After spending months breathing and dreaming about the Sisterhood project, I feel somewhat emotionally drained as the subject matters aren't particularly lightweight. My work isn't done yet but right now, I'd like to go off on a totally different tangent and post something frivolous and easier on the brain for a change.

It's been months since my last outfit post. This was what I wore recently to an evening out with friends. By the way, I thought I'd never EVER say this about a pair of heels but these Nicholas Kirkwoods are so beautifully made and incredibly comfortable. The unique and clever construction of the triangular heel provided superb support. I've sprained my ankles (yes, both!) more than 40 times (reoccurring sports injury) so skinny heels are out for me unless I have a death wish. Navigating the cobbled streets of London and dodging hundreds of fellow commuters whilst wearing a pair of heels has never been easier. I’m not good at swapping shoes and I rarely bring a pair of flats if I'm wearing heels either. I literally cringed when I first saw the price tag but now, I'm so pleased I bought them. Do keep an eye out for discounted Nicholas Kirkwood heels on either The Outnet or Yoox.

I go through phases where I develop a uniform and wear the same clothes to death before moving on to the next lot. Right now, it's these Rick Owens Naska jacket and Zara jeans. I'm a fervent supporter of Rick Owens leather jackets. His jackets create a beautiful hourglass silhouette. It's like a jacket and a shapewear in one. It has that rocker vibe with an added femininity flair. Speaking of sunglasses, I'm so pleased I've finally found a pair of sunglasses with nose pads. I no longer have to deal with sunglasses sliding down my nose (typical if you're Asian with a rather low nose bridge) or resting on my cheeks (pfffffffttttt).

Marc by Marc Jacobs & Latest shoe obsession

Photo credit: Emma & Steph




After a flurry of emails and tweets, Emma, Steph, Jesse and I had a mini reunion at Matches Fashion's Marc by Marc Jacobs launch by Katie Hillier and Luella Bartley. It's certainly not the first time the two talented designers have worked together before. Their decade long collaboration started when the latter set up her eponymous line. This is their first collection for Marc, the diffusion line of Marc Jacobs that's completely devoid of its previous more feminine and whimsical theme. The new Marc by Marc Jacobs is retro and anime inspired with a more urbane vibe.

I may be accused of being a shoe fetishist but can you blame me if you're standing in a room with both men and women dressed to the nines? Strapped to Katie Hillier's feet were these pointy and bold mid heels (anything 2.5 inches high and below gets a BIG tick from me). Another fashionably garbed attendee was wearing the same heels. Sadly, there weren't any to try on but I'm now both intrigued and obsessed about these wicked Marc by Marc Jacobs "Runway" heels.

By 8pm, I hauled both Emma and Steph out the front door as I was hungry enough to contemplate gnawing on the handbags displayed so tastily on the shelves. Thankfully, we were within walking distance to the closest Italian restaurant where we whiled the night away eating and chatting.

Black on Black

Outfit: T by Alexander Wang t-shirt, Zara jeans, Étoile Isabel Marant sweatshirt (similar here), Hermes Cape Cod watch, Monica Vinader bracelet, Chanel nail varnish, Topshop boots, Chanel WOC, Hermes Collier de Chien, Rick Owens Naska leather jacket (similar and on sale here) and Nicholas Kirkwood heels (similar & on sale here).


Whenever I turn up to a fashion event, I'm usually one of the rare individuals that's dressed in black from head (this includes my hair and glasses too). I've finally made peace with my monochrome loving self and will always admire those who embrace bold colors from afar. The black on black outfits are what I feel most comfortable and confident in. I realize that an all black outfit is yawn inducing so these days, I tend to go for statement pieces. Jackets that hang and drape differently or have a dramatic flair. Shoes or accessories that pop and break the monotony of the matrix look.

When I look back at my earlier (and rare) photos, I was clad in more feminine and polished clothes but as I age (ooooh the dreaded word), I prefer outfits with a more rocker and androgynous vibe. Who knows what I'd like a decade from now? What about you? Have you notice a change in your personal style?

Quick & Easy Korean savory pancakes

When I was living and working in central Auckland, going to a Korean restaurant was a weekly pilgrimage. Having a Korean sister in law is a huge advantage too because we would stuff our faces silly with tteok (rice cakes) and whatever array of side dishes she'd made while our kids knock themselves out with their crazy antics. The downside of being based in Hampshire means that authentic Asian restaurants are slim pickings indeed. It seems rather silly to trek all the way to London for a meal.

A few months ago, I found this rather awesome Ottogi pancake mix which is essentially a lazy cook's secret weapon. It means that I can prepare an easy,  nutritious and pretty darn authentic Korean dish prepared in less than 15 minutes. Toss in plenty of vegetables, shrimp and squid in and you've got yourself a proper meal. There are so many ways you can make it but this is my take. Be careful not to add too much water or else you'll get a soggy and tasteless pancake. For those of you in the U.K, the Ottogi pancake mix can be purchased at most Asian supermarkets. If you can't get to one, it's also available online on Amazon and Wai Yee Hong.


Ingredients
2 cups of Ottogi pancake mix
2/3 cups of water
200g prawns
2 spring onions, sliced diagonally
1 carrot, cut into strips
2-4 tablespoons of oil for frying (replenish for each pancake)

1. Pour the pancake powder and water into a mixing bowl. Mix well until batter is relatively smooth and not lumpy.
2. Add the prawns, spring onions and carrots (or whatever vegetables you're using but make sure they're in small bits so that they can cook quickly).
3. Heat the non stick frying pan and add oil.
4. Once the pan is sufficiently hot, use a ladle to scoop up the mixture and gently pour it on the surface of the pan.
5. Use the back of the ladle to spread out the mixture so it'll cook quicker.
6. Once one side of the pancake has turned brown, gently flip (I use two spatulas, one on either side of the pancake to stop the oil from splattering) the pancake and cook the other side. Make sure you adjust the heat accordingly. Reduce the heat if the pan gets too hot or when the pancake browns too quickly.
7.  Once both sides of the pancake are cooked, remove it from the pan and drain it on a piece of kitchen paper towel.
8. Serve with kimchi if you have any.

10 Cheap Thrills

1. Mango pocket shirt   £29.99  (use code 5MNG for 30% discount)

2. Senso Freja pointed flats £139

3. Mango double breasted coat £119  (use code 5MNG for 30% discount)

4. Other Stories cashmere scarf £55

5. M & S lace bandeau shorts  £6 (3 for 2)

6. Lulu Guinness for Uniqlo sweatshirt £19.90

7. Comme des Garçons card holder  £65

8. Zara ripped jeans  £29.99

9. Other Stories wide brim hat £29

10. New Balance 420 sneakers £65

1. Mango pocket shirt   £29.99 (use code 5MNG for 30% discount)

I've been hankering for a slightly oversized white or blue shirt. I'm still fearful of wearing anything white, only because it's a miracle if I come home unscathed even if the garment was on my body for an hour. 

2. Senso Freja pointed flats £139

I'm told that pointy shoes have a leg lengthening effect. When you're this short, you're willing to give anything a go, bar actual leg lengthening operation. I have a closetful of pretty tame looking ballet flats.  Plain Janes don't tickle my fancy these days because my feet think it's time they're in the spotlight.

3. Mango double breasted coat  £119  (use code 5MNG for 30% discount)

While I'm rubbish at following trends, this season's must-have is essentially the good ol' classic outerwear - sleek, tailored coats which will smarten up any casual outfit in an instant.

4. Other Stories cashmere scarf   £55  

No doubt there are hundreds of better quality cashmere scarves out there but if your budget is under £60, this one from Other Stories is good value for money.

5. M & S lace bandeau shorts   £6

I'm not one who enjoys flashing my undies to the world but bargains like these favorites of mine from M&S need to be shared. Their lace bandeau undies are ridiculously comfortable, well made, sexy (RAAAWWWRRRR!!) and best of all, very affordable. 

6. Lulu Guinness for Uniqlo sweatshirt  £19.99

Simplicity with a quirky take on the all time favorite garment - the sweatshirt. 

7. Comme des Garçons card holder   £65

I've got an overstuffed Amazonian sized wallet which scared a lot of individuals when I pull it out. It doesn't fit into my smaller bags so I've been hunting for a card holder that I can stuff some bills into. They're surprisingly pricey which was why I was taken aback by the more reasonable price tag from Comme des Garçons. 

8. Zara ripped jeans   £29.99

Remember my infamous ripped boyfriend jeans? The ones which I wore so often that I planned to change my blog name to Ionlywearboyfriendjeans.com? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. I live near North Pole.....well, close to it.......so wearing properly ripped......like showing-skin-ripped- jeans is like asking to be turned into an ice cube. I rather fancy these ones from Zara that are superficially ripped..... There's ripped and then there's you know....riiiiiiippppped. 

#Marlene'sgonebonkers.

9. Other Stories wide brim hat  £29

When you're wearing head to toe black or grey, the hat's got to stand out. This one's only £29 but looks expensive despite its affordable price tag.

10. New Balance 420 sneakers   £65

I've worn my red New Balance sneakers to the ground but they're still my favorites. I hate jogging per se but these New Balance 420 sneakers make feel like I'm running on air. They're fabulously trendy and comfortable. What's not to like? 

Isabel Marant Dicker Alternative Review

I've always been a firm believer in splashing out for shoes and bags more than clothes. Expensive designer products equates to quality, right? Well.....that was until I happened  to stumble upon these Isabel Marant Dicker lookalikes for £65. Yup. That's nearly £300 knocked off its very hefty price tag. As always, I was late to the game. There were none in my size online. After placing half a dozen of calls to various Topshop stores, I conceded defeat.

Unbeknownst to me, Sue, my Perseverance Panda buddy (if you're a mom with primary school kids, you'll be familiar with this term) was undeterred. She called her closest Topshop store. And called. And called. And called until she managed to track down a human and reserved a pair in my size. She then drove over to the store and carefully inspect the boots until she was satisfied with the quality (it's a BIG deal if Sue gives her stamp of approval) before shipping them to me.

Just so you know......the boots were made in Spain. Bloody fantastic quality for £65. Sure, the lining isn't as refined as the Isabel Marant Dickers but overall, they're incredibly well made. A word of advice - size up because they run small and are slightly narrower (which I prefer). They're beyond comfortable and I can run in them (the usual story....running for the tube/bus/train).

Will you make a difference?

(from top to bottom) Marlene, Andrea, Keri, Daniella, Hollie, Heather and Anne.


More than a year ago, an idea started to form in my head about using both fashion and social media as a vehicle and the blog as the platform to feature a series that'll stay permanently online. The stories will be aimed to empower women and offer a source of comfort to those tackling various traumatic issues. If I said that this was an easy project to produce, I'd be lying. There were many moments when I doubted myself. Persuading fellow bloggers to bare their soul online? How will I offer a sanctuary for survivors to share their inspirational stories safely? Will I be able to bear the cost of financing the project myself? Many gave their time freely. I will be forever grateful to both Lucian and Adrianan Paraian of Adrienne Photography.

In a commercially driven world where success is measured by revenue and statistics, would a project highlighting weighty social issues and offering hope but going against the grain of the mainstream current be accepted in the blogging playing field? When social media is used for mainly self promotion and sharing, can it not be used to empower women (and men) in a different way? The majority of us go through life trying to project an ideal image even when we're battling with pretty serious issues for fear of being branded a failure. Furthermore, the pursuit of perfection and youth is largely driven by only showcasing beautiful images that'll sell. Would the Sisterhood of the Travelling Jacket fail before it would even reach out to the targeted audience?

Most of us are deeply private individuals and our blogs are merely an outlet where we cater to our frivolous side. I was a nervous wreck for months trying to write my story and the week it was published, I wanted to take cover under my duvet and never leave the safety of my flat. I can attest this holds true for all the other women who are involved in the Sisterhood series. 

Sexual attacks are such a taboo that family members and our closest friends take great lengths to avoid the topic at all costs. Not just mine but in so many others who have emailed or privately contacted me after my story was published. Little wonder because 44% of all sexual attacks happen to children under the age of 16. Pretty scary statistics when you consider 1 in 5 women is a victim of a sexual crime. Whether it's depression, post natal depression, abuse, miscarriage or the threat of being homeless, the anxiety the sufferer experiences cannot be ignored.

Perhaps one of the stories may stop a loved one from contemplating suicide (thank you to the person who emailed me) or be a comfort just to know that she's not alone, you have made a difference and change the course of her life for the better. A few days ago, I received another email in my inbox. One that made my eyes welled up with tears and touched me deeply. Grace wrote this on her blog. Another truly inspiring individual, Lucy, the founder of Heal for Life U.K recently reminded me of the story of the starfish. It may be difficult for a single individual to change the course of history but collectively, as a group, we can all make a difference. One person at a time.


p.s. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Jacket series will remain permanently online here. Or you can share the stories using the social media icons below.

Interesting reads for the weekend

The truth behind Facebook.

The sweetest love story I've ever read.

Learning to say yes the Malaysian way.

Off duty dressing with Miranda Kerr.

A special exhibition for trench coat lovers titled "From Field to Fashion", carefully curated from start to finish by a dear friend of mine is now on at The Discovery Centre in Winchester. More about it here.

20 actual responses to stupid tourist questions about Australia.

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Jacket: Anne

Photography: Marlene

I thought I was a strong person. I had gone through a tough academic path, lived alone in faraway lands in my early twenties and was told I was more mature than people my age. When I heard about depression, I thought it could never happen to me. I was a person who dealt with her problems and solved them all by herself. Essentially, I thought depression was for losers.

But depression happened anyway. Actually, it had been waiting to happen for pretty much my whole life. When faced with trauma, most children and teenagers block out the memory as a defense mechanism. Like a ticking bomb, it can resurface later in life. I went through several stages.  The first was ‘denial’. “It probably happens to everyone”. “It’s not a big deal”. I avoided it until I couldn’t. I realized that what had happened to me was wrong and the lack of support of people I trusted didn’t make things better. It came to a point where I felt the need to see a therapist because this was an issue I couldn’t solve all by myself and things were unraveling out of control. 

Then, after starting therapy, the ‘anger’ stage began. It actually made me feel powerful: I had this huge amount of energy I needed to release. Then I learned that what had happened to me as a child was worse than I had thought because I had erased some things from my memory entirely. It felt as if I was reliving it, even after 25 years. When you are attacked, your reflex is to defend yourself; however in the case of childhood trauma, you typically freeze in fear only to “awaken” later. And since you can not defend yourself anymore, you turn the hurt onto yourself. 

And thereafter, I entered the phase of ‘depression’. To give you an image, it feels like a huge tsunami traps you and suddenly makes you powerless and no longer able to grasp for air. Negative thoughts became obsessive to the point where they were defining my life and who I was. I thought of resorting to extreme measures to make them stop. I had flashbacks and there were nights where I could not sleep so I started taking strong sleeping pills. I feared the moment when I would have to change into my pyjamas because I was disgusted with my body and avoided looking in the mirror. I had no energy and couldn’t focus. When asked what I did out of my days, I did not know what to answer. (I didn’t work at the time.) I withdrew from the outside world because I had the impression that people knew something was wrong with me and it was out of the question to make friends in these conditions. Even going out for groceries and talking to a salesperson felt like an ordeal. Simply put, I could not function anymore.

I started functioning again when my therapist prescribed Prozac. I had been reluctant to take such medications but it was really a turnaround for me. The negative thoughts were no longer invasive and I resumed a more regular life. 

The New Year came around and I made a resolution that I still keep: every day I note down the pleasant things that had happened to me, even little things like a nice meal. It pushed me to take better care of myself and to realize that life is beautiful after all. I had never been into sports and I started to take bike rides throughout the city every day. It gave me a newfound confidence, a sense of wonder and challenge. It made me more aware of my body and I was surprised to find myself beautiful after having felt so disgusted with myself. I put the people who had let me down at a healthy distance and no longer felt disrespected. I started going to church for the first time in years; the sermons are still a moment I look forward to as they comfort me and push me to do good around me. A wonderful thing happened afterwards: I got plenty of job interviews and was eventually hired at a great company. 

I would have never been able to survive this whole process without therapy. It’s hard to confide in a person you barely know and there were tearful sessions, but it was necessary to open my eyes and get another perspective on things.

Today, there are still issues I need to work on but I am doing much better. My depression was not long ago and is still part of who I am but by no means does it define me entirely. Strange as it is, I feel that I came out of it a better person. I feel more relaxed and smiling because it taught me that my wellbeing is my priority. I feel more compassionate and grateful because it gave me a taste of what it’s like to hit rock bottom. My Prozac dose is gradually getting lowered, which is not always easy: negative thoughts come back to haunt me for a short while until I am stabilized. However, I am proud of myself for dealing with difficult issues instead of staying in denial.

I think I am a strong person, after all.

If you like our video and stories or believe they may help a loved one, please share them using the various social media buttons below. Thank you for your support. 

Sweaters under £120

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Last week, the temperature dipped overnight with mostly showers interspersed with sporadic sunshine. There's no denying that autumn has finally arrived. Geeeeez, I sound like the weather forecast dude on T.V. Anyways.....I'm definitely feeling the cold and surrounded by germs galore as everyone around me are coughing and sniffling away.

As I'm dragging out my sweaters, I noticed that I'm well stocked with basic Uniqlo merino jumpers  which I've worn to death. In a bid to keep my closet from dying from boredom, I decided I should ramp up my style with more textured or patterned sweaters. I bought a couple of cable knits from Mango and ASOS a couple of years ago for less than £25 and believe it or not, they hold up far better than most of my designer ones. Mango has a range of stunning 100% cotton knits with prices ranging from £19.99 (unbelievably good value for money).

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J.Crew is hitting all the right fashion notes at the moment. I've got my eye on 4 of their sweaters (in the collage). In fact, a couple of them are on backorder (good for them but bugger!). I don't mind forking out £££ for a superb quality sweater but since my high street ones are holding up so well, I'm temporarily abandoning my usual French favorites.

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Jacket: Heather

Photography: Marlene

On 12 November 2013, I stood alone our Istanbul home holding a positive pregnancy test. Hubby was away in Athens for a job interview. So I held my tummy and cried tears of joy for the bundle of joy that I never thought I wanted. Now that she (yes, she) was here, I knew I wanted her. Badly.

I called William to break the news, and he was stunned with joy. Not surprising since he'd always bugged me about having a baby. And I always told him that it wasn't time yet, because we moved our lives around the world every couple of years and bringing up a child like this was too unstable. Selfishly, I also enjoyed my life too much to want the responsibility of having someone so small and tiny depend on me for the rest of my life.
Over the next few days, I told my family over FaceTime and a close friend the news. Everyone rejoiced. They were excited about how beautiful our child would be, and how at the ripe old age of 34, it was time that I got pregnant. I started to write love letter to my baby since William wasn’t home for us to hold hands and chat the nights away.

When he got back, I was pampered like a princess and wasn't allowed to lift a finger in the house. Also because I felt really, really bad most of the time. There was even a point when I almost fainted from a sharp pain in my abdomen in the streets. I put it down to stress because it was yet another a transition point in our lives when we were due to leave Istanbul and we were preparing to pack up our things to be moved to Athens. The plan was for us to go back to Malaysia in about three weeks and stay for a whole month of rest and relaxation, and finally head to Athens in January to start our new lives. These details serve to explain why I didn't go to see a doctor yet. Our health insurance had just been cancelled, and I decided that instead of going to a random Turkish doctor (whom I had heard so many horror stories about), I'd wait till we got back to Malaysia before doing a proper check up.

The pain started getting from bad to worst. I started bleeding slightly as well. After asking around, friends and the internet said that it was normal. I wanted to believe them. And so I did.

Then on 21 November 2013, the moving company came to our house to pack up our things. Halfway through, when I went to the toilet, there was intense bleeding. At this point, I knew for sure it had to be a miscarriage. But being the stupid and stubborn person that I am, I was determined to let the movers finish their work, and told myself, if it happens, then it's meant to be and there's nothing I can do anyway. I told William, and he insisted we had to see a doctor. I agreed, but said it could wait till tomorrow.

The next day, he went off to the American Hospital nearby to get an appointment and run some errands. In the hour that he was gone, I had collapsed in the bathroom, and when he got back, he found me unconscious and soaking wet. He pulled me up and proceeded to get me to the hospital, which is a 5-minute walk from my home. It took us almost twenty minutes because I could hardly stand. For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant by seeing stars. When I could actually open my eyes, things were a blur and all I saw was whiteness and blinking stars. I no longer felt any pain. According to William, I was deathly white. 

When we arrived at the hospital, the doctor did a quick check-up and found that my abdomen was filled with blood from hemorrhage and that my left fallopian tube had ruptured. I had an ectopic pregnancy. He extracted a huge blob of blood, which I saw briefly and assumed it was my poor little baby that had gotten stuck in the wrong place. The doctor said I required immediate operation to remove my tube and stop the hemorrhaging. 
Before being wheeled into the emergency room, I heard him telling William that the operation would cost seven thousand euros and that they needed us to pay before starting the operation since we didn't have any health insurance. At the same time, he stated very simply that if I did not have the operation immediately, I would die. At this point, I lost consciousness and was vaguely aware of being pushed around in a wheelchair.

I awoke for a bit when the anesthesiologists asked if I ate anything. I still wonder why I needed anesthesia, since I didn't feel any pain at all. In fact, I just wanted them to leave me alone. I just wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the blissful, painless and light feeling of letting go. Just letting go. 

The next thing I know, I woke up as I was being wheeled back to my room. William was there and he was crying so hard. The operation had lasted almost three hours. He held me in his arms and he couldn't stop crying. I cried too, but more because he looked so sad and worried. He told me that he had run to the bank in the rain to withdraw the money for the hospital and when he got back, started placing calls to our parents to tell them what had happened. Then he paced up and down, all alone, not knowing if I was okay, not knowing if I would survive. The doctor hadn’t given him much hope because he said it was very serious, and that the hemorrhaging had gone on for too long. I felt so much pain and sadness that he had to go through all that alone, while all I had felt the entire time was this blissful floating feeling. So I held him tight, telling him, I was okay. I was alive.

Lying on my hospital bed, I FaceTimed my family and told them I was fine. I was alive. And can you believe they made us pay 7000 euros in cash before they would operate on me? Boy, was I going to enjoy my first class private room with wifi. The most expensive stay I'd ever paid for. I laughed. They laughed. I could see the relief in their eyes. I was fine. I also emailed a few friends who I was supposed to meet up for a mini farewell to tell them what happened, and that I couldn't make it, but not to worry, I was fine. I was alive. It was all good. 
The rest of the time that we were in Istanbul as I was recuperating, friends came to visit. I told them the story. Everyone said I should have gone to a doctor before. I said yes I know, I'm so stupid! I told them the story of the money. They were shocked. And we laughed about my first class room. I told them how lucky I was to have gotten there in time and how I thanked god that the bank was still open and we had the cash to pay for my life. Thank god. I'm fine. 

I hobbled around, a lot of the pain coming from the operation wounds, but also intense pain from my back because of the fall when I collapsed. But it was all good. I'm alive. I was fine.

Then we went back to Malaysia, and I was starting to feel the physical effects of the operation more and more. So I lay around a lot, enjoying being waited on hand and foot. The whole family was back together, and we enjoyed Christmas and ushered in 2014 happily. I was really, really fine.

And then we made our move to Athens officially in January. Physically, I had completely recovered, save for some yoga poses that I couldn't do because of the twinges of pain that I still felt in my spine and abdomen. And so I skipped them whilst doing my practice. But other than that, I was like new.  

I was so fine that when talking with daddy, mummy and William one day, I laughingly recounted how William was such a darling and cooked the most delicious meals for me 'the time I thought I was pregnant'. They all looked at me, stunned and speechless for a moment. Then daddy said, 'but you WERE pregnant!' Oh yeah, I was. 

Fast forward to July 2014. I've been sofa-ridden for the past 6 months. I've done a lot of traveling - back to Malaysia for three weeks in March, then Santorini, Istanbul and Paris.  Some friends have come to visit. I’ve played tour guide. I’m smiling, laughing, making conversations, functioning. But alone, I haven't been able to summon the energy to make friends or carve out a normal daily life in my new city. I can't be bothered to respond to emails or messages. I feel this melancholic sadness inside. I put it up to occupational hazards of the expat wife, where relocation displaces you, and you feel like you're alone in the world.

But this wasn't like anything I'd ever felt before. I binge to fill the emptiness. Purge to regain control. I don't sleep well. William is worried because he senses the brittleness in me, but there is nothing he can do. To stop him from worrying, I put on a brave face, smile, and say, I'm fine, baby, I'm fine. But the minute he steps out of the door, I take my place on the sofa, put on one TV series after the other and drown out the misery in my head. I pile the coffee table with chips and sticks and bread and peanut butter and fruit and I eat and eat and eat. I move only to hug the toilet bowl to throw it all back out. Then I eat again. As I do this, I scream at myself in my head. I love food. I love my body. This is bad. Why am I doing this? 

These acts make me worse. Alone, I just cry and cry. And I rage at times. What is happening? I want help, so I tell William about the bulimia, and he makes me promise him I'll stop. I say yes. But I still can't stop eating. I do, however, stop myself from throwing up. Sometimes. 

There are days when I get a wind of energy. So I go to yoga. I meditate. I do the work of Byron Katie. I pray. I smile. I write affirmations. I listen to self-help podcasts. Eckart Tolle, Jeff Foster, Katie, Oprah, they're all my new best friends. But inside I'm still a mess. 

And so I end up back on my sofa. Drowning in mindless sound. Suffocating from the food in my throat. 
I beat myself up because I have so much to be grateful for. Who am I to feel this way when so many other people have more serious problems in life? I have everything I want. I'm fine! What is wrong with me? Just snap out of it. 

And one day, it all comes to a head. I come across a random self-help image on the internet that mourned the loss of her ectopic baby. And I unravel. I curl up in a ball and heaving sobs leave my body. I'm knocked by a pain I have never felt before. It reaches out from the depths of my soul. I'm so so sorry. I never said goodbye to you properly. You were here, and you were gone. And I never said goodbye. You were real and I pretended you weren't. My little darling that I didn't want. My little darling that I wanted so bad. My little darling that I never got to see. A part of me. Gone.

And at this point of writing, I'm unraveling again. 

And this story will end abruptly because I don't know how this will turn out.

But the first step is done. Nine months after I picked up the pregnancy test and smiled, I'm finally acknowledging that I, Heather Mahi, lost my unborn baby. 

--

It’s now been more than a month since I wrote the above. Little did I know as I cried myself to bed, holding on to William for dear life, that night of nightmarish darkness was my turning point. 

I woke up feeling lighter. The days passed by with more ease and the melancholy lifted. My eating habits went back to normal. A peace settled in my heart. And with the wisdom that comes from hindsight, I thought I could end this story with some lessons I will always take with me.  

#1: You deserve to feel what you feel
I never mourned the loss of my baby because I felt like I didn’t deserve to. What with all the mothers in the world who lost their grown children, to babies who were miscarried at 8 months. What right did I have to be in mourning over an ectopic pregnancy? When I didn’t even hear her heartbeat? When I only had her for a few weeks? When I didn’t even know enough to get a check-up in the first place? 

I realize now that you can never compare yourself or your experience with anyone else. No one has more or less right to feel what they feel. Your life is yours and your journey unique. And it deserves to be celebrated or mourned with abandon. 

#2: You come first
Many women I know put other people first. We go through our whole lives trying to please our parents, friends, teachers, bosses, boyfriends, husbands and children. Trying, trying, trying and always seem to be failing. Right after coming out of the operation, and seeing the relieved faces of my husband and family that I was alive, I remember having the epiphany that all I had to do to please my loved ones was just to “BE”. That if I died, they would mourn the loss of ME. So all I had to do was BE ME.

But in the days that followed, I forgot that flash of inspiration and went back to trying again. Trying to reassure, trying to please, trying to be strong because I thought that it was what they wanted me to be. And that was where I lost myself again.

I now know from the bottom of my heart that putting your own needs above others does not make you selfish. In fact, it opens you up to more love and compassion because you get to let everyone else off the hook for your own well-being. 

#3: Everyone is different
One thing that brought me down when I was going through this were clichéd one-liners that well-meaning and loving friends said, like “don’t worry, I have a cousin/ friend/ sister/ colleague who went through the same thing and she got pregnant again very quickly after and now they have one/ two/ three/ twenty children”. 

I used to do the same when speaking to loved ones who were going through trauma in their lives: be it abuse, singledom, divorce, sickness, depression, job loss. I’ve hurried to reassure them that it’s going to be fine because X,Y and Z went through it and so you can too. 

I realize now that all they needed was a listening ear to hear their own personal, unique path. 

#4: There are no could’ve, would’ve or should’ves
I’ve learnt lessons, but right at this very moment, I don’t regret anything at all. I know that I did my best the way I knew how. Sure I could’ve healed faster, and would’ve been happier and should’ve done some things better. But if I didn’t go through these months of darkness, I wouldn’t learn that eating disorders stem from something deeper than just wanting a perfect body, I wouldn’t feel the depths of my husband’s love and compassion for me, I wouldn’t know that death does not feel scary, and I wouldn’t appreciate just how precious and fragile and special every single life is. 

Sure, I’d still have 7000€ in my bank account if I went for the check-up that I should have had in the first place, but I wouldn’t have had this humbling and painful yet supremely beautiful experience that I can now look back upon with a smile. It’s a story that I can tell you now, and it’s a story I can tell to hopefully my future children. 

After all, isn’t life but beautiful chapters woven into a book? 

Heather also blogs at Heatherifications.

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The Sisterhood of the Travelling Jacket: Hollie

Photography: Marlene

When I volunteered to take part in this project that Marlene brought together, I was wholeheartedly into it. I wanted to help and share my experiences in life so far. Then some time passed and the more I thought about it, the sicker I felt inside. I didn’t want to take part at all, and to be honest with you, right now as I sit typing this, I still kind of feel that way. The only thing pushing me is knowing that this may just help someone else. 

I didn’t expect to find this difficult, I naively thought that I would type up a few words of support and encouragement and that would be that. However that’s not the case. I guess I buried these emotions and memories far back in my head to overcome my illness at the time. I say “at the time” because I am so far removed from “that place” now that it is hard for me to share it. 

My life has moved on. I never dreamt that it would. I thought that life would always be dark and unhopeful. Few people in what I shall call my new life know the extent of how ill I was and to some degree, I wanted it to stay that way. I guess I didn’t want anyone to change their opinion of me. However, if I had read something honest when I needed it the most, it could perhaps have pushed me to being well and having hope sooner. 

My name is Hollie. Today I’m 29, married, have three children, a full time job and a cat. My life is crazy busy but in a good way. My husband and I take the children to exciting new places; we have friends, social hobbies, and are very much in love. Rewinding back to eight and a half years ago. I was a loved-up newlywed with a beautiful baby girl and another on the way. But beneath the clever façade that women who are suffering with post natal depression (PND) are able to put on, I was withdrawn and down with what I thought was the baby blues. The only social scene I interacted in was Mumsnet and that was only if I could get it to load onto my teeny tiny mobile screen. I had moved away from my hometown and knew very few people, so the only support network was my mum or husband on the other end of the phone. I would force myself to attend baby groups, some miles from home but I would rarely revisit the same one, making me even more isolated. 

When baby girl number 2 arrived, due to complications after her birth I didn’t bond with her straight away like I did with baby girl number 1. This is something that even now, as I sit here typing upsets me greatly. From that point on, as I adjusted to life with two, no matter how busy I made myself, I still struggled. That, and with huge financial pressure, plus moving, being burgled and moving again was what broke the camel’s back. 

If you are reading this now and are “struggling” you’ll perhaps understand me when I say that I couldn’t explain myself very well.  It was like this dark grey cloud was slowly suffocating me and no amount of busying myself could force it away. 

Eventually I couldn’t work and became further withdrawn. This next part will be sketchy, because a lot of what happened in this time is still a blur. I was always on edge, tearful, addicted to eBay and chatting online to mums. My husband watched helplessly as the woman he fell in love with was fast evaporating before his eyes. It was only when he quite literally picked up a distraught and suicidal me off the kitchen floor that my road to recovery started. He took me straight to the GP, who was amazing. We were there well after closing and I remember feeling terrified that I was going to be seen as a unfit mother and my children would be taken away. 

It was around this time when the medication started and this is when things got even hazier. It was a few more weeks before the medication kicked in and the best way I can describe how they made me feel was “numb”. Over time, my medication changed. I hit the limit on one and had to switch to another that was so strong I could only take it at night due to the hallucinations I would sometimes get before falling asleep. I started becoming irrational and would argue left, right and centre for no reason or not talk at all. Quite often not at all. The anxiety was ridiculous, and I hit an all-time low when I was attacked by a group of teenage girls whilst walking my daughters home from nursery. The police took us home and after that day I was terrified even if just to answer the door. 

My husband took redundancy so he could care for us, as quite honestly, I was useless. Even though I would sleep, I was constantly tired. I would wake up feeling like it was just lost hours and that I hadn’t slept at all. I was short with the girls and would say hurtful things I didn’t mean to those I loved. I attended therapy sessions and felt they were pointless and that I wasn’t understood. Although now as I look back I know they spoke sense and I often will remember the fight or flight theory. My community health nurse referred my husband and I for therapy together and this was the most refreshing thing to have come out of the whole mess. We looked forward to it - which according to our therapist was rare and I think it further shows the bond we had. It was there that I realised I was being selfish and that I had to show my husband I still cared. It helped him to understand me a bit better too.

I can’t give you a defining moment when suddenly everything was ok. It took a lot of work and self-progress, I had to learn that there was no perfect life and the expectations that I put on my own (self and life) were unrealistic. People have sometimes asked if it was the tablets that made me better. I don’t believe it was. What pulled me together was the faith and patience that my husband invested in me, and the love that my girls showed me. That and the willingness to get better.

Eventually the fog lifted and I began to believe my husband when he said that we would see the other side. Things began to seem possible again and I started to laugh with my babies instead of cry. I eventually was weaned off my medication. One thing that did feel like a switch for me was when I found out I was carrying my baby boy. Although we had lost a lot and had such hard work ahead of us, I realised that I have such an incredible family unit and this is what it is really all about. 

We have had a hard slog but we are now in such a different place that everything from the past doesn’t seem real. These days, when I stress or panic over silly things, my husband will smile and remind me of how far we’ve come. So if I were to give any advice to anyone, whether you are that person suffering or watching the person you love suffer, it would be that you have to be patient. You need trust, hope, love and patience. If you have that, you will have courage, strength and healing. 

Hollie also blogs at Mummy wife and chaos.

If you like our video and stories or believe they may help a loved one, please share them using the various social media buttons below. Thank you for your support.