death – Lessons I learned after I turned 30

The One I turn 36 (Thoughts on Growing Older)

Thursday evening, the 12th of May, 2022.

The second Eurovision semifinal is playing in the background, whilst I lie on my hotel bed, trying to gather my thoughts and feelings. I still couldn’t believe how these series of coincidences brought me back to Southampton, after three years, since I left. It feels like a lifetime ago and at the same time, like yesterday.

I had finished my work meeting a bit early and after a bit of wander into the city I spent 10 years of my life, probably the most transformative years of my life, my 20s, exhausted from the travel the night before, came back to the hotel, had a shower and decided to just rest.

It’s been months since the last time I decided to ‘just rest’, it’s been so long I can’t even remember when the last time that happened was.

The following day I just wandered in town, at my favourite bookshop, walking across the park and for the first time in a while I felt I didn’t have to rush. I just enjoyed doing things I love. I felt I could breathe again.

I’ve realised that for a while now, I have been running around like a headless chicken for so long, I neglected my mental health, which of course has affected my physical health. Headaches, sleepiness, confusion, memory lapses, loss of appetite.

I really don’t understand how being busy became an achievement and something everyone loves to complain about. It’s not an achievement, it’s a sign of no life balance (Trust me, it’s OK to relax and rest for a day or too, rather than feel you have to do something, just because others do. FOMO is an artificial need created by humans, like many others).

And I feel I lost that balance ever since I left this city. I spent Saturday just catching up with friends, and enjoying living in the moment. Moments with old colleagues and loved ones. I instantly felt how much I missed them. How not to, with all the wonderful humans I know. I wish I had more time to see more of my friends.

Lately all I can think of is what the point of life is. Every now and then I get this horrific anxiety and fear about living and dying and the in-between.

What is the meaning of life? What is my purpose? Why do I exist?

I read a few books and had countless discussions with friends trying to figure out the answers to these questions, just to calm my brain down and the irrational (or rational? I haven’t decided yet) fear of dying.

As Derren Brown, eloquently argues in his book about happiness , if we were to live for ever, we would have eventually be bored of everything, and life would have no meaning. So, what is the purpose of life?

Happiness is amazing. It’s so amazing it doesn’t matter if it’s yours or not. There’s that lovely thing: “A society grows great when old men plant trees the shade of which they know they will never sit in”. Good people do things for other people. That’s it. The end. Anne told Tony on Ricky Gervais’ brilliant series After Life, which is about a man triyng to deal with the death of his wife whom he absolutely adored.

Maybe that’s the meaning of life? Do good things for other people, make the world a better place. It’s all about finding purpose in life. That’s what i remember from a little witty book I read on philosophical theories about life meaning (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24612009-every-time-i-find-the-meaning-of-life-they-change-it).

But even when you find your purpose, and to do that you inevitably need to work on your emotional intelligence, your self-awareness, realising who you are, loving yourself, self management and above else empathy, growing up it’s scary as hell.

My parents are now in their late 50s and 60s and I’m terrified for them, watching them grow older. I want them to live forever. It tears me apart. I’m thinking that maybe is better to stick around now they are growing older and they may need me more, but on the other hand what if I finally find my purpose and that takes me elsewhere, away from them?

It makes me sad thinking that they may find themselves feeling lonely and helpless. And I certainly want to try and enjoy being around them as much as I can before they start forgetting and get that lost look in their eyes (I only recently watched the latest episode of This Is Us and the scene where Rebecca doesn’t recognise her children broke my heart).

So on my birthday, a week after I came back from Southampton, I spent the day with my family and loved ones and I cherished every moment.

When thinking about life, mortality and growing old stresses me out, I just focus in the moment, taking one day at a time, spending time with loved ones and I try to make the world a better place, little by little. When my time comes to go, at least I’ll go happy and not anxious and horrified.

The reason I’m sharing all these thoughts, it’s that I know they are not unique and actually expressing them out loud, or in this case in words, somehow makes them more bearable. And perhaps you can relate, and feel a bit of a relief that these terrifying thoughts haunt not just you but a lot of other people.

Namaste

Eleni

I won’t know where I’m going if I don’t know where I am…

A few days ago, I woke up in a sweat, tears streaming down my face, in the middle of the night. I saw my uncle Spyro in my dream, he looked so alive and healthy but he was sad. He knew he was going to die and I was painfully aware he was already dead. It took me a few seconds to realise where I was. I’m in Italy. How on earth all of this happened in just few months?

That’s when it hit me.

I have no idea what is going on. Not a clue. Now that the dust has settled and I’m getting into a routine, a routine I’m not familiar with and not quite sure how it should be, teaching English in a foreign country is brand new to me, I’m making time for myself to reflect, to make sense of what has happened in the last few months.

I don’t know where to start and how to end this post but here it goes.

I still sometimes feel I’m on a long, albeit random and bizarre holiday and I’ll be returning to the UK anytime now. I don’t miss my job, or the grey weather, OK I do miss British autumn, golden leaves across the park, hot chocolate at Mettricks, reading a book or watching silly TV on a Saturday afternoon with a blanket, a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits whilst pouring down with rain outside, but other than that I don’t miss the UK.

I miss things from the UK, the convenience of it all (Amazon Prime aaah), actual little daily things like decent tea, Hobnobs and Chocolate Digestives, but most of all I miss my friends, my dear friends. Not that I don’t love my new colleagues and friends I’ve made already, but I miss my people.

So far I’ve enjoyed working as an EFL teacher. But is this the career I’d like to follow?

I don’t know, I genuinely don’t. I don’t even know if I’m any good at it. I’ll soon get feedback from my managers after they observe me but for now I’m doing what I think best.

Of course if I decide that’s not what I’d like to do long-term I can change careers again, but to do what?

For now I’ll give it time and not think that far ahead, but it’s always at the back of my mind.

I’m strangely not stressed or too anxious, not as much as I expected I’d be. Being one of the oldest teachers and having lived life already comes with its perks I guess. I do sometimes feel I let the rest of them down when I’m too tired or too ill or too old (in a ‘been there, done that’ sense) to follow them in some of their excursions.

It’s still unclear in my head whether I pursued this so fast to not disappoint my tutors who gave me a Grade A or to avoid dealing with my grandpa and my uncle’s deaths, I feel I haven’t processed still what has happened.

I remember the last time I was at my grandpa’s house, where my auntie now lives alone, without pappou Costa or theio Spyro and I caught myself waiting for them to show up. A horrible, sad realisation they will not ever again.

I also feel terrible guilt. I feel guilty I didn’t give my home, Cyprus more time. I was so occupied worrying not to get stuck I left after just a month. I didn’t travel across the island, I didn’t see all my friends and family. I needed an escape and ended up changing my plans at the very last minute.

I know deep in my heart I made the right decision leaving my job and leaving the UK. I’m not sure I made the right decision rushing into my first ELT job, but time will show.

For now I need to find myself again, I have felt the black cloud of depression getting closer over the last week and I desperately want to keep it away.

I need my remedies, my writing (which I’ve done a lot, this terrible cold I can’t shake off did me good in other ways), my Yoga- God I miss Adriene-, my guitar- God I miss my guitar-, and I need to feel like myself because at the moment… (I couldn’t have described it better than Wind and the Wave’s Lost)

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

Eleni

Lovely Ray

‘In my experience, Kevin, there’s no such thing as ‘a long time ago.’ There are only memories that mean something and memories that don’t.’

On a late summer Wednesday eve in 2015, this tall, charming gentleman walked in the SingNow rehearsal room. I remember sitting next to him, chatting before we even started the session. He made me laugh from the first moment we met with his frankness.

His name was Ray.

As per Jack’s tradition, whenever someone new joins the group they introduce themselves and tell us something we wouldn’t know about them. He was 80 years old. We were all in shock, we would have never guessed.

His wife of sixty years, the love of his life, Bet had died recently and he missed her terribly. He hated being on his own and thought he’d give our choir a go.

Little did he know then how much he would love it, how much we would love him.

About a year and a half later I left SingNow and I’d only see Ray at SingNow gigs I now occasionally went as a fan or One Sound, our ever so growing choir collaboration show.

But for that year and a half we had a chat and a laugh every week. He’d always make me feel good about myself, compliment me, remind me to live my life and not dwell on things. He was a reminder himself. In his 80s he was more active than most of us. He played tennis, had tea parties with his neighbours, he got out and about.

He didn’t miss a single performance. Always smartly dressed, he sang in the rain at Music in the City, Fareham, Guildhall Square.

Ray was one of a kind. Funny, witty, shockingly honest, charming, sweet and always a gentleman. I used to refer to him as lovely Ray. Because he really was.

He’d chat to everyone, he’d be friends with everyone, he’d help anyone.

I’ll never forget a warm Sunday afternoon after a SingNow gig was cancelled at the last minute and Claire, Les, Alison and I went to Ray’s for a cuppa and cake. He lived in a beautiful bungalow, bursting with vintage furniture, floral wallpapers, character. It was so pretty Claire and I joked we’d move in with him. After giving us a little tour of the house, we went through the double doors out to the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen in real life.

‘My wife used to take care of it. But now she’s gone I can’t keep up with it…’

He were to move to a retirement flat soon.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BGjmEiMFmJq/?taken-by=elenis_world

The last time I sang with Ray and SingNow was on an autumn Saturday afternoon, at Mountbatten Hospice. It was a special one for many of us. It brought up memories of my aunt I lost a year earlier to cancer, she was moved into hospice for a while before she did, others had relatives who spent their last days there. What an unsettling… serene place it is.

I last saw Ray at One Sound, two months ago.

We had just finished the show and on my way home, there he was, smiling. We had a quick chat, gave me a kiss and a hug and said goodnight.

Friday, 8th of June 2018.

I’m at Test Valley Crematorium. The chapel is packed. Of course it is. Ray was loved by everyone he met.

I wonder if I’d have so many people at my funeral. I doubt it…I’m no Ray. Nowhere near Ray.

Ray died peacefully… and unexpectedly three weeks ago. When I told Donna and Matt about it, they remembered lovely Ray, although they’ve never met him. That’s how wonderful he was. People liked him just from hearing about him.

Is it worse than he died unexpectedly? We were not prepared. As much as one can prepare for this. We didn’t have the chance to say goodbye. To tell him how much we loved him. To have a last giggle, to see his smile again.

This very thought terrifies me and I break out in a cold sweat. You’ll never know when is the last time… What if I die? What if a friend dies? Or family? Some of my friends I haven’t seen for months. There is so much I want to say to everyone… Oh my lord…

Is it better? He didn’t suffer for months, or years. He was not stuck in a hospital bed, depending on others to take care of him, slowly and painfully falling apart…

I don’t know what to expect. I’ve never been to a funeral in this country before so on our way there I ask Fraser to give me an idea of how it’d be like.

I feel a bit underdressed. The family requested no black (except the choir peeps who dressed in the SingNow black and orange colours) and I wore the only clean clothes I had that were no black.

I stand at the back with my old SingNow friends. I’m desperately trying not to cry.

Ray wouldn’t have liked that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see something that shocks me. The date of his death on the funeral program. 21st of May, 2018.

But he died on a Saturday, He didn’t die on my birthday did he? Did he? What does that mean?

I see Pat welling up and tears are streaming down my face. I can somehow manage to control them. I sing along to the Hymn although I have no idea how the melody goes.

It was a beautiful service, a celebration of his amazing life. His family gave wonderful tributes to Ray. I cried and laughed with my old SingNow pals.

The ceremony ended with the Lord’s Prayer.

I didn’t realise until half way through that’s ‘Πάτερ Ημών’. I pray along, but in ancient Greek. I haven’t said it out loud in years. I can’t even remember the last time.

Since I’ve never been to a funeral in the UK, I didn’t know that I wouldn’t get to see Ray again.

The last and most painful but cathartic part of a Greek Orthodox funeral is saying goodbye to the deceased one last time. (None of the words used to describe death ever feels right).

It didn’t happen but attending his funeral still helped with closure.

I wish my parents let me go at my giagia Stella’s funeral 23 years ago. It’s already excruciatingly painful when a loved one dies, the brain struggles to cope, to understand that you’ll never see, hear, touch that person ever again and being there, at the funeral, saying goodbye, seeing them with your own eyes lie there, in the coffin, which weirdly seems comfortable, looking so peaceful, almost grinning, that’s what you need to help you make sense of it (as much as possible). Of death. Of mortality. The surrealism of it all.

Chris gives me a lift back to Southampton. We talked about loved ones we lost, we get emotional, we laugh. She is amazing. I hope she knows that. I wish I told her.

Ray was buried in his favourite black and orange SingNow clothes. That’s how he’d have wanted to. That’s how much he loved it.

I still can’t believe I’ll never see him again. I’m sad but so happy I had the great pleasure of knowing the lovely Ray Dyball.

I bet he is having a glass of gin and giggles with Bet right now.

You may rest in peace Mr Dyball.

Amen

Eleni

Wild Mushroom Ravioli, Gyro, Snowmageddon and being brave

Sunday early afternoon…

I’m sitting at one of my favourite little cafes in Southampton, The Docks Coffee house with a hot cup of Americano and a delish fruit loaf served in cute, vintage cutlery.

I enjoy writing in random places, other than home but I don’t get much free time to do it. Last time it was way back in July, when I ventured to Mettricks on a warm, summery Sunday afternoon to write about Awakenings, one of the most interesting books I’ve ever read.

Back then I was terrified to go sit at a cafe on my own, I was still struggling with depression and I found it a little bit overwhelming, maybe because it was busy and loud, normal, everyday situations that could cause a panic attack when you are dealing with depression and anxiety.

But today I feel better than ever, I love sitting on this cosy comfy armchair writing and people watching.

Sunday blogs…

I don’t normally post on specific days, it all depends when I get the time and if I feel like it, but over the last couple of weeks I love reflecting back on each week, especially since the last month or so has been really busy I don’t get time to stop, wait a minute (terrible UpTown funk pun) and think of what happened every day. I try to break habits because I hate routine but I grew to love my Sunday posts and I hope to keep up with it.

Last week of February

On Sunday, after posting my last blog on Life, Death and Everything Between I made a delicious, healthy dinner to help me kick off the week on the right foot. Et voila (my new obsession: Courgette spaghetti).

Monday, not fun day

But the next morning I was just not feeling it. I felt drained emotionally and physically. Sad news and tiredness took its toll. One of those Mondays as I phrased it on the day

My momma Donna was already on the case, she knew how to cheer me up. She got me a cute little Happinness Journal so I can write what made me smile every day and remind myself to enjoy the little things and that life it’s still beautiful no matter what. Thank you Donna.

Tuesday- the first Snow

Tuesday was so busy I didn’t get to have my first cup of coffee until 10:30am, I was late for singing and the whole day felt like a blur. One of the very few things I remember was all the hugs, from Dan, Helen, Emma and other lovely humans and the snow blizzard which unfortunately only lasted for 10 minutes (who would have thought the University would be closed a few days later due to snowstorm). In the evening some colleagues (I loved all the food convos with Denise, Fraser and Chris, I had to mention it) and I went for a drink to say goodbye to our lovely colleague Peter who left Solent to go travelling. I love our kitchen chats, talking about travelling and photography. Peter if you are reading this, I hope you have an amazing time in Cape Verde and see you soon!

Wednesday- Glorious food and glorious show

Wednesday was a long long, busy day again but it turned into the most amazing evening I had in a while, A finger-licking three course meal at Soleto (including the most delicious Wild Mushroom Ravioli I’ve ever tasted, no exaggeration) a gorgeous little Italian opposite the Mayflower followed by Miss Saigon, one of the best shows I’ve seen at the Mayflower so far. More on that including lots of snaps here. (But here’s the dinner we had).

Baked Camembert with Garlic and Rosemary. Toasted Ciabatta and Chilli and Onion Chutney

Thursday- Snow is falling… and some Gyros

On Thursday, Snowmageddon struck. I woke up to a white blanket covering everything. But our lunch plans with Jamie were to go ahead. We’ve been meaning to go for lunch for a long time and we were to try the Greek restaurant Lemoni, we wouldn’t let the snow ruin our plans.

I missed Greek food and I was seriously craving it for a while so I enjoyed my Gyro in Cypriot pitta to the point I’ve actually finished it. I rarely manage to but the cold and my cravings had something to do with it… We also shared a scrummy feta baked in Filo pastry sprinkled with honey and sesame seeds, Jamie loved it so much he wants to learn how to make it.

After lunch we were told we could go home. I could not believe it! I’ve been to Southampton for almost 8 years now, we were never sent home because of snow. It felt I was living somewhere in Siberia. It took me 20 minutes to walk back home because of inappropriate footwear, it’s a miracle how I didn’t fall on my face, but I weirdly enjoyed it. It felt like being in a fairytale.

I spent the rest of my afternoon catching up with my friends back home and I loved every minute.

What I didn’t expect was:

Friday Snowday… and being brave

Yes, the University was closed! So it was not safe to walk outside, it was freezing and I was to spend the day at home. Under other circumstances I wouldn’t mind at all. But because I couldn’t go out, I got cabin fever by the end of the day. The mind works in mysterious ways always wanting what it can’t have and undervaluing what it already has…

So what to do? I facetimed my little sis, I booked my ticket home in May (yeay) and then inspired by Donna’s gift I booked ticket and a gorgeous AirBnb in Bordeaux, MY FIRST EVER SOLO TRIP (double yeay!). I’m incredibly excited and a little scared but I cannot wait!

What I learned the last couple of weeks is that life is too short and I want to do more of the things I really want to but I’m scared of. And going on my first trip alone is the first step.

Saturday- Finally out

On Saturday I got up early for a change. I was desperate to get out of the house so I woke up at 9, did all the boring chores one must do to remain a semi-responsible adult and got out! I did my essentials shopping and I finally ordered new glasses, wait until you see ‘Smart looking Eleni’ with my fancy new reading glasses.

In the evening I did what I’ve been doing when I get some free time, binge watching Parks and Recreation, one of the best, funniest shows I’ve ever watched. Thank you to Jamie for recommending it and Sarah and Pat for all the fun we have talking about it.

Looking back, it’s been an incredible week.

Here’s to March, it’s looking good already…

Namaste

Eleni

PS. Happy birthday CHRIS!!!! Thank you for being an incredible friend and all round good egg x

Two years later…

Two years on this day…

I wasn’t sure whether to post today or not. I’ve been feeling emotional already the last couple of days but today was harder than normal.

But today is not about what happened that day. You can see my previous posts here. Today is about reflecting on what I learned and how I changed over the last two years.

For the last few days I’ve been contemplating about my life so far and what it’ll be better to do next. I’m craving change and I know for sure I want a new job, but should I move to another city? Another country? Another continent?

Change is scary, even when you desperately want it. I’m scared I might make the wrong choices. And I’m even more scared but also relieved it’s just me I need to think about.

I sometimes fall into this hole, comparing myself to others at my age who achieved much more, they travelled more, they’ve done more, they have a better job, more money and so on.

I loved my Uni years and I wouldn’t change those for anything, but I feel I wasted the rest of my 20s paralysed by insecurities and fears, stuck in an unhealthy relationship that left me with confidence issues. I can’t change my past, so there is no point thinking like that whatsoever, but sometimes I can’t help it.

What shook me to the core was my aunt’s death. That was my wake-up call. That reminded me how short life is and how unhappy I was with my then life.

Two years later, I sometimes I feel I haven’t achieved much (the annoying inner voice taking over) but then I take a second and think of what I have achieved so far, how I managed to finally travel more, Edinburgh, Berlin, Rome, Florence, how I now go home at least twice a year, which is essential for my mental wellbeing, how I became a godmother to my gorgeous Prince, how I learned to live on my own, the first time I almost burnt the whole place down because I forgot the pot on the hob for too long and the water evaporated, the first time I forgot to lock the doors, the first time I had to fix the car on my own, the first time I sold a car (God I miss my Indigo), the first time I had so little money left I could only afford food…, the first time I could afford a proper holiday, the first time I posted a blog, the first time I posted a video of me singing badly to Kodaline, the first time I went to the cinema on my own to watch a Louis Theroux documentary, the first time I finally opened up about my struggles and depression and many many more firsts…

Although I go through a confidence crisis every now and then, sometimes triggered by the smallest thing (I know is silly but that’s how the brain f***s you up, cognitive distortions), I’m very proud of how far I’ve come and if anyone thinks less of me then that’s their problem. Rejection is not easy to digest but as with everything, you learn how to cope and overcome it.

I go through my older posts from time to time and I can see how my writing and I as a person matured since I started this blog.

I’d probably be stuck in a horribly boring and miserable life if it wasn’t for my loving, selfless, brave, sweet, incredibly intelligent, kind aunt and her horrible but noble fight until the very end.

Reading her eulogy at her funeral in front of a church full of people who knew and loved her is the hardest thing I ever had to do in my entire life but also one of the most proud moments of my life so far.

One of the many gems I kept from the incredible Derren Brown’s book Happy was that a person really dies when the last person who remembers them dies too. What a sweet, beautiful notion.

We all love her and she will always live through us. Through her children, her grandchildren, her brother and sisters, her dad, my dearest pappou and all of us.

I’m overwhelmingly proud of my cousin Georgia, my aunt’s daughter, and her seven children and all of the family on how amazingly they did the last two years. We’ve been through a lot as a family but we are closer than ever. I love you all to the moon and back.

I’m always amazed by how we humans cope and bounce back from whatever life throws at us.

I’ve learned from my past and thanks to my aunt I’ve made my present and hopefully my future much better.

So here’s to the present and the future. May be better and brighter, full of laughter and incredible moments.

Rest in peace dear aunt Anna.

Eleni