At a sports club in Camp 19, children aged between six and 15 gather to watch recorded World Cup matches on a large screen after live broadcasts were restricted in the camps over security concerns, according to the organisation running the programme.

The club, operated by the Friendship nongovernmental organisation, has created a space where children can follow their favourite teams and players while participating in football and other sporting activities.

“Girls make up around one-third of the audience,” said Molla Shihab Uddin, senior coordinator at Friendship, adding that the centre records matches and screens them the following morning.

The sports programme also provides equipment through a mobile sports library, allowing children to borrow jerseys and participate in local games inside the refugee settlements.

The Rohingya, a predominantly Muslim ethnic minority from Myanmar’s Rakhine state, have faced decades of displacement and restrictions, with hundreds of thousands fleeing to Bangladesh following a military crackdown in 2017.

Around 1.3 million Rohingya refugees currently live in 33 camps in Cox’s Bazar, where access to formal education, employment and recreational opportunities remains limited.

The Camp 19 sports club was launched in 2021 in partnership with Dutch organisation KLABU, with support from French football club Paris Saint-Germain, to promote physical and mental well-being among refugee children.

The centre now has about 1,600 regular child members, including 600 girls, who take part in football, cricket, volleyball and other activities.

Uddin said sport helps children maintain confidence and resilience in an environment where uncertainty over their future remains a major challenge.

As concerns over excessive smartphone use continue to grow, consumers are increasingly turning to a range of digital and physical tools designed to reduce screen time and limit access to distracting applications.

The market for digital wellbeing products has expanded in recent years as smartphone users seek practical ways to manage habits associated with social media platforms and other highly engaging mobile applications.

Many of these solutions are built around the idea that reducing phone usage requires more than awareness alone and often depends on creating barriers that interrupt habitual behaviour.

One of the simplest approaches relies on a low-tech solution: placing a rubber band around a smartphone. While rudimentary, proponents argue that the added friction can serve as a reminder to use the device more intentionally.

The method has gained attention among individuals seeking inexpensive ways to discourage reflexive phone checking without relying on additional technology.Other users have embraced software-based interventions.

A growing category of applications is designed specifically to help people reduce dependence on their devices by employing many of the same behavioural techniques used by social media platforms to encourage engagement.

These tools typically incorporate reminders, progress tracking, rewards and other forms of gamification intended to reinforce periods of reduced screen use.Among the products attracting attention are BePresent and ScreenZen.

BePresent offers a range of usage-control features through a subscription model, while ScreenZen operates on a donation-based system and allows users to access its core functionality without charge. Both applications are designed to help users create barriers between themselves and frequently used apps, while providing incentives to maintain healthier digital habits.

Developers of such tools argue that technology itself can be used to counteract problematic usage patterns. By rewarding periods of abstinence and making access to distracting applications less immediate, they aim to reshape behaviour over time.

A separate category of products seeks to move beyond software restrictions by introducing a physical element into the process. One example is Brick, a small plastic tile that acts as a gateway to selected smartphone applications.

The device attaches magnetically to metal surfaces such as refrigerators, doors or other household fixtures. Users can tap the tile to lock designated applications and tap it again to restore access. While the smartphone remains fully operational for most functions, selected apps become inaccessible until the user physically returns to the Brick device to unlock them.

Supporters of the approach argue that physical separation addresses one of the main weaknesses of software-only restrictions. Applications that are deleted can often be reinstalled within seconds, while digital blockers may be disabled with minimal effort.

Introducing a physical step creates an additional layer of inconvenience that can discourage impulsive behaviour.The concept is rooted in behavioural psychology, which suggests that even small increases in effort can significantly reduce the likelihood of habitual actions.

By requiring users to move to a different location before regaining access to distracting applications, products such as Brick attempt to exploit natural tendencies toward convenience and inertia.Advocates say the effectiveness of these tools lies not in making access impossible but in making it less immediate.

Users remain free to access social media platforms or other restricted applications whenever necessary, but the added effort creates a moment of reflection before the action is completed.

The growing popularity of both software and hardware solutions highlights broader concerns surrounding digital wellbeing.

As smartphones continue to play an increasingly central role in daily life, consumers are experimenting with a variety of strategies aimed at regaining control over their attention and reducing the impact of constant connectivity.

A brief line in a television drama has highlighted the emotional realities faced by families living with dementia, capturing a moment of recognition that many relatives describe as increasingly rare and deeply significant.

In a scene from the television series Rivals, the character Charles Fairburn tells Gerald, “Mother knew me this morning.” The remark is delivered simply, yet it reflects a central challenge experienced by families affected by cognitive decline: maintaining connections with loved ones as memory and recognition become increasingly uncertain.

The observation resonated strongly with one viewer caring for a mother living with dementia. According to the account, the mother’s ability to recognize people remains largely intact when it comes to close family members and individuals she has known throughout her life.

However, people introduced more recently, including carers who visit daily, often need to reintroduce themselves during each encounter.The viewer interpreted Charles Fairburn’s statement as suggesting that his fictional mother may have reached a more advanced stage of dementia.

What stood out was not the medical condition itself but the visible relief and happiness associated with a moment of recognition. The scene illustrated how a simple acknowledgement from a parent can carry substantial emotional weight for an adult child.For families affected by dementia, everyday interactions frequently become efforts to preserve connection.

Conversations that once occurred naturally may require patience, repetition and adaptation. Familiar routines, shared observations and longstanding family relationships can become important ways of maintaining engagement.

According to the account, interactions with the viewer’s mother often involve attempts to recreate ordinary moments that previously defined family life. These include discussing family events, sharing reactions to household experiences and recalling familiar relationships.

Small exchanges that might once have been taken for granted can acquire greater significance when cognitive decline affects communication and memory.The account describes efforts to involve the mother in discussions about family members, including a spouse and grandchildren, as well as activities such as painting together.

Physical gestures and caregiving habits that previously formed part of the parent-child relationship also remain important. These include expressions of concern, practical advice and affectionate interactions that reinforce emotional continuity despite the effects of dementia.

The experience outlined in the account suggests that moments of successful connection can influence emotional wellbeing beyond the immediate interaction. When communication feels familiar or meaningful, the viewer reports experiencing a greater sense of ease and optimism.

Positive encounters appear to affect family life more broadly, shaping mood and interactions throughout the remainder of the day.Conversely, the absence of those moments can have a noticeable emotional impact.

The uncertainty associated with dementia often means that meaningful engagement cannot be predicted or guaranteed. As a result, family members may find themselves closely attuned to signs of recognition, responsiveness or affection.The scene from Rivals prompted reflection on the extent to which the viewer’s own happiness remains linked to a parent’s condition.

The character’s brief statement encapsulated an experience that many caregivers and relatives may recognize: the importance of being remembered, acknowledged and understood by someone whose cognitive abilities are changing.

The account does not present a solution to the challenges posed by dementia, nor does it suggest that television dramas can resolve the emotional complexities associated with the condition. Instead, it highlights the value of representation.

By depicting a familiar but often understated experience, the programme provided recognition of the realities faced by adult children whose parents are gradually losing memories and aspects of their former identities.Whether future episodes of Rivals continue the storyline remains uncertain.

For the viewer, however, the significance of the scene lay in its concise portrayal of a recurring experience. The moment captured both the pain associated with cognitive decline and the importance of occasional reconnection, illustrating how a brief instance of recognition can become one of the most meaningful events in the daily life of a family affected by dementia.

A growing number of women, healthcare professionals and advocates are calling for greater awareness and research into Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), a severe hormone-related condition that can have profound effects on mental health, family relationships and quality of life but remains widely underdiagnosed and poorly understood.

Current research indicates that PMDD affects up to one in 20 women of reproductive age. Despite its prevalence, only about 1.6% of affected individuals receive a formal diagnosis. The consequences can be severe. Research cited in the source material indicates that approximately one-third of those diagnosed with PMDD have attempted suicide, underscoring the condition’s significant mental health burden.

PMDD is characterized by severe emotional, psychological and physical symptoms that occur during the luteal phase of the menstrual cycle, typically in the days before menstruation. However, many patients report years of confusion, misdiagnosis and ineffective treatment before receiving appropriate care.

Limited awareness within the medical community has contributed to delayed diagnosis and treatment, according to patients and healthcare professionals interviewed about their experiences. The condition remains unfamiliar to many clinicians despite its potentially debilitating effects.

The lack of understanding extends beyond clinical diagnosis. Relatively little is known about how PMDD affects family dynamics, particularly relationships between mothers and their children. In response to these gaps, the United Kingdom has recently seen the establishment of its first charity dedicated exclusively to supporting individuals with PMDD and their families.

For families living with the condition, the impact can extend far beyond the individual experiencing symptoms.Daly, now 37, recalls growing up in a household affected by her mother’s undiagnosed PMDD. She remembers frequent and intense arguments between her parents before treatment became available.

“I’d feel sad because she’d be crying – I hated seeing her so upset,” Daly said.Reflecting on her childhood, Daly described periods when her mother’s behavior was difficult to understand.“Mum was hard work at points. I’d sometimes overhear her shouting at Dad and think, this is unfair,” she said.

For many women diagnosed later in life, understanding the source of recurring emotional distress can bring both relief and regret. Barker, another woman living with PMDD, described years of struggling with symptoms that affected her relationships and self-perception.“I’d say nasty things, and felt unable to stop, then afterwards think: that was awful,” Barker said.

She described a recurring cycle in which episodes of anger and emotional instability were followed by periods of remorse, depression and repeated apologies.“Then the tears and depression came, I’d spend a week apologising – then it’d start all over,” she said.

Barker’s experience also highlights the connection between PMDD and serious mental health challenges. Visible reminders of that period remain part of her daily life.

Tattoos now cover self-harm scars from some of the most difficult years of her illness.A significant turning point came when consultant gynecologist Professor John Studd introduced her to treatment involving oestrogen implants. According to Barker, the results were immediate and transformative.“It was the only thing that worked – my symptoms disappeared,” she said.

However, access to treatment proved challenging. Barker said the National Health Service declined to fund the therapy because PMDD was classified as a syndrome rather than a disease, affecting eligibility for coverage.Determined to continue treatment, she contacted physicians, elected officials and healthcare providers while relocating from Hampshire to Edinburgh.

The process ultimately required substantial personal financial investment.“I ended up paying £600 every six months to travel to London and get a new implant fitted at my own expense,” Barker said.Despite the costs, she described the treatment as indispensable.“Life on the oestrogen implant was heaven,” she said.

At one point, Barker said her daughter loaned her £1,000 to help finance continued treatment after her own financial resources became strained.Even after finding an effective medical intervention, Barker said she remained concerned about the effect PMDD had already had on her children.

“I worried I’d ruined my relationship with my kids,” she said.She believes receiving treatment before her children reached adolescence helped prevent further difficulties, but she remains conscious of the years lost to managing symptoms.“I was lucky to get treatment before their teens.

But as younger kids, they grew up around me, not with me,” she said. “I was on the outside looking in, trying to manage and hide my symptoms. They bore the brunt.”According to Barker, successful treatment allowed her to reconnect emotionally with her family in ways that had previously been difficult.She said it enabled her “to feel the love and joy from spending time with the kids which PMDD had stolen.”The lack of awareness surrounding PMDD is not limited to patients.

Healthcare professionals themselves can experience the condition without recognizing it.Dr. Milli Raizada, a general practitioner and specialist in women’s health, said she had never heard of PMDD before being diagnosed with it six years ago, despite years of medical training and clinical experience.Now 40, Raizada said the diagnosis exposed significant shortcomings in professional education regarding women’s health conditions.

She described feeling disappointed that a condition affecting so many women remained largely absent from medical training.“Too many doctors, myself included, don’t have the knowledge to help women who suffer in silence,” she said.Raizada argues that improvements in medical education and research are essential if diagnosis and treatment rates are to improve.“Better training. More research.

Stop sidelining women’s health,” she said.Her own symptoms emerged after discontinuing oral contraceptive medication. According to Raizada, changes became apparent during the luteal phase of her menstrual cycle, when emotional and psychological symptoms intensified.“In the luteal phase, I’d be arguing lots with him and he said, ‘This isn’t normal’,” she said, referring to observations made by her husband.

Raizada described a sharp contrast between her usual personality and the symptoms she experienced during affected periods.“I’m usually resilient and a multitasker but I suddenly had impostor syndrome, felt overwhelmed and worthless, and was hypersensitive and apathetic for two weeks of the month,” she said.

The turning point came after an unusually intense reaction to a routine family interaction.“After flying off the handle at my mother-in-law over a throwaway comment, I knew it was time to act,” Raizada said.For advocates and patients, such experiences illustrate the urgent need for greater recognition of PMDD within healthcare systems.

Despite affecting millions of women globally, the condition continues to be characterized by delayed diagnoses, inconsistent treatment access and limited research, leaving many patients to navigate years of symptoms before obtaining effective care.

Writer Jasper Peach says the concept of body neutrality provided a framework for challenging decades of shame and social judgment linked to body size, offering an alternative to both traditional weight-focused narratives and the more recent body positivity movement.

Writing about personal experiences spanning childhood to parenthood, Peach described growing up in an environment where body size was frequently treated as a measure of social value. Born in 1981, Peach recalled that being a large baby was initially viewed positively but said attitudes changed as childhood progressed.

According to the author, comments from peers and adults conveyed the message that larger bodies occupied a lower position in social hierarchies.One childhood incident remained particularly significant. At the age of seven, Peach asked to join a skipping game after helping turn the rope for other children.

Another child responded that participation was not possible because Peach was “too fat to skip.” The episode, Peach wrote, reflected broader social attitudes that children absorb from adults and reproduce among their peers.The author argued that these experiences were not isolated. Peach said classmates appeared to learn from adults which physical characteristics were acceptable and which were not.

Even family conversations reinforced those messages. Peach recalled a discussion with a parent who warned that body size could negatively affect personal relationships, employment prospects and social trust. While the statement was intended as guidance, Peach said it reflected assumptions that had already become familiar.As a result, Peach developed strategies aimed at offsetting negative perceptions.

Academic achievement and humor became tools for social acceptance. The author described growing up during a period shaped by influential diet programs, exercise trends and narrow beauty standards. During that era, expectations around appearance often differed by gender and were frequently contradictory, with ideals presented as both highly specific and difficult to attain.

Peach also referred to the widespread use of body mass index, or BMI, as a benchmark for assessing weight and health. The author characterized the metric as flawed and criticized its historical use in discussions of body size and personal worth. More broadly, Peach argued that appearance was often framed as evidence of individual discipline or failure, reinforcing feelings of inadequacy among those who did not conform to prevailing standards.

By adulthood, Peach said those experiences had accumulated into a longstanding sense of stigma. The emergence of the body positivity movement in mainstream culture during the 2010s therefore represented a significant shift. Although the broader fat acceptance movement had existed for decades, Peach said body positivity brought discussions about body diversity to a wider audience.

According to the author, body positivity challenged assumptions that people should be judged according to size, appearance, ability or skin tone. For individuals who had spent years encountering criticism or exclusion, the movement offered an alternative framework that emphasized respect and acceptance. Peach described this period as a relief from earlier experiences in which larger bodies were routinely treated as evidence of personal failure.

However, Peach argued that the movement changed as commercial interests adopted its language and imagery. The author contended that advertising campaigns increasingly incorporated body-positive messaging while continuing to favor conventionally attractive and heavily edited representations. In that process, Peach said, some of the people whose experiences had initially driven the movement became less visible.

It was against that backdrop that Peach encountered body neutrality, a concept that places less emphasis on appearance altogether. Rather than encouraging people to love every aspect of their bodies, body neutrality focuses on describing the body without attaching moral judgments or value assessments.Peach summarized the approach through straightforward observation.

Saying that a body is fat, the author argued, is no different from describing grass as green or a disco ball as shiny. Such descriptions identify characteristics without assigning positive or negative meaning. Under this framework, body size becomes a fact rather than a reflection of character.

The author compared the concept to responding to cold weather. A person who feels cold and puts on a jumper is generally not praised or criticized for doing so. The action addresses a practical need rather than carrying moral significance. Peach said body neutrality applies the same logic to discussions of size, food and physical comfort.

This perspective also aligned with Peach’s experience as an autistic person. The author said literal interpretations of language made it easier to adopt an approach grounded in observable facts rather than social assumptions. Looking back, Peach concluded that many negative judgments directed at larger bodies were rooted in cultural beliefs rather than objective truths.

The shift in thinking later informed a children’s book focused on body neutrality. During the writing process, Peach consulted several people, including scientist and author Emma Beckett. According to Peach, Beckett described how siblings raised in the same household, with comparable diets and levels of physical activity, developed different body shapes and sizes.

Peach said those discussions reinforced the understanding that body size is influenced by multiple factors. Genetics, environment and economic circumstances all play a role, making simplistic explanations based solely on willpower inadequate. The author argued that reducing body size to personal self-control overlooks the complexity of human development and health.

Those ideas have also influenced parenting practices within Peach’s household. The author said conversations with children aim to use neutral language rather than either overt praise or shame related to physical appearance. Bodies are described in the same manner as other observable features in everyday life.

Peach provided an example involving a discussion with a nine-year-old child who asked whether bodies change and become larger as people grow older. In response, Peach explained that bodies develop according to their own patterns and that human wellbeing is shaped by a range of influences, including feelings of safety and happiness alongside nutrition and movement.

The author described a later interaction in which the child commented affectionately on Peach’s upper arms, describing them as comfortable for cuddling. What stood out to Peach was the absence of judgment. The observation was presented simply as a statement about comfort and connection rather than appearance.

For Peach, that exchange illustrated the possibility of approaching bodies without attaching assumptions about virtue, discipline or worth. The author argued that exposure to body neutrality during childhood could have reduced years of self-criticism and helped challenge the belief that body size reflects personal weakness or failure.

Reflecting on experiences across several decades, Peach said body neutrality offered a way to separate physical characteristics from moral evaluation. Rather than requiring admiration or condemnation, the approach treats bodies as realities to be acknowledged, understood and accommodated within everyday life.

Actor Hannah Murray has offered a deeply personal account of psychosis, involuntary psychiatric treatment and the breakdown of her sense of reality in a forthcoming memoir, describing a period in which she believed she possessed supernatural abilities and played a central role in humanity’s salvation.

In an extract from her memoir, The Make-Believe: A Memoir of Magic and Madness, Murray recounts her experiences while undergoing a severe mental health crisis that ultimately led to her being detained under the UK’s Mental Health Act.

The actor, widely known for portraying Gilly in the television series Game of Thrones, describes a state in which ordinary events were interpreted through an elaborate belief system involving magic, destiny and spiritual transformation.

According to the memoir extract, Murray believed she had become a “Ritual Master” and viewed routine interactions within a hospital setting as part of a larger supernatural narrative. Medical staff, patients and family members were assigned symbolic roles within a reality she perceived as fundamentally altered.

She recounts being brought food and drink by a healthcare worker but refusing to eat, believing instead that she no longer required conventional nourishment. During this period, she writes that she considered herself entirely self-sufficient and capable of surviving through spiritual energy rather than physical needs.

As her condition intensified, Murray describes wandering hospital corridors while waiting for what she believed would be the arrival of an important figure connected to her perceived mission. She interpreted events around her through the lens of a complex belief system that blended personal experiences, spirituality, popular culture and fantasy.

One of the most emotionally significant moments in the account involves a phone call from her mother. Murray writes that when she first heard her mother’s distressed voice, she viewed the conversation not as a family member trying to reach her, but as part of a test designed to pull her back into ordinary reality.

She recalls ending the first call before answering again when her mother phoned back. During the second conversation, Murray attempted to reassure her that she was safe and believed she was in a positive place despite the growing concerns of those around her.

The memoir describes how medical professionals informed her that she was being sectioned under the Mental Health Act, a legal process that allows individuals experiencing severe mental illness to be detained and assessed when they may pose risks to themselves or are unable to recognise their condition.

At the time, however, Murray writes that the information had little impact because it did not fit within the reality she believed she was experiencing. References to legal procedures, assessment periods and patient rights appeared disconnected from the worldview that had taken hold during her psychosis.

Instead, she says she remained focused on what she perceived as powerful energies moving through her body and voices that reinforced her convictions. Throughout the episode, Murray believed she possessed extraordinary abilities and unlimited creative powers.

The actor describes pacing hospital corridors while delivering what she considered a profound performance, convinced she was simultaneously a magician, actor, writer and spiritual guide.

She believed she could perform any conceivable action and viewed herself as possessing superhuman capabilities.The memoir further details grandiose beliefs commonly associated with psychotic episodes. Murray writes that she became convinced she had prevented an apocalypse and served as a central figure in humanity’s future.

She interpreted cultural references, films and professional experiences as evidence supporting those conclusions.Among those interpretations was her belief that a 2016 film, The Girl with All the Gifts, contained messages connected to her perceived role in world events.

She viewed the title itself as a reflection of her identity during the episode.Murray also writes that her acting career took on symbolic significance within the delusional framework. Professional collaborations and casting decisions were reimagined as part of a larger cosmic narrative.

She came to believe that her work in television and film had been preparing her for a destiny connected to the survival and transformation of the world.The account illustrates how psychosis can fundamentally alter a person’s perception of reality, leading ordinary experiences to acquire extraordinary meanings.

Mental health specialists often describe psychosis as a condition in which individuals may experience delusions, hallucinations or disordered thinking that make it difficult to distinguish between subjective beliefs and external reality.Murray’s memoir presents those experiences from her own perspective, allowing readers to follow the internal logic that shaped her thinking during the crisis.

Rather than reflecting on the events solely through hindsight, the narrative recreates the certainty with which she held those beliefs at the time.The extract forms part of a broader memoir examining Murray’s experiences with mental illness, recovery and identity.

By documenting her psychotic episode in detail, she offers an account of how severe mental health conditions can affect perception, relationships and decision-making.The book is scheduled for publication by Cornerstone and explores both the onset of Murray’s illness and the process of understanding what happened after the crisis ended.

The actor is also due to discuss the memoir publicly during an event in London alongside Jessie Cave.For Murray, the memoir represents an effort to chronicle a period in which reality itself became unstable, transforming familiar people, places and experiences into elements of a narrative that felt entirely real at the time but was ultimately shaped by psychosis.

Three women who helped secure the conviction of a London man for historic sexual offences say the bond they formed during the legal process has become central to their recovery, as growing numbers of survivors of sexual violence choose to waive anonymity and speak publicly about their experiences.

Laura Hughes, Lauren Preston and Mary Sharp, now in their 40s and 50s, describe themselves collectively as “the girls,” a term they say reflects the close emotional support network that emerged after years of trauma connected to the same abuser, Martin Butler.

The women, who maintain regular contact through a WhatsApp group called Sister Solidarity, said their friendship developed after Butler was convicted for offences committed decades earlier.Martin Butler is serving a lengthy prison sentence after being convicted of the rape and buggery of Mary Sharp in 1988.

During the prosecution, Hughes and Preston provided evidence about separate abuse they said they experienced from Butler during the 1990s. Butler was later convicted in another trial involving the historic rape of an unidentified teenage victim.According to the women, Butler operated within the same community in Ruislip, where Hughes and Preston grew up and attended school together.

Sharp also lived in the area, although she did not know the other two women at the time.The women said Butler, who was significantly older than Hughes and Preston when they were teenagers, cultivated influence over vulnerable young people through parties involving alcohol and drugs at his apartment.

In 2023, the women met for the first time after Butler’s conviction in the case involving Sharp. Their decision to speak publicly later drew wider attention and became the basis for a documentary examining the long-term effects of abuse and the role of survivor solidarity.

The women’s experiences come amid broader public discussion around sexual violence and survivor testimony. In recent years, more survivors have chosen to identify themselves publicly, arguing that open discussion can challenge stigma surrounding rape cases.

Gisèle Pelicot, whose case in France drew international attention after she publicly discussed repeated drug-facilitated sexual assaults, said she hoped removing anonymity would help shift social attitudes around shame and victimhood.

Hughes, Preston and Sharp said that while Butler’s conviction represented a significant moment, the process of recovery remained difficult and uneven. All three described ongoing emotional effects linked to the abuse and the court proceedings.

“We would never allow a man to use the word ‘girls’ about us, but we use it with each other,” Hughes said. “We all have the same demon, the same monster, but we are rising together.”

The women said public exposure and revisiting traumatic experiences during legal proceedings carried emotional costs. Preston said that speaking publicly initially intensified anxiety and distress.“For about a year, I went backwards,” she said.

“I started to really suffer from anxiety.”Sharp said the psychological effects of the abuse and subsequent legal process continue to surface periodically despite the support system the women have built together.“We are not out of the woods,” Sharp said.

“I do still have wobbly moments.”Mental health specialists and victim support groups have long noted that recovery from sexual violence can involve prolonged psychological impacts, even after successful prosecutions.

Survivors may continue to experience anxiety, trauma responses and emotional distress long after court proceedings conclude.The three women said mutual support has become one of the most important factors in rebuilding confidence and stability.“I feel like I have freed my childhood self,” Hughes said.

“I can look myself in the eye now, almost as if I have become my own parent.”She added that trauma remained a permanent part of her life experience but said shared understanding among the women had changed how she copes with it.“Someone said that pain is a skin you can’t take off,” Hughes said.

“I feel that’s true with me and my trauma. But having the girls helps me cope with living in that skin and getting stronger within it.”Preston said the court proceedings and subsequent documentary project altered how she viewed herself publicly and privately.

“Everything that has happened, the court case, the documentary, it does make me hold my head up higher,” she said. “I couldn’t have done any of this by myself.

The girls give me strength.”Sharp described the friendship as an enduring emotional responsibility shared among the three women.

“I feel stronger now,” she said. “I wouldn’t do anything to upset my girls. They are part of me now.”

For years, she wanted a child. After a decade of waiting, hope and uncertainty, pregnancy finally arrived carrying both joy and fear in equal measure. What followed, however, was not the soft, instinctive transition into motherhood that culture often promises, but a physically traumatic birth, emotional numbness and a long struggle to recognise herself in her new life.

During pregnancy, she found herself largely alone. Her husband, though supportive and loving, was frequently absent, consumed by the demands of a startup consultancy he had recently founded with two academic partners.

Medical appointments, including an amniocentesis prompted by concerns over possible chromosomal abnormalities, were often faced without him because he was abroad for work.

She attended prenatal classes, but support systems felt limited. Only one person in her close circle had children, and her relationship with her own mother, who lived in Italy, was strained. The isolation deepened her anxiety, particularly because childbirth itself frightened her.

When she raised those fears with her general practitioner, she recalls receiving a familiar reassurance that did little to ease them.“Don’t worry, birth isn’t an illness,” her male GP told her. “It’s all perfectly natural.”She felt the dismissal ignored her lived reality. She was asthmatic and suffering from undiagnosed endometriosis that caused severe pain every few weeks.

Pregnancy did not feel simple or natural. It felt uncertain and medically significant.Still, she felt deeply connected to the child growing inside her. She recognised her daughter through movement alone—the shape of limbs pressing against skin, strong kicks in response to passing sirens, a physical presence both strange and intimate.

She imagined a temperament already forming: long legs like her father, a temper like her own.She expected love to be immediate. After waiting so long, how could it not be?Her due date passed. Then another week.

Then another. At more than 44 weeks pregnant, she says she had to insist repeatedly before her GP agreed to induction. Only when hospital monitoring showed signs of fetal distress did medical staff finally intervene and break her waters.

Labour lasted 20 hours.

She describes induced labour not as a gradual progression but as a sudden collapse into nausea, pain and exhaustion. Hours passed with no progress. She was unable to receive an epidural at first because she was not dilating. The pain became all-consuming.

At one point, fearing the worst, she asked her husband to make a promise: if doctors had to choose between saving her life and their child’s, he should choose the baby.“I am not going to lose either of you,” he replied.

She remembers University College Hospital at the time as a place that inspired little confidence—a crumbling Victorian building with filthy bathrooms, blood on the floors and junior doctors exhausted by punishing shifts. Around her, the maternity ward echoed with the sounds of women in labour: groans, cries, gasps and fear.Eventually she received an epidural, but the baby remained stuck.

Just before midnight, an emergency forceps delivery and episiotomy were performed. Her husband later told her there were 13 people in the room.Then their daughter arrived.She weighed just under 4.5 kilograms—almost 10 pounds.

The mother had lost so much blood that the experience felt, in her words, like surviving a car crash. Her husband, standing in blood-soaked jeans, was overwhelmed with joy.“Isn’t she wonderful?” he said.She felt nothing.

She describes the absence of emotion not as rejection, but as total numbness, as though the epidural that had numbed her body had also severed access to feeling. She spent the night awake in the recovery ward waiting for the expected rush of maternal love that never came, listening to other women crying as anaesthesia wore off.

Instead, she felt transported back to boarding school dormitories, where she had learned early to suppress everything except anger.“Rage has served me quite often as a stimulant against exhaustion,” she writes. “Every woman who goes through childbirth has, I believe, been through the equivalent of war.

”She compares childbirth to trauma rather than celebration, arguing that many women leave the experience carrying symptoms closer to post-traumatic stress than to joy.

She believes poor maternity care intensified that reality.Her experience took place during years of severe strain on Britain’s National Health Service, when long-term underfunding and overstretched staff affected standards of care.

But she also sees a broader cultural issue: motherhood itself, she argues, is often insufficiently respected.At the time, general practice and obstetrics were still dominated by men.

She does not argue that male doctors cannot provide excellent care, but believes many failed to understand how dangerous childbirth could still be, or how often women’s pain was normalised rather than addressed.She was discharged the next day after a blood transfusion and severe physical trauma. She could barely walk.

Her husband worried about her physical recovery, but neither of them recognised the mental damage taking shape beneath it.When the baby began crying—night after night, almost without pause motherhood became a contest between exhaustion and fury.

“Once our baby began to cry relentlessly every night, all night, it felt like a battle between my rage and hers,” she recalls.Then one day, something changed.Her daughter, whose eyes had until then seemed distant and unfocused, suddenly looked directly at her. Then came a smile—clear, unmistakable and full.It was not simply recognition. It felt like acceptance.

“She seemed not only to recognise me, but to greet me with unconditional love and delight,” she writes.She understood intellectually that infant smiles are biological survival mechanisms, but the emotional impact was overwhelming.

The joy felt so sharp it was almost painful.“Oh!” she remembers saying. “It’s you. It’s you.”That first smile altered everything.The sleepless nights did not disappear. The crying continued. But something fundamental shifted in her understanding of motherhood, of love and even of her own mother.

Her relationship with her mother, long marked by pain and distance, softened. She began to understand her mother’s own unresolved grief and emotional absences not simply as cruelty, but as the result of childhood bereavement and wounds never healed.Motherhood brought not only responsibility, but perspective.

As a writer, she found that literature had offered little preparation for the reality of childbirth. Victorian novels she loved moved quickly past pregnancy and motherhood, treating them as narrative transitions rather than lived experiences.

Even contemporary women writers often avoided describing the devastation of birth itself.When she included the physical brutality of childbirth in her 1996 novel A Vicious Circle, critics attacked what one reviewer called “revolting details.”

Yet she says she had still softened the truth, giving her fictional heroine an instant maternal bond she herself had not felt.Years later, much changed. Hospitals improved. Her GP practice became staffed by younger, mostly women doctors. She had a second child, a son, whose birth was entirely different and with whom she bonded immediately.

Her daughter, Leon, grew into a novelist herself—healthy, loving and brilliant.Looking back, she says motherhood brought both unimaginable suffering and extraordinary love.

Public conversation often reduces it to either sentimental joy or unbearable hardship. The truth, she argues, is both.And if the early days felt like darkness, what remained was not the trauma alone, but the light that followed.

The UNICEF Executive Board concluded its first regular session of 2026 with a warning that decades of progress in child survival could be reversed as funding constraints, conflict and systemic pressures weaken global health systems, according to statements delivered during the meeting.

The two-and-a-half day session reviewed a range of institutional priorities, including implementation of the United Nations’ UN80 reform initiative, UNICEF’s global evaluation plan for 2026–2029, and updates on the work of national committees engaged in fundraising and youth outreach. Financial oversight, programme delivery and governance issues were also examined as part of the Board’s agenda.

A central focus of the session was child health, highlighted during discussions on eight newly approved country programme documents covering Argentina, Cuba, Georgia, Malaysia, Mexico, Somalia, South Africa and Sudan. Board members and senior officials framed investment in primary healthcare as critical not only to survival outcomes but to broader human development and social stability.

Opening the session, Rein Tammsaar, President of the Board and Estonia’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations, emphasized inclusive governance as a priority for 2026. He also pointed to the potential role of artificial intelligence in expanding access to and improving the quality of education.

Tammsaar acknowledged UNICEF personnel working in high-risk environments, stating that their operational commitment underpins the organization’s credibility.In her introductory remarks, Catherine Russell cautioned that progress in reducing child mortality could stall for the first time in three decades.

She identified child and maternal health as core priorities and cited the establishment of a global Centre of Excellence in Nairobi aimed at strengthening technical capacity in health, nutrition and water, sanitation and hygiene services.Senior officials presented evidence of significant global gains, including a reduction in annual under-five deaths to below 5 million and an estimated 4.2 million child deaths prevented annually through immunization.

Maternal mortality has declined by roughly one third since 2000. However, speakers stressed that these achievements remain fragile.Douglas Noble, Associate Director of Health, said abrupt reductions in development funding are disrupting essential services and exposing structural weaknesses in health systems. He added that misinformation is undermining vaccine confidence, while conflict, climate-related shocks and economic instability are increasing displacement and limiting access to care.

Noble stated that survival alone is no longer an adequate benchmark for child development, arguing for integrated approaches that include mental health, psychosocial support and adolescent well-being alongside physical health services. He urged governments to prioritize primary healthcare in national budgets, protect health spending during fiscal pressures and invest in community-level health workers.

Panel discussions reflected concerns that setbacks are not confined to low-income countries. Participants noted declining vaccination rates in Argentina and signs of reversal in child survival indicators in South Africa. Rising mental health challenges among adolescents, including increased suicidal behaviour in Malaysia, were also highlighted.

Speakers from governments, international organizations, academia and civil society reiterated that access to healthcare should not be treated as a privilege. They stressed the need for age-appropriate services that address both communicable and noncommunicable conditions, supported by integrated systems spanning health, education and social protection.

Testimony from field representatives underscored the impact of conflict on health infrastructure. Ayoub Ibrahim Arabi Mohammed described conditions in Sudan, where ongoing violence has displaced populations and disrupted medical services. He reported shortages of fuel, medicine and basic supplies in hospitals, while some clinics have ceased operations entirely, leaving families without access to care.

He emphasized the role of frontline health workers as critical to sustaining services in conflict settings and called for their protection. He also warned that children are dying due to the inability of healthcare systems to function effectively under prolonged instability.Across discussions, a consistent theme emerged that sustaining progress in child survival requires resilient primary healthcare systems capable of withstanding external shocks.

UNICEF outlined key policy areas for governments, including strengthening primary care, restoring trust in immunization programmes, addressing underlying determinants such as malnutrition and sanitation, and integrating mental health and noncommunicable disease responses into health strategies.

Mental health featured prominently in the session, with officials noting that one in seven adolescents aged 10 to 19 is living with a mental health condition. Data presented indicated that one in four children has a caregiver experiencing mental health challenges, highlighting broader social implications.

Officials also cited global estimates suggesting that a young person dies by suicide every 11 minutes, underscoring the scale of the issue.Meylan Alejandra Ramos Espejel, speaking on behalf of young people, linked mental health challenges to wider global pressures including migration, conflict and climate-related disruptions.

She called for greater inclusion of youth perspectives in policymaking and emphasized the need for tangible support mechanisms.Noncommunicable diseases were identified as another growing concern, affecting more than 2 billion individuals under the age of 20 through direct conditions or exposure to risk factors.

Officials noted that these diseases disproportionately affect children in lower-income settings, challenging the perception that they are confined to wealthier populations.The Board also reviewed progress on international policy commitments.

A political declaration adopted by heads of state in September 2025 on noncommunicable diseases and mental health was cited as a milestone, with references to children and youth included multiple times, reflecting increased global attention to these issues.Despite broad agreement on key priorities, the Board did not reach consensus on all agenda items, with some decisions requiring formal votes.

By the end of the session, seven decisions were adopted, covering areas including governance, financial oversight, evaluation frameworks and fundraising strategies.The Board approved eight country programmes and extended a subregional programme for the Gulf Area.

These programmes are intended to guide interventions across sectors including health, education, nutrition and child protection, reflecting an integrated approach to humanitarian and development challenges.In closing remarks, Russell said the approved programmes provide operational frameworks for delivering measurable outcomes, while acknowledging the absence of consensus on certain items.

Tammsaar expressed concern over divisions within the Board, stating that consensus-based decisions strengthen institutional unity and effectiveness.The next annual session of the Executive Board is scheduled to take place from June 16 to 19, 2026.

The recent escalation of violence across parts of the Middle East and North Africa is intensifying risks for children, with mounting evidence of casualties, displacement, and psychological distress, according to accounts compiled by humanitarian agencies and local testimonies.

The developments reflect a broader pattern in which children are increasingly exposed to recurrent episodes of armed conflict, disrupting essential services and undermining long-term well-being.In Tehran, a mother identified as Maryam described the sequence of events that unfolded during a recent episode of strikes. While attempting to pick up her younger son from school, she received a message from her older son indicating that an attack had occurred. Communication networks were partially disrupted, delaying contact.

When she eventually reached him, he was sheltering in a school basement alongside other students. According to her account, several children were visibly distressed, while others attempted to remain composed. During the exchange, her son asked whether the situation constituted a war, reflecting uncertainty among civilians amid rapidly changing conditions.Maryam reported that urban mobility was severely affected during the incident, with traffic congestion extending travel times significantly.

Upon reaching her younger child, she described an immediate but temporary sense of relief. In the days that followed, she noted that aerial activity and bombardments became more frequent, contributing to a sustained atmosphere of insecurity.Humanitarian reporting indicates that similar patterns are emerging across multiple locations in the region.

Recent weeks have seen a rise in reported child casualties, alongside large-scale displacement affecting hundreds of thousands. Many families have been forced to relocate to temporary shelters, often under urgent and unstable conditions. The disruption has extended to critical infrastructure, including schools and healthcare facilities, which are increasingly affected by ongoing hostilities.

In Lebanon, accounts from displaced families illustrate the immediate effects of these developments. Rahaf, aged five, described leaving her home due to safety concerns following nearby bombardments. She expressed a preference to return to familiar surroundings, highlighting the disruption of daily routines such as play and sleep. Another child, Adam, aged ten, recounted a nighttime evacuation marked by repeated airstrikes during transit.

He described the experience as disorienting, with persistent noise and physical tremors contributing to fear during the journey.Testimonies from Iran indicate comparable experiences. Maseeh, aged fourteen, stated that prior exposure to conflict had influenced his reaction, noting a degree of familiarity with such events. However, he acknowledged ongoing stress linked to uncertainty about potential future strikes.

Another teenager, Sina, aged sixteen, pointed to the combined impact of military activity and communication disruptions, including internet blackouts, as contributing to sustained psychological pressure.Field observations suggest that the effects of conflict on children extend beyond immediate physical risks. Behavioral responses, as described by caregivers, include coping mechanisms such as increasing exposure to music to mask the sound of explosions, as well as frequent communication among peers to confirm safety.

Questions about the continuity of education and the duration of hostilities appear to be common among affected children, according to parental accounts.Maryam noted that her children’s reactions often manifest in subtle ways, including heightened vigilance and repeated inquiries about safety and future developments. She indicated that this is not their first exposure to conflict, underscoring the cumulative nature of such experiences in certain regions.

The recurrence of these events raises concerns about long-term psychological impacts, particularly in contexts where access to consistent mental health support may be limited.Humanitarian organizations report that interventions are underway to address both immediate and longer-term needs. These include the provision of emergency supplies such as bedding, hygiene kits, and water, as well as efforts to deliver mental health and psychosocial support services.

Such programs aim to mitigate the effects of trauma and provide structured support for children and families navigating displacement and uncertainty.Despite these efforts, operational challenges persist due to the scale and frequency of the incidents. Displacement sites, including repurposed public buildings such as schools, are accommodating large numbers of families, often under constrained conditions.

The conversion of educational facilities into shelters further disrupts access to schooling, compounding the broader impact on children’s development.International humanitarian law stipulates the protection of civilians, including children, and the safeguarding of civilian infrastructure during armed conflict. However, reports from multiple locations indicate that these provisions are not consistently upheld.

The targeting or incidental damage of schools and healthcare facilities has been documented, raising concerns among international observers and aid agencies regarding compliance with established norms.Maryam also described the psychological burden experienced by caregivers, noting difficulties in maintaining a sense of security for children amid ongoing uncertainty.

She reported sleep disruption driven by concerns about responding to emergencies in a timely manner. Her account reflects a broader trend in which parents are managing both their own stress and the emotional needs of their children under prolonged conditions of instability.In addition to immediate safety concerns, there is evidence of longer-term social and developmental implications.

Repeated displacement, interruptions in education, and sustained exposure to violence are factors associated with adverse outcomes in child development, according to existing research cited by humanitarian agencies. The normalization of conflict within childhood environments represents a significant shift with potential generational effects.

Maryam indicated that she attempts to shield her children from the most distressing aspects of the situation, drawing on her own experiences of growing up in a conflict-affected environment. At the same time, she acknowledged limitations in her ability to fully mitigate the impact. She also referred to a broader awareness of families who have experienced greater losses, including those unable to provide similar levels of protection.

The current trajectory of events suggests that children in affected areas are likely to remain exposed to a combination of direct and indirect risks associated with armed conflict.

The persistence of hostilities, coupled with infrastructural disruptions and displacement, continues to shape the daily experiences of families across the region.