mental health – Page 11 – Lessons I learned after I turned 30

July the 16th

There’s not much to say for the actual day. That’s what normally happens doesn’t it? It’s always the build up before the big day that causes most of the angst and it’s almost never as bad as you think it will be.

Monday, 16th of July

I woke up bright and early despite the exhaustion and the slight hangover (all worth it Jaba!). I had plans for the weekend I was not willing to cancel because of the move. Jazz night in London on Saturday, Mark’s 50th BBQ party on Sunday, I couldn’t possibly miss either so I spent the little time I had in between to pack and on Monday morning I was almost ready.

I had a last cup of coffee at the old place, finished packing and headed to the agency to fill in the paperwork and get the keys. On my way there I kept thinking of everything that happened the last 6 months. I know this is just in my mind, a symbolic gesture but it felt I can leave all of it behind, in that flat. As if never happened. Although it did. But I take what I learned from each and move on. Somehow every time it feels easier.

I went back home and waited for Barry, my removal man. After about two hours it was all done. Barry and his wife were just brilliant. Although I had more stuff that I originally thought, they squeezed everything in their van and didn’t charge me extra and they took special care of my more precious belongings.

I had no furniture other than my bed, a dressing table and a TV stand so after I unpacked most of my things, I put some blankets and cushions in a corner of the living room and connected the TV. It would do for now…

I was unbelievably happy I finally moved back on my own. Still, after two months, I catch myself smiling when thinking I now live alone again and I love everything about my new place, the space, they layout, the balcony, I even made a new friend, Mr Coco Flaps (thanks to Dan and Emma’s wonderful children who helped with the name).

I tortured myself over the last couple of months overthinking, wondering if I was the problem.

Did I overreact? Should I have put up with living with someone else for a bit longer? Dirty dishes in the sink, not paying the Council tax and not saying anything until I got a letter (the first one I didn’t get to see until yesterday) from the Council. Surely it’s not just me who wouldn’t put up with this?

Did I cause getting ghosted twice over the last six months? Have I sub-consciously done something to make people disappear with no explanation? I would have never done that to anyone and it still shocks me that people think it’s OK to do that.

If that happened to you too, it is definitely NOT you. It’s not your fault if others are not brave or honest enough to just say what they think and what they feel.

I’m not sure if everything happens for a reason. But you certainly learn from every single experience. Sometimes is a reminder of something you already know, sometimes it’s a brand new lesson and sometimes through a bad experience, you make new friends, you become closer to your existing friends and you appreciate life more.

I’m a firm believer of starting over whenever you want to, it doesn’t have to be New Year or New Week or New Day, it could be a New Second, you can decide to change your life anytime, but moving into a new place is a de facto new start and an opportunity to hit the refresh button. There’s still a lot I want to do and as much as I try it’s not going to happen overnight, all this ‘When you desperately want something, the universe will make it happen’ is simply not true. Your life changes for the better when you keep trying and keep improving yourself. Just remember to be happy with where you are right now, love your self unlimitedly and don’t forget what you achieved so far. I certainly remind myself often.

As Adriene would say the light in me bows to the light in you.

Namaste

Eleni

July the 16th, the Graduation before

Ooh ooh, ooh
You are not alone
Ooh ooh
For the last time I am sure…

Graduation week at Solent. My favourite working week of the year, by-a-mile. A celebration of our students’ achievements, a special moment in their life, one they share with their loved ones, one they will always remember when they get old and wrinkly and I get to be part of it, helping out, ushering them, cheering them on just before they nervously walk on stage to get their certificate. Steve, a colleague told me a month later when I bumped into him how nice it was to see a friendly face down the stairs, smiling and chatting to the students before their big moment. See that’s why I love volunteering. The joy you get from it doesn’t compare to anything else.

This year was even more special, one I will remember. Why you ask.

Wednesday, 11th of July

I woke up in horrible pain. It’s not those days of the month yet, not just yet but all the anxiety took its toll. I sometimes worry the effect of stress on my body may have permanently damaged it…

I slowly got ready and went in the office early to scan and send some paperwork to the letting agent and put my gown on before I head to Guildhall for graduation.

I found out yesterday that if my references go through on time, I’ll have a place to move to on Monday. What else can go wrong you say…

Emails went through to a contact I had at the agency I rent my current flat from and my manager last night. But neither reference forms have been filled in yet.

The heat, the thick gown and the anxiety levels fast rising caused me to break into nervous sweat. I could feel it dripping down my back. I won’t have much time to check my phone as soon as the first ceremony starts until lunchtime…What if? What if?

Just before I finish my morning coffee I give Dan, my current landlord referee a call but there’s no answer…

I go back in, I can’t let this distract me from what I’m here to do. A year later I’m once again behind the bar at the Guildhall and some of my favourite colleagues are there. We have a chat and prepare for the morning ceremony. One of my favourite moments, the calmness and quiet before the first guests walk through the door. God I love everything about Graduation.

I check my phone every now and then, no news, neither reference has gone through yet.

At lunchtime I call the Radian main office and ask for Dan but I found out Dan had left the company so they give me another number to call. Nadine who is now managing our property was out and she was off for the rest of the week. I send an urgent email to a generic address and pray for the best.

The morning ceremony was just beautiful. There was an in house student band this year and they were in-cre-di-ble. Pete Wilson, the Popular Music and Performance course leader who organised the whole thing, did an amazing job once again.

I still remember their cover of Swim by Fickle Friends. By the end of the week we all have danced to it. Another little moment I saved in my memories box, watching everyone swinging along sometimes without realising.

Ooh ooh, ooh
You are not alone
Ooh ooh
For the last time I am sure…

After lunch I get an email from the agent, my landlord reference has gone through but not the one by my manager.

I go back in the office after we wrapped up for the day. It seems Suzanne never got that second email. Seriously? Sometimes I wonder how unlucky I can be.

I call Homelet, (the referencing company that the lettings agency is using, £75 references cost by the way, £75 for me to do all the hard work and for them to just send a reference form through email and they can’t even get that right) but they closed early that day. Come on!

I still need to book a removal company but I can’t really until I know for sure I’m moving on Monday.

It will all be VERY last minute…

Thursday 12th of July

I go straight to the Guildhall today. I want all the flat related problems to be over with so I can enjoy Graduation to the full. And soon they are.

I call Homelet first thing in the morning, apparently there was a glitch on the system but they re-send the email to Suzanne there and then, she fills in my reference soon after and then the lettings agency emails me to say that everything is OK and to go on Monday at 12pm to sign the contract, pay my deposit and get the keys. AMEN!

I can finally relax. I still have to arrange the actual move and do most of the packing before Saturday, since I’ll spend it in London but that’s something completely under my control, so I don’t have to worry about that.

The rest of the day was brilliant. I loved chatting to all my lovely colleagues, especially Gillian. What a woman. So caring, motherly and offered to help with anything. I hope she knows how lovely she is.

I loved ushering the students on stage especially Paul Maple, a talented colleague I remember since I met him when I first started working at Solent, 7 years ago, and I finally managed to sit on the big deck chair and have an ice-cream with Dext, enjoying the sunshine.

It was the best ice cream I ever had. Not because of the taste. It was a common vanilla ice cream. But that moment. The sun shining in my face, blessed I had a great day and finally a stress-free relaxing moment, after all the drama of the last four days.

When I got home, I booked the removal company through AnyVan, the website I used six months ago when I moved again, I had no time to do any research and call for quote. It seems a local company accepted my quote but they didn’t send me any details straight away. Maybe I should start thinking of Plan B in case I end up with no-one to help me move? My contract ends on Monday so I HAVE to leave my old place by then…

Friday, 13th of July

If you love somebody, let them know whilst they are here ’cause they just might run away from you…

On Top of the World was playing on speakers and Lou, Sarah, Helen and I smiled at each other and hummed along…

I looked forward to this day for months. The last day of Graduation week 2018 and I would be part of the surprise Sarah, SingForce, the Solent choir and I were planning since Sarah came up with the idea months ago.

The morning ceremony went unexpectedly fast (in the meantime I got an email with my Removal company details, finally all ready for Monday) and with it a great surprise.

Whilst ushering students on stage, a familiar face… Steve Carter!!! Steve worked at Solent for years as the Head of Finance but I only got to know him better the last couple of years. He worked at Greece in the past so he knew Greek. Every now and then I’ll hear ‘Καλημέρα’ (Good morning) when wandering at work and it’ll make me smile, I knew it was Steve. A sweet, caring manager and incredibly awesome at what he does.

As soon as I saw him I couldn’t help but smile. He gave me a hug and whispered in my ear how much he loved my blog. I teared up watching him go up on stage. What an honour to usher Steve on stage to get his Masters.

After a quick break for lunch, it was time for the last ceremony of 2018. Dan has just arrived, looking handsome in his black suit and Jack came along to film.

All the volunteers, exhausted but happy that we got to the end of this year’s Graduation ceremonies danced along to Swim whilst the procession came over from the Spark for the last time. Familiar faces were in the Procession who wouldn’t be under normal circumstances. Suzanne asked me if I knew why but I pretended I didn’t.

When everyone went in, just before I were to go in with Sarah and Donald to get in place for ushering, two trolleys full with gowns arrived from the Spark for the 80 special guests we were about to sneak into the Guildhall.

After ushering I didn’t get out as I normally do. I stood at the side and waited. The plan was for Dan to go on stage, start singing the first verse of On Top of the World and after that we join him, the Solent choir (some of were in the Procession) and Singforce members who came along to help us make this flashmob bigger. And we made it! What a beautiful end to an amazing week.

After wrapping up for the last time, we went out for a well-deserved drink. Sarah has done an incredible job again. Superwoman I call her. She really is. Thank you for trusting me again with such a great responsibility.

I’ll always remember Graduation week 2018. The drama and stress of moving but more so for the laughs, the chats, ushering our graduates on stage, watching Paul and Steve getting their degrees and of course the Flashmob.

Namaste

An afternoon of songs and stories

I came back from Cyprus on a sunny Friday afternoon. An eventful return, delay after delay, twelve hours on the go with a heavy heart and my mind buzzing, thinking of what I can do to get out of the routine I was about to get back into, already missing the sun and exploring my home island, already missing the sea, the love and the people.

I didn’t get into my little ‘under construction’ home until late at night and Saturday went too fast. But I had something to look forward to on Sunday.

The next Touch event. I’m so lucky to volunteer for such a great charity. Every time I leave inspired, motivated, touched.

This one was even more special. A collaboration between the amazing Love Soul Choir run by Dan, one of my favourite humans and Touch, songs and stories at probably my favourite venue in Southampton, Harbour Lights.

Music, soul’s medicine and real life, every day, inspiring stories. I knew before I got there it would be a great one.

After a short glorious walk on a sunny, unexpectedly warm afternoon I arrived there a bit early to help out. I loved being down at the reception directing guests upstairs. I was more than once mistaken for Harbour Lights staff and I loved directing people to the till, to the screens, to the bar. The little every day surprises I find amusing.

Many familiar faces in the crowd, Bev, Lucy, Svetlana.

2pm and we are about to start. After a short intro Love Soul is up, warming up the audience with their incredible vocals and then Vie, the first speaker, takes the mic.

She is wearing a black coat the other way around, and lets her hair down, covering her face. That’s who she was for the first thirty years of her life. She was told since the tender age of six that she was ‘fat and ugly’ by her own family. She was bullied to believe she would never become anything special. How sad to be made to feel like that by your loved ones.

But after she discovered burlesque dancing her life completely changed. She became a qualified trainer, a motivational speaker, a bright example dressed in pretty 50s vintage clothes with flowers on her gorgeous hair, for young people to follow.

After Vie, Love Soul entertained us with a few more songs before the break and then Andy, our second speaker got up. What a life he and his wife already had despite their young age. Seizures, miscarriage, a devastating brain tumour diagnosis and radiotherapy for his wife… But they never lost hope, they kept going and through their faith and support from their family and friends they made it through and they are both and their two lovely boys well and happy.

Andy writes beautiful poems and he read a couple to us. He even brought copies of his book Uplifted and gave them out for free. This one is the last he read, which sums up his life attitude:

Remedy

There it is, suddenly

Something so much bigger than me

Feeling that significance is my life’s

Parody

Revelation is my remedy

It’s not who I am

It’s who has my destiny

Got no strength; I am weak

Yet the great I AM is the conqueror

Where all I see defeat

No broken promises

Just incomplete

All things to good, I believe

My only hope

My remedy

Love Soul was up next singing two more songs and then it was time for our final speaker Abby.

Another in-cre-di-ble story, another amazing human. Abby was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder when she was 25, after years of minimal sleep, pain, lows and highs. Solent Mind supported her throughout her journey and after becoming a motivational speaker and a mental health advocate she is now running her own project, Heads Up, delivering workshops to young people of all ages in schools, colleges, anywhere there are young people, raising awareness for mental health so she can help others from as early as possible.

What an astonishingly immaculate difference it will make to a person’s life to get diagnosed and get help as soon as they can feel that something is wrong, to know that it is OK not to be OK and not suffer in silence for years.

After Abby’s speech Love Soul closed the event with a final song. What a beautiful ending to an already marvellous afternoon.

I can’t wait for our next event. Still, after five months of volunteering for Touch it surprises me how everyone has a story to tell, how I can relate to all in some way, how many amazing humans are out there and how inspired I get from each one of them. I truly hope that one day we live in a world that accommodates openness and honesty, where feeling vulnerable is not a weakness and everyone feels comfortable to share their story and learn from each other .

Eleni

July the 16th, the Tuesday before. Divine Intervention

Tuesday, 10th of July

Is it morning yet?

It was a beautiful, sunny morning but it all I could see still was grey.

I somehow make it to work.

I got an email from the agency, the flat I’ve seen yesterday wouldn’t be ready for the 16th and someone made an offer to rent it at the end of the month, when it would be available. My heart sank.

I’m feeling sick again.

What should I do? Should I go for one of the claustrophobic, depressing studio flats I’ve seen and get it over with? Should I just give up for now and move in with Jamie until I find a place?’What should I do??

I had a last look online and there it was, a one bed flat on the High Street I’ve seen on Rightmove before but it was over my budget. The price was now reduced, still overbudget but only by £35. It is available now and it looks pretty.

I call the estates agent to arrange a viewing, for today if possible. I explained my situation and she re-assured me that moving in less than a week is possible as the flat was vacant.

I could go see it in about an hour but I’m at work, I can’t just leave. The only time the agent could do was 1:15pm, but there would be someone else viewing it at the same time. Just my luck. But I’d still go. You never know.

From 9am until lunchtime I was a wreck. I tried really hard to concentrate and do some work but every now and then my mind would fall into despair and I all I wanted to do is cry.

Divine Intervention

Suddenly I get a message from Dan, one of the very few people who can understand the way my mind works, the crazy spiral it goes into when I’m stressed. He was at the Uni early for our choir session so I meet him downstairs. He gives me a big hug and we have a chat. Talking to him was the only thing that eased my mind for a while.

Under other circumstances I would give the rehearsal a miss, I can’t concentrate to do anything, let along remember lyrics and harmonies, but our little surprise for Graduation is in three days, this one was going to be just for that and I wouldn’t have missed that for anything. After our session I ran. I ran to make it to my appointment on time.

I viewed the flat at the same time as an elder couple and their daughter, they came along with her, she seemed very shy, I guess that’s why she brought their parents.

I loved it from the first time I walked into the building. Spacious corridors with laminated floors, grandiose mirrors on each floor, freshly clean smell and the flat itself was spacious, more than enough for one, modern, it even had a large balcony I didn’t know about.

Do I like it ’cause it’s actually nice or because I’m desperate to move on the 16th and avoid the hassle of moving twice? I often wonder why and how I do things. Sometimes I can easily recognise that I do something I truly like, others because of this innate need, which more than often leads to disappointment, to feel accepted, loved, important, wanted, safe.

This feels right though. I like it for the right reasons. I can see myself living happily here. It’s modern and big enough to have friends over, cosy autumn nights with a hot cuppa watching films or snuggled on my sofa reading a book, sunny mornings doing my yoga in the living room, sitting on the balcony people watching in the summer.

This could be it, but don’t get too excited yet.

I asked the agent what would happen if we both liked the flat. It seems that the young shy girl and her parents liked it too.

-In that case, we’d take both offers to the landlady and she will choose.

-And if I make an offer and is accepted, is it possible to move in on Monday?

-It usually takes over a week, it’s probably not possible. If you like it, give the office a call, as I’m off for the rest of the day and they’ll talk things through.

My heart sank, again. So it probably won’t happen. I called the agency on my way back to work and left a message anyway. An hour went by and didn’t hear from them. I knew it was over. I ran to the toilet and had a cry.

I messaged Jamie if I could still move in his spare room. He fortunately left me a spare key- he was going on holiday today but he is so thoughtful he left me a key at work to use if needed.

Although I was sad things didn’t work out, I was relieved, I didn’t have to stress and desperately keep looking for a place to move in 6 days, my anxiety would be kept at bay, for now.

Divine intervention

I stayed at work late, since I had a long lunch break and around 17:30 I get a phone call, from the agency. In my rush earlier I didn’t leave my name on my message, they lady on the other end of the line told me. I can’t remember much. That’s what happens when I’m too anxious.

It took them hours to figure out who it was.

She told me that if I still wanted to, she could contact the landlady and put my offer forward and if all my references go through within the next 24 hours, I can move in on the 16th.

I couldn’t believe it!

My battery was about to go and I sat at the park, at my favourite bench, patiently waiting for the agent to call me back and let me know if the landlady accepted my offer.

After what felt like hours, but it was actually 10 minutes later my phone rings.

Yes, the landlady agreed!!! I may now have a home!

I stayed there, at the bench, staring at the sun, thanking my lucky stars for today. I then message Chris, Dan, Sheba and my little sister to tell them the good news. I wouldn’t have done it without them. I would have broken down into million pieces and felt so paralysed I wouldn’t have kept going. I can’t stop thinking how lucky I am to have such incredible, loving, caring friends and family.

The huge rock that was on my back, crushing my bones into the ground all this time was suddenly lifted. It’s not over yet, I still need the references to go through quickly, I know my manager will fill in the forms instantly but what about my current landlord?

To be continued…

July the 16th, the Monday before

July the 16th, a date that filled me with joy and anticipation, the day I were to move out of a shared flat into my own little heaven once again, a day I’ve been eagerly waiting for months… a day that caused me sleepless nights and severe anxiety, though it was all worth it in the end.

Monday, 9th of July, the week before the big date…

Morning. Another sleepless night. I drag myself out of bed, get ready as fast as I possibly can and head to work. The weather has been glorious, sun shining, birds chirping, but my stress has transformed everything into a melancholic Van Gogh painting.

I find a wrapped bottle of something on my desk… What is it? Who is it from?

Denise brought me rose water from Cyprus!!! I can’t believe she remembered.

I open it there and then and wash my hands with it. I almost cried. Sweet childhood memories of hot summer days back home, washing my giagia Stella’s face with it, spraying it in my face ’cause I loved the smell so much.

For a moment I forget all my troubles. I wish Denise knew what that meant to me. I needed that brief time of calmness and joy in the sea of worries that’s been drowning me for the last couple of weeks. I’m so lucky to have such wonderful friends.

12:45pm. I just came back to work after the fourth viewing in the last two weeks. I think I liked this flat the most out of the rest. It’s small, but not a studio, it’s just opposite work, is a bit over budget but it will do. I can make it work.

I saw a recipe in Greek on the fridge, hah he is Greek…

It will finally put an end to this endless anxiety and constant worry whether I’d have somewhere to move to next Monday. But not just somewhere, somewhere I at least like.

The flats I’ve already seen were either too small, or too old, or no washing machine, or no oven (I have no idea how the person who lived there survived without an oven). I guess I can always compromise.

If I could make a decision…

The excruciating pain of my paralysing inability to make a decision… Should I go for a studio flat and try and save more money or should I pay a bit more and live somewhere nice for the first time ever after I broke up with Costas, rather than a tiny studio or an old building or living with a flatmate again? What’s most important? Location or space? What should I do? Compromise and try to save or go for comfort for once? Treat myself instead? But Chris is right, it may be better to wait and find a place I really like, a place that feels like home. What if I don’t find a place by next Monday, what if I end up on the street? What if am making the wrong decision? What is the meaning of life anyway? Aaaah

I haven’t slept well in weeks, I don’t have much of an appetite and I feel I may throw up any minute now.

I’m waiting for the agency to give me a call back and let me know whether the current tenant can move out of the flat by Monday, they reassured me that would probably be OK, but they have to check with him…

-We’ll let you know as soon as possible, in a couple of hours, he (the tenant) usually gets back to us quick.

2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm. I haven’t heard back from them.

I could barely concentrate at work, but thankfully managed to keep on top.

I went home, had something small to eat and went to bed. I couldn’t do anything else.

What if the tenant can’t move out on the 16th? Should I go for one of the flats I’ve already seen? Maybe the larger studio I liked but in an ugly, dirty building? Should I stay with Jamie for a while instead until I find somewhere I really like? But what will I do with my stuff? Maybe just go for the small, tiny one that is available now?

Pleasee stop, everything will be OK, I’m sure the agent will call first thing in the morning and tell you everything will be fine, go to sleep. But what if?

I barely slept.

On board Queen Victoria

Friday, 20th of July,

8:03. The alarm goes off.

I can’t get up. I can’t move my feet. I really want to make it to the QEII terminal. I really want to make it to Queen Victoria but I’m really not sure I can.

You know that feeling, after a huge stressful event in your life, an exam, an interview, a dentist’s appointment (for some of us), when the adrenaline dramatically goes down and emotional and physical exhaustion takes its place? When there is still some stress residue at the back of your brain, but you feel drained and tired all the time?

My anxiety reached record highs in the last couple of weeks, it reached levels I couldn’t keep under control. I physically felt sick, sick to my stomach.

The drama of finding a place to move into tested every inch of me (blog coming soon). As soon as I moved in I relaxed. But couldn’t shake this blanket of sadness. That was to be expected. Closing the door on the last 6 months was not easy.

Last night I had to say goodbye to our beloved boss Dave (more on that soon). I know we’ll keep in touch but there is a real possibility I may never see him again. I may not be in Southampton or in this country when he comes back from Bangladesh, he may decide to stay there permanently… I may never see him again. What a terrifying thought.

‘Why didn’t he say hi??’ Whilst I was sitting at Tapas, waiting for Dave and the rest of the gang, I saw someone I knew passing by. They pretended they didn’t see me and I did the same. I don’t handle rejection well. I instantly felt sad. Sometimes I feel too much… I walked to the bar to get a drink, had a laugh with Angel, the barman (that’s what I call him after he made me a delicious Angel’s Touch) and then I looked around the table, the beautiful company I was in, my wonderful friends and colleagues and smiled. Maybe one person rejected you, but look how many others love you and cherish your friendship.

But I really want to make it to the ship visit. All the lovely people I met last time will be there, Danny, Liam, Jordan, Richard, Cat, Tansy and when will I ever be offered the chance again to get a free tour and three course meal on one of Cunard’s most luxurious ships?

I drag myself out of bed, had a quick shower and got ready. No casual clothes as per the dress code so I put on my blue floral dress and black heel sandals and make my way to the terminal.

The sun is shining and the harbour is buzzing with passengers getting out of the ship, naval staff getting on board, taxis, cars. I love it.

A million thoughts cross my mind on my way there. I’ve been struggling with confidence again lately and the sadness is overwhelming sometimes. I wonder whether anyone will remember me from last time, if they still like me, if they ever liked me?

I make it on time for a change! Everyone is there, having a cup of coffee. I grab one and I start chatting with two lovely ladies who work for the Mayflower.

And then I meet Christina. A Solent Cruise Management graduate who landed her dream job at Carnival. Another great Solent success story. I wonder if our ER people know about her... We chat about living abroad, her job, her dreams, her aspirations. She is gonna be one of our tour guides and she is a bit nervous. I’m somehow certain she’ll do great.

The tour is about to begin. Christina and her manager (why can’t I remember her name?) who looks very familiar were brilliant. Where do I know her from? Who does she remind me? Is it from my time at Carnival?

The main hall looks amazing, with the grand piano catching my eye immediately and where later it’ll be full of beautiful music by three exquisite violinists which I genuinely thought it was a recording. I could imagine myself in a vintage lace dress walking down the stairs, sitting across the violinists enjoying a glass of wine…

We then pop to the library, it has a very traditional, Harry Potter, almost magical feeling to it.

I vaguely remember the rest of the tour, especially towards the end, when hunger was getting real but some of my favourite parts I do remember and snapped:

One of the suites that was larger than my whole flat. As part of the package you get your own personal butler and champagne amongst other perks.

One of the standard rooms, very claustrophobic.

The gorgeous, elegant restaurant areas…

My favourite part of the ship: The Spa. Especially the hot stone chairs, I could stay on those for ever.

My second favourite part: The viewpoint on the upper deck. The views are breathtaking. Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you
That is how I know you, go on

The theatre. Bright red and gold colours. Stunning.

The vintage dance/performance/ball room. Here I am again, in my vintage lace dress, jiving…

And as with every ship, the beautiful sea views. What is it that draws me to the sea? Is it because I was born on an island?

By the end of the tour we were all starving.

We met at the Britannia restaurant for our three course meal and unlimited wine.

I went for the Crayfish and Crab cocktail with avocado sauce for a starter, the roasted (to perfection) medium rare beef accompanied by glazed vegetables and finished off with white chocolate profiteroles served with pistachio and coffee ice cream.

All three courses were delicious, the wine and service were impeccable (the waiter refilled our wine glasses every time we were running low) and I had just the best company on my table. Tansy, Liam, Jordan, Gavin and… Leslie! That’s who she reminds me of, Leslie Knope!! She sounds like her, she even looks like her. Here she is at the background. Pat, Sarah? Doesn’t she look like her??

At some point during lunch, the lovely Danny, one of the main organisers of the Pride came over to chat about my responsibilities for the day. I’m incredibly grateful he trusted me with something so important and I hope I won’t disappoint him.

For those who don’t know Danny, he is not only kind and sweet, he also does most of the planning for the Pride alongside his main job. He goes home after work and spends hours organising THE whole thing. I truly admire him.

It’s now less than a month before the biggest, most colourful, cheering, love celebratory, open to everyone, party takes place in Southampton, the Southampton Pride 2018 (25th of August). And I can’t wait.

If anyone would like to volunteer, I’d with no second thought recommend it. You meet amazing people, who make you feel loved from the very first moment you meet them, it’s a fun day you’ll never forget and who knows, you may be on the next free meal Cunard offers for volunteers.

A huge, enormous thank you to Southampton Pride, Danny, the rest of the organisers and Cunard for supporting such a great initiative and of course for the free ship visits and delicious meals.

I wouldn’t probably afford to go on a cruise on either Ventura or Queen Elizabeth and even if I could, I’d opt for a month exploring Cuba and Costa Rica so for me to be given the opportunity to get a glimpse of how these gorgeous sea crafts operate and what they offer to their passengers as well as eating on board with such a wonderful bunch, it truly is a blessing.

Namaste

Eleni

A foster carer, a former priest and other super humans: A night to remember

Thursday, 14th of June

Hannah picked me up from home. We are heading to BySea cafe in Portswood. The next live storytelling event is about to start in a couple of hours and I’m a tiny bit nervous. But I can’t wait. Exhilarated.

I keep hearing this in my head. Somewhere in the desert there’s a forest…And an acre before us…

Today is going to be a special one, I can feel it. As soon as I’ve read about the speakers.

Hannah and I went early to set up. It was all done in less than half an hour, we even had time for a cup of tea and an enormous slice of cake. The portions at Bysea are huge.

I’m a little nervous because Debs asked me to host tonight’s event, talk at the start, introduce the speakers and bring it all to an end after the last speaker.

I love chatting but I never spoke in front of an audience before. I guess I did if you count the short speech at the last year of primary school, when I was 12 (which my cousin wrote for me, she was 18 at the time and was just about to study pedagogy to become a prime school teacher, she always wrote beautifully) and about 3 years ago the eulogy at my aunt’s funeral which again my cousin wrote, but this time it was for her mum and I was reading it on her behalf. Hardest thing I had to do in my life ever. To the day.

But I never ever spoke in English in front of an audience.

I don’t get too stressed nowadays, not any more but I was still a bit anxious. And also excited.

What’s the worst it could happen?

Just before 8pm.

The place is buzzing. Debs and Hannah were worried not many people will show up, there were a couple of other events on the same night, but the place is full.

Time to go up!

I don’t want to look at my notes much so I look around, at our guests, into their eyes.

God everyone is staring at me! Why?

You are talking to them you silly. You are the centre of the attention. They are supposed to look at and listen to you.

I panicked for a second and I forgot a couple of things I needed to say, it’s OK you can mention them late, so I went ahead and introduced our first speakers.

Jon and Chris.

(I struggled to find the right words that can capture the beauty of their story. I hope I did it justice).

A sweet couple, Jon and Chris came up on stage, and read out loud their story in turns. The story of their beloved daughter Katie. From the little I learned about her through her parents, she must have been an amazing human being. Despite all the tough ‘challenges’ (I hate this word, it cannot capture the pain, the torture, physical, emotional and mental that one can experience) life through at her, disability, cancer, she was determined to live life to the full.

She lived on her own, she drove, she studied at University and although when she was first diagnosed with cancer she was given a few years to live, she lived 17 more years. She proved them wrong!

She was incredibly strong, brave and considerate until the very end. The night before she died she listened to her friend talking about her everyday problems and worries, although she was in terrible pain herself. That’s the kind of person she was.

Jon and Chris went on to talk about how they are dealing with their grief, after Katie passed away 18 months ago and how their faith helped them. A friend once told Jon how grief is like a circle, the circle is all about the loved one you lost and at the start, you are in the centre of the circle, you cannot see past the sadness and the chaos. But as time goes by, you get out of the circle and it gets smaller, you can see beyond it, but it’s always there. You learn how to live with it. (I hope I remember it correctly, I got emotional at this point, it reminded me of my aunt, her death and how each of us are coping with it, in different ways, two and a half years later).

They took up new hobbies, e.g. Jon went on a cooking training class so she can teach others how to cook and they still do things Katie liked, not to reminisce and feel sad, but because they enjoy them too.

By the time they were done, I was already in tears. But it was time to get up and introduce the next speaker. I was so emotional I forgot to thank them publicly, on the mic, after I’ve given them their ‘I shared my story’ badges. What an idiot!

Dominic

Next up it was Dominic. He started off with a poem (he had the smoothest, most beautiful voice, I hope he seriously considers my suggestion of him start doing podcasts)…

Breathing under water

I built my house by the sea.

Not on the sands, mind you;
not on the shifting sand.
And I built it of rock.

A strong house
by a strong sea.
And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.
Good neighbors.
Not that we spoke much.
We met in silences.
Respectful, keeping our distance,
but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.
Always, the fence of sand our barrier,
always, the sand between.

And then one day,
-and I still don’t know how it happened –
the sea came.
Without warning.

Without welcome, even
Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand like wine,
less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.
Slow, but coming.
Slow, but flowing like an open wound.
And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning and I thought of death.
And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it reached my door.
And I knew, then, there was neither flight, nor death, nor drowning.
That when the sea comes calling, you stop being neighbors,
Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance neighbors,
And you give your house for a coral castle,
And you learn to breathe underwater.

Sr. Carol Bieleck, RSCJ
from an unpublished work

Dominic’s life was full of ups and downs, a friend used to call him Forrest Gump. And by the end of his talk I understood why.

The strict, often cruel teachers at the boarding school he went to, put him down, repeatedly told him he ‘won’t amount to much’.

Later in life he discovered he’d like to become a priest. It wasn’t an easy ride, he couldn’t even afford to buy the essentials on the list he was given, and he’d often borrow from the church in Portswood.

Five years after he became a priest, he suddenly, fell in love. He gave up priesthood to marry the love of his life.

After that he dealt with redundancy ‘One day I was a chief operative for a charity, the next day I was down at the job centre’ and other hurdles that came his way over the years.

His message: Life is unpredictable, you never know what the next day will bring you, but life is also beautiful, and when you learn to breath underwater, to face everything without drowning or giving up, you build a deepest, most meaningful appreciation for life.

Sam

The third speaker, Sam lost his dad to cancer about two years ago.

He found it hard to process his grief, until he discovered open water swimming. ‘Those fifteen minutes when swimming becomes automatic and you don’t have to think about moving your arms or your legs, those fifteen minutes of clarity of mind’.

When I heard this my mind went straight to meditation and how I feel when I do my yoga.

And just after I thought of that, surprisingly, Sam said ‘my friends told me when I described it to them, that’s similar to meditation’.

I kept thinking what was the one thing that helped me the most to overcome my grief three years ago. Writing. That’s what helped me. This blog.

Sam started a website since, Sporting Heads, where he shares stories, similar to his of mental health benefits of sports and exercise.

Jenny (ft Annie)

The last speaker Jenny (with the help of her dear friend Annie who interviewed her) is a foster carer. She fostered 52 children in 13 years!!

Jen shared incredible anecdotes of her life as a foster carer. What came across strongly was Jen’s unconditional love and care for the children, despite everything that comes with fostering a child.

A little girl she fostered used to defecate every time someone compliment her. Every time someone said ‘Isn’t she lovely?’. She is now doing much better, thanks to Jen.

This is just one of the many stories she shared with us.

Jen wouldn’t be able to do what she does without her support network, her friends, her family, her husband and ten children, and the community.

It’s not always easy, actually it’s not easy full stop. Most children come from troubled families, some they’ve been neglected others have been abused, they often struggle emotionally and physically, but with Jen’s love, care and patience, they grow stronger.

Annie read as a letter from one of Jenny’s foster children. It was impossible not to tear up.

I could sit and listen to these two ladies all night.

What a great way to end this wonderful evening.

At the end I got the chance to chat to some of these wonderful humans.

I asked Dominic about the poem he recited and told me how he came across it. He read it in a friend’s book, an American priest and was actually written by a nun. He gave me a copy to take home. What a sweet man.

I had a great chat with Annie, who I found out earlier amongst a million other things she does, she runs Communicare, a Southampton mental health charity tackling loneliness and isolation, which I recently signed up as a volunteer. Superwoman!

I went home feeling inspired, touched, blessed, happy, honoured I got to introduce and hear the stories of these amazing people.

If you have a story to share, get in touch. Everyone has a story. We all have a story. And that’s what Touch is all about, share our stories, learn from each other, touch each other’s lives.

And if you get the chance, come along to one of the events. Intimate, inspirational, so beautifully simple, humanity at it’s best.

Namaste

Eleni

A milestone. The end of an era. A new beginning.

It’s June. It’s finally June.

For some is insignificant. Another day, another month.

For others, a milestone. The end of an era. A new beginning.

It’s not just another day or just another month. A moment I’ve been waiting for a year and a half. A moment I thought may never come.

Today I repaid my loan. A weight I’ve been carrying for a year and a half, a weight that’s been pulling me down, forcefully keeping me firmly on the ground against my will since I decided that I have to get rid of my credit card and turn it into a loan if I’ll ever be debt free.

And the reason I’ve had to sacrifice living on my own, which I dearly, painfully miss every single day for the last 5 months. But not for long.

Earlier today…

I just woke up and I’m acutely aware I have to get out of bed and get ready for work. But I’m struggling.

Weird dreams, night sweats, stomach aching (God damn you Malbec, I love you but the next day is never fun), lack of sleep. No wonder I can’t move. No wonder I’m still in bed.

‘That I won’t know where I’m going, if I don’t know where I am, but I feel more, I feel more… lost’ The Wind and the Wave lyric that’s been haunting me for a while now… and I can’t stop repeating it… over and over.

7:45am and I’m still in bed…

Was I really in Cyprus a month ago? Was I in London two weeks ago? It can’t be. It’s blurry in my head. Distant, beautiful, loving memories. As if they happened months ago.

I can’t get used to it. The new office, the new responsibilities. I’m still helping out, still doing some of the things I used to do. Some people want it all. There and then. They can’t handle it. Some people don’t appreciate how well and efficiently you do your job, because you make it look easy. My fault?

I miss A101. I miss Donna and Linda and Sati and Sophie and Andy and Sarah and Dave, our kitchen chats, our laughs, our daily fun.

Dave, the best boss and one of the sweetest, friendliest, creative, inspiring humans I’ve ever met is leaving.

Syed, lovely, always polite, considerate, kind- hearted Syed is leaving.

Everyone’s leaving.

Sheba left, came back and she will be going again soon.

Now I’ll be debt-free I can go anywhere I want. Why am I still here? Should I go? Do I want to go? Where to? Why am I still here?

Ray died. I saw him a month ago at One Sound. But now I’ll never see him again. I’ll never see his smiley face.

What if my grandpa dies? He is the same age as Ray. Oh my God. I will not cope. I won’t be able to fly home on my own to face this. Why am I thinking this?

Ray died.

Change on top of change, on top of change. I love change. But how do you manage all this change?

I tried to make a new friend. And I failed. I failed. Is it me? Is there is something wrong with me? Am I too loud, too chatty, too annoying? Am I boring?

Is it them? Can you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped? Should you try harder or give up and let go?

I miss living on my own. I miss it so much it hurts. I miss it all the time.

13 reasons why. 13 reasons why an intelligent, strong, talented 17 year old decided to take her own life. If only one, just one of her friends had done something differently, she would have still been with them. What if any of my friends are struggling and I don’t know about it? How will I know? How can I know? I hope they know they can always come to me. They need to know they can come to me for help.

Bullying in your teens, a trauma you carry with you your whole life. Bullying as an adult, different, but equally painful. Bullying, any form can crush your very soul.

I get why you did it Hannah Baker. Sometimes you feel is the only solution, the only thing that will make the pain stop. I wish you knew you were never alone…

Will I die alone? Maybe I will. It’s very likely. ‘You are too fussy’. I don’t want to die alone.

Why am I thinking all of this?

And why am I thinking all of this in English? Why can’t I do it in Greek?

STOP!!!

I promise you, you’ll be OK. You got this.

You are doing awesome. You are better than ever.

I know you feel you were stuck all this time but you’ve been moving. You just didn’t realise my darling. You are now debt-free, you are volunteering for a charity, you are making new friends every day. You’ve been moving all along my dear.

Now get out of bed and call the bank. Repay your loan, get ready for work and go!

Overthinking. My best friend. And worst enemy. Thank God for yoga and my friends, especially Chris, keeping me sane, although I just realised if you are reading this you may think I’m insane.

I’m not. One thing I’m still sure of.

As of today I’m debt free. As of today I’m free to do anything I want. I just need to figure out what it is that I want. Liberating… and terrifying. It makes me smile though…

Namaste

Eleni

How anxiety feels like…

June 2014

I woke up soaking wet in sweat, it happens a lot lately…

I’m flying home today, after 4 years, is that true? It can’t be true. I’m excited but paralysed of fear. Nervous, shaking, I feel I’ll throw up any minute now. ‘What if the plane crashes?’, ‘What if my head explodes?’, ‘What if I have an infection and my appendix blows up on the plane?’ The beast has awaken once more…

I used to love flying. Absolutely adored it. And now, now I’m dreading it so much I may faint at any point on my way to the airport.

I was to fly home with my ex-boyfriend. We were together for 5 years and he hasn’t visited my home country yet. I’ve booked a hotel in Paphos and planned daytrips to show him around. But his passport got washed by accident, he needed a new one, the Greek Embassy in London is ridiculously horrible blah blah blah. I don’t think he ever had any desire to come with me anyway…

I still really wanted to go despite my severe anxiety attacks and my extremely, hit rock bottom confidence. I’ve put on weight, I was unhappy, I hated my body, my daily routine, I hated myself. Costas and I argued a lot, I rarely felt appreciated and although I told him about my troubles he couldn’t help me. He was dealing with depression himself.

I did well to hide it from my family and my friends. I smiled, I joked as if everything was OK. But inside. Inside, the pain was real. I struggled almost every day, I was scared to do anything and my anxiety also developed to hypochondria. I often diagnosed myself with cancer. The pain was not just mental, it was physical. My breast hurt, my teeth hurt, my head hurt, everything hurt. My mind made my body hurt to convince me I was gravely ill.

That’s what anxiety does to you. It blurs your mind. It turns simple daily tasks into a nightmare, it makes you paranoid, it makes you scared to leave the room. It’s painful. Your head, your brain, your mind hurts. Everything hurts. It’s noisy, never quiet in there and that drains you. It sucks the life out of you.

But I made it. I made it home. And I ended up staying three weeks instead of two and had the best time ever. A friend’s wedding, my sister’s birthday, days at the beach, daytrips around the island, my sister and her friend taking part in a TV music show, severe sunburn. A three week ray of sunshine in my grey, miserable life.

That was the very first time I realised I was in a dead end relationship and I also needed help. But right now the only one who could really help me was myself. Or I thought that nobody else would because I did not want to ask for help from anyone. ‘Who can I ask? I don’t have any close friends in Southampton and I don’t want to worry my family or my friends.’

After I went back I was in tears daily, fighting with my worst enemy, myself to put these irrational thoughts aside and get out of this dark hole.

And I made it. I joined the workplace choir, I started exercising and improved my diet and I later joined SingNow choir which was a turning point for me. I met my best friend, my Sheba, I’ve made great friends and that’s what opened my eyes to the beauty and love I missed out of for years because I was told to ‘be careful what you tell others about us’, ‘lose weight’, ‘you can’t do this’, ‘that’s not good enough’.

I still had bad days.

Anxiety and depression never go away. They are always there at the back of your mind and they make their appearance again when you least expect it, when you are already down on your knees, crying your eyes out, because life got too much again…

After the breakup and my aunt’s death I was in denial and avoided even the tiniest opportunity to deal with the demons that tormented me for years. I was out all the time, drinking, travelling, avoiding any time with myself. I was not used to being on my own, let alone on my own with two of my least favourite friends residing in my brain.

It finally caught up with me about a year ago. It slowly started in November but it reached its worst point in January. I couldn’t eat, I didn’t want to go out, I didn’t want to see anyone. I quit SingNow and stopped going to the workplace choir, I turned down any invitations from friends. I isolated myself from everyone. Although I was scared. Terrified. Daily things stressed the hell out of me, getting dressed, making dinner. I often skipped eating completely. I was not hungry anyway.

‘What if I die? Nobody will miss me. At least it will put an end to this pain.’

After I’ve written about it, I pushed, no, I forced myself to get out of it. I slowly crawled out of the hole, towards the light… I re-joined the workplace choir and I went home for a week in April which helped immensely. I didn’t have to worry about trivial things I worried when I was on my own, like ‘Have I left the iron on?’, ‘What if someone breaks in whilst I’m asleep alone at home?’ (I lived on the third floor, highly unlikely).

I decided to take part in the One Sound show, although I still suffered from anxiety attacks. It was different this time around. The year before I was excited and I couldn’t wait, the pros of the denial stage, you feel fearless… for a while.. but this time I was terrified. I cried when I went home after the big rehearsal. Seeing my SingNow friends after months, hugging me, asking me how I was, it was so overwhelmingly beautiful. I was worried even going to the rehearsal, thinking they may hate me.

The show was incredible although I struggled the whole time. I smiled but in my head the noise was louder than the noise of 300 choir singers backstage. Deafening.

I now feel much better. With the help of my incredible, loving, caring colleagues, friends and family but mostly myself I made it to the other side.

There are still times or days I panic and worry about the most meaningless, little things or I feel down but I now know how to help myself get out of it. I know how to cope with it because I never want to hit rock bottom again.

Writing about it, music, yoga, mindfulness, finally loving and accepting myself, talking through it and lots of love from my nearest and dearest are my remedies.

Asking for help and sharing your irrational, crazy or unbelievably sad and depressing thoughts it’s not easy, it may well be the hardest thing of all to do, but it’s the most liberating feeling I’ve ever experienced.

Next time you see someone smile or laugh, do not assume they are OK. They may be fighting a demon inside… This is a snap of me from 2014, at my worst. Would anyone guess from this what was happening in my fucked up mind?

I hope one day mental illness is taken as seriously as any other illness and nobody is ashamed or scared to share their story.

Namaste

Eleni

Nothing stays the same and nothing changes… (part 2)

Thursday afternoon…

I’m ready. I put my Spotify on and After all comes up first… ‘tou tou tou tou tou tou...After all I really love you‘. I smile. I loved this song since the first moment I heard it, when a friend sent it to me a while ago. It never fails to cheer me up.

I packed all I need and waiting for the little one to pick me up. First stop, her Italian oral exam. Somehow half an hour later I find myself sitting with her and her course mate in the classroom. Stefano invited me in, I smiled and nodded. What a lovely man. Funky yellow trousers, cool glasses, a sweet, polite voice.

I’m surprised how much Italian I remember. I’m so proud of my little sis and her classmate. They did brilliantly.

I chat to a couple of her classmates afterwards, nervously waiting outside. I wish I could tell them that none of this really matters… Enjoy your life little ones and don’t worry about exams. But would have I listened if I was told that ten years ago when I was in their shoes?

Now… what should I have for dinner on Tuesday when I arrive back in Southampton late and exhausted? What about moving? What if I don’t find a place and have nowhere to stay, what if the agency messes up me and I have to stay another two months? (Cold sweat…) Stop it! Focus!

Now the exam is over it’s time to head to the theatre for a final rehearsal and the show.

There’s no signal in the theatre and I can’t use my phone. That’s for the best. It can be my worst distraction sometimes…

A few hours later…

Tickets sorted, all ready, it’s showtime!

It all went well minus a couple of hiccups. I feel bad I didn’t recognise the Vice Chancellor straight away. I’ve only seen a photo of him the day before and there was a mess up with the tickets… I didn’t instantly figure it out. But all well.

I’m so proud for my little sister and everyone involved in the musical. None of them is a professional singer or an actor but they put together a brilliant show. Now, let’s help pack, tidy up and go home…

I can’t unlock the car, why can’t I unlock the car?

I knew it! The long beep I’ve heard earlier when we were rushing out of the car was the lights. I told her. She thought it was the door…

Now it’s half past midnight and other than one more person, who didn’t have any equipment to help us start jump the car anyway there’s no one else left at the car park.

After about an hour, we are finally home. A friend came to the rescue and it all ended well. God I’m exhausted…

Friday noon…

I finally got some sleep. I still feel drained but there’s no rest for the wicked.

The little sis and I pop to the shops for some essentials. The guy at the newsagents starts a conversation… Surprised, I stare for a second and then I remember where I am and how people are different here. I smile and make a joke. I’ve adapted again, a couple of days before I’m about to leave…

Friday afternoon…

I’m meeting two of my oldest best friends. We’ve known each other since high school. We haven’t changed much, other than carrying our bruises and scars of the last 18 years, hopeful but more realistic and scared to dream as big…

And… a lovely surprise! A friend I haven’t seen for ten years, a friend I spent endless evenings just driving around town with, nights out and days at the beach as a naive and careless 20 year old. So happy to see him. He looks exactly the same. He talks exactly the same, strikingly honest as always but he as well more mature and pragmatic about life.

Saturday morning…

This is the only time during my short visit the five of us are all together and it’s hilariously chaotic as always. We go for a walk at the beach, still a bit too cold for a swim but perfect for a Saturday stroll and lunch. I can’t stop humming ‘tell me how to be in this world, tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt’…

I cherish these rare moments, that’s what they are nowadays, rare and they will get rarer the older we get.

It’s funny how as a teen, even a young 20 year old, we dread family time with our parents and our siblings but the older we get, the more we realise the fragility of life and how thing may change at any minute, the more we appreciate the sacrifices they made and still make for us, their selfless love and the only thing they want in return is for us to be happy and spend time with them…

Saturday afternoon…

I finally get to see the only best friend I couldn’t see at Christmas. We sit at a cafe for hours chatting, with a coffee in hand, like we used to back at uni.

A few hours later we are having beers right next to the Faneromeni church with her fiance, his brother and my sister. It feels like a scene from Boyhood… but a few years later, now some 30 year olds who’ve known each other for years, sitting at a bar, just outside one of the oldest churches in Nicosia, having a beer, still troubled and desperate seeking the meaning of life whilst reminiscing… What a beautiful, surreal way to end the day.

Sunday noon…

No matter what you have planned for the day, there is always time for a cup of coffee and almost always the company grows at the last minute.

Sunday afternoon…

After some shopping and… a coffee with friends and sisters it’s time for my godson’s belated birthday. I’m so happy I’ve been to his first birthday last year and now his second. He’s grown so much and every time I see him our bond is getting stronger and stronger…

Pappou Costa and my aunties are here, my cousin’s little angels and her husband and relatives are here. I enjoy every moment, despite the mayhem and the noise, it actually somehow makes it better…

Monday noon…

I’m sitting at the Uni’s cafe with my mum. I’m on my laptop writing a post, the first part of this blog and she is knitting rosaries. It’s quiet, peaceful…It has just rained but the sun is out again. It never stays away for long on this island…

Monday afternoon…

I take the little sister on an educational trip down old Nicosia. I’m surprised how little she knows about the island’s history but I’m glad I’m teaching her what I’ve known for years… Up the Siakolas tower for a panoramic view of the city, one of the few spots you can see over ‘the other side’ without having to show your passport to cross the green line, the only divided capital in the world, down the old town, the Archbishop’s place that was half burned during the coup in 1974, the house of the dragoman Hadjigeorgakis Kornesios who, although working with the Turks, secretly helped his fellow Greek Cypriots in the 1800’s, when the country where under the Ottoman empire…

Tuesday morning…

My throat feels sore… typical. I’m getting a cold just as I’m about to leave. I try not to think about it.

I say goodbye to the family and this little man…

and my sister drops me off at the airport. I think I prefer it to just get dropped off rather than saying goodbye to my sisters and my mum to the gate. Still emotional but makes it easier to leave.

Time to go back, but I feel I needed a few more days… to tackle my overthinking… Remember, one day at a time…

Remember… nothing stays the same and nothing changes…

Remember… you got this…

Namaste

Eleni