Happiness? It's all Greek to me When I bought my house in Naxos, a house that I adore, I said to a friend, "If I can't be happy there, I can't be happy anywhere." Well, seven years later I fear that, like Philip Larkin, I would need to be someone else to be happy. The biggest obstacle to happiness, even to contentment, for most of my adult life has been depression or, rather, anxiety. I can't even think, let alone write, when I am anxious. I spent 10 years in therapy and it taught me a lot, but it never cured my anxiety. The only thing that has worked for that is pills, which is why I now take 10mg a day (a tiny amount) of paroxetine, and, as far as I can tell, will be doing so for the rest of my life. My doctor in London told me that a "significant minority" of people should stay on antidepressants, possibly forever. The causes of my anxiety are various: money, or the lack thereof, and getting older seem to be the main culprits. Yet I don't remember being free of anxiety when I was younger, and I don't think that I would be happier if I had married, had children or led a more conventional life. I am affected by the weather; I hate grey skies and rain (though we need the latter here and, finally, I have learnt to welcome it). This winter, which has been mainly cold and grey, seems to reflect the turmoil in which Greece finds itself. But I know that even if everything were OK in the country, I would still be subject to bouts of depression, or anxiety attacks. I remember, some years ago, my ex-boyfriend, who subsequently died of cancer, telling me that the doctors thought that his breakdown - a kind of physical and mental breakdown that manifested itself by terrible stomach ache - was caused by depression. "But I don't feel depressed," he said. Disappointed, yes. "But," I told him, "if you're disappointed often enough, then it's depressing." I haven't been disappointed (not in any way that means very much - I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy my life), nor do I suffer from loneliness. Yet. That may come, but none the less I am constantly anxious. No amount of rationalisation or stiff upper lip really helps. A large cheque does - for a time. As do the pills. And the knowledge that, if it wasn't money, it would be something else. I am an anxious person. For at least 10 days before I travel, before I leave home (that is the real anxiety), I wake every morning at five, sometimes when it is still dark, which, of course, makes the anxiety worse. I can't get to sleep at night; my fingers tingle and ache; I have an upset stomach and feel nauseous. It's a miracle that I go anywhere. More than once I have been down at the harbour with my suitcase and my ticket and I have had such a panic attack that I literally haven't been able to travel. One time I boarded the boat, only to get off when it was delayed and I succumbed to panic. Many people believe that mind over matter is the key to overcoming anxiety. The pills are the only things that work for me and there is no shame in my recognising that.