depression – Lessons I learned after I turned 30

Mental Health Mondays – 3. My friend Alexei

Today I want to talk to you about my friend Alexei.

We met back in 2019, on a cool October morning. I had just moved to Reggio Calabria, in South Italy working as an EFL (English as a Foreign Language) teacher and I spent my morning lesson planning, then Alexei walked in. I still remember the first time I heard his beautiful, deep voice and Southern African accent, and I saw his wide smile.

Alexei had an infectious laughter and a unique, wicked sense of humour. He loved sarcasm and self-depracating humour. Although he was raised in South Africa, his parents were also Greek and he spoke a bit of Greek too. He loved and cared about everyone around him, one of the most empathetic people I’ve met. We connected straight away.

Despite a global pandemic forcing us to spend half of our teaching year indoors and online we managed to make unforgettable memories together like our long weekend in Palermo, wandering around, shopping, drinking, having a laugh and chatting about life, our random pizza dinners in town, co-presenting quiz night, our beach day in Tropea with the rest of the Reggio gang and many, many more little, every day interactions.

We never made it to Taormina or Pentadattilo together before leaving Reggio like we said we would, but he promised to visit me in Cyprus soon.

We messaged each other every now and then but we hadn’t chatted for about a year. Last time we spoke he was really happy with his new job and life in Vienna.

Suddenly, 5 days ago I saw a Facebook post about Alexei, that I still cannot believe.

He died a few weeks ago. He took his own life.

It breaks my heart to think how horrible and lonely it must have been for him. He cared deeply for so many people and we would all have supported him if he had just reached out. I also feel incredibly guilty I let life get in the way and we lost touch for a while.

Depression kills, and even more so amongst men, since society taught them since they were children that sharing their feelings somehow make them look ‘weak’. Alexei had no issue expressing his feelings and his struggles, he was always open about his life, his sexuality and his frustrations, which makes it even harder to believe he kept all this struggle for hismel and reached a point that life was so unbearable for him that he didn’t want to live anymore.

The reason I’m sharing this story is to remind myself and everyone else to keep in touch and check in with our friends and loved ones regularly and please please, if you are struggling, tell someone, you don’t have to go through it alone.

Alexei’s death was incredibly sad and painful for all of us who knew him and we’ve been sharing photos and stories of Alexei with each other over the last week, because that’s how we’ll remember him, having a laugh together, hearing his beautiful laughter and picturing his gorgeous smile.

Ci vendiamo Alexei, we love you.

Eleni

This is me

This post is for everyone who might be finding looking for a job amidst the pandemic even more painful, demotivating and soul destroying than it normally is.

Rejection after rejection can make you question yourself, your abilities, your self worth and that’s when you need to remind yourself of all your achievements and what you’ve done so far. I’m quite confident myself especially when it comes to my professional experience and knowledge and I still doubt myself when I can’t find a job. So…

This is me

I speak English and Greek fluently, I guess you can say I’m bilingual as after 11 years speaking mostly in English has caused my brain to think in English first. I also speak a bit of Italian and Spanish.

I have a LOT of qualifications (BA in Psychology, MSc Research Methods in Psychology, Qualification in Occupational Psychology, Occupational Testing, PRINCE2 Foundation and Practitioner, Online marketing fundamentals, CELTA) and during my 12 year work experience so far I accumulated a number of skills and knowledge in varied areas e.g. data analysis, reporting, event planning, research, promotional campaigns, teaching English etc.

I also volunteered for charities and in my free time I write (on this very blog as well as my travel blog I recently started kopiastekopiaste.wordpress.com), I love photography, making videos and I know a bit about digital marketing.

It helps to remind myself how far I’ve come and noone and nothing can take away my skills, knowledge and achievements from me. Comparing myself to others can only make me feel worse, we don’t all have the same opportunities, financial support and flexibility. I did the best I could with what I had and I continue to do so.

I’d also like to think that the right job will come at the right time and everything will just work out. Whatever I end up doing next, it might not be what I’m looking for, but I’m sure I’ll learn from it as much as possible. I may have to wait a little longer than I thought though and that’s OK.

I’m still the same capable, confident, knowledgeable individual.

If anyone’s interested in hiring me I can conduct research, occupational testing, create content, write articles, translate, manage social media accounts, teach English and above all help others. I’d love to work for the UN one day!

If this post helps even one person who’s in a similar position, I’ll be over the moon. Feel free to share your ‘This is me’ story, I’d love to watch it.

I made a video with the longer version of the blog. If you make a video too, tag me in so I can watch and share 🙂

Stay safe and well, wear your mask and remember, it’s okay not to be okay.

Namaste

Eleni

Non parlo Italiano!

About two months ago…

I desperately needed a haircut. I couldn’t even look at my hair. Everything happened so fast I didn’t get the chance to have my hair cut before I moved to Italy and the last one I had was early in the summer in Southampton (I miss the UK so much more I dare to admit sometimes).

Of course it wasn’t about the hair. It was all about self care and I’d started neglecting myself, pretty dangerous for me, it lets the depression and severe anxiety demons creep in and slowly take over without me realising until is too late, so I had to get my hair cut. Urgently.

I’m not sure if you remember where I live now, it’s a small city where very few people you come across speak English, so even the thought of attempting to book an appointment I found intimidating.

But self-preservation prevailed and I wouldn’t let my very poor Italian get in the way. (My Italian hasn’t improved much since, in case you are wondering.)

If you asked me what the most common expression I’ve used so far during my first three months in Italy was, it’s not ‘scusi’, or ‘per favore’ but..

‘Non parlo Italiano’.

It’s my opening line most of the time. Oh no, I actually first speak in English, as I often forget they won’t understand me, then I notice the baffled expression on their face and I explain.

So here’s how I managed to get a (decent) haircut with minimal communication but plenty of awkwardness.

Eleni- ‘Hi, I’d like too…, oh sh**. Non parlo Italiano, parle Inglese?

Hairdresser- Mmmm, no… (waves at one of the other hairdressers who knows a bit of English apparently).

El- Taglio (cut). Pointing at my hair. ‘Un po’ (How the hell do you say ‘trim’ in Italian?)

H-Si. Quando? (Yes! Finally a word I know!)

El-Sabato, matina (morning)?

H– (After checking their appointment book). Mm, tredici? (1pm, Italians tend to follow the 24hr format).

E– Si, si, grazie!

Pheew. First step done. I managed to book an appointment!

Saturday (haircut day)

11pm

I couldn’t remember if the appointment was at 11am or 1pm. In my head numbers were mixed up the minute I left the hairdressers two day ago. Full time teaching does that to you, messing up your brain. So I went at 11am, just to check. The hairdressers burst into laughing. I thought I’d attempt to go food shopping since I got up anyway, but the supermarket was way too busy for my liking (Damn, I could have stayed in bed a little longer).

1pm

I walked in. I had no idea what to say or do. The place was full of customers chatting away. I felt paralysed, mute. I couldn’t let any words out. I didn’t know how to. I could understand some of the conversations but I couldn’t take part. A horrible feeling.

That’s how my students must feel… I kept thinking.

After about half an hour wait (which I was ‘lucky’ as quite often you wait way longer, I was told), I was summoned on the chair.

The stylist asked me how I wanted my hair. I managed to explain (thanks to Antonella, Elena and Google translate) that I just wanted a trim and layers but not too short.

I was terrified. What if she gives me a horrible haircut, what if I end up looking like a pencil?

Image result for fleabag i look like a pencil meme

We didn’t speak much after that. She couldn’t speak English, I couldn’t speak Italian. She made an effort, which I appreciated, she asked me if I was a student, thankfully I knew how to say ‘I’m an English teacher’. My second most used expression (‘insegnante di Inglese’).

An hour later and after a lot of miming and gesturing (and a few word exhanges partially thanks to similarities between Greek and Italian), I left the hairdressers relieved I didn’t look like a pencil, it was actually a decent haircut and cheap compared to UK prices (12 euros).

But it was the most awkward hairdresser’s experience I ever had. And kind of funny at the same time. I had a little giggle afterwards. It’s fascinating how we humans manage to communicate even when we don’t speak the same language, although sometimes we can’t communicate even if we do speak the same language. The irony.

A month later and I’m none the wiser when it comes to Italian. My timetable doesn’t allow me to attend Italian lessons anymore, though I’m still learning from my students, who feel incredibly proud judging by the huge smile on their face every time they teach me an Italian word.

I’m not sure I’d like to stay in (Southern) Italy after my contract ends, but one thing I discovered is that I love living somewhere I’ve never lived before, being thrown into the deep, learning how to… well how to adopt and survive in another country, another culture, another life. That’s something I definitely want more of.

For now, I’ll enjoy the rest of my stay at this little, odd town that is Reggio Calabria.

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

Just doing January

A glorious clear blue sky, with perfect views of the sun, the sea. Then suddenly a dark cloud appears, and another one, and a few seconds later, rain and thunderstorm.

The blue sky: my mind. The views: life, happiness, serenity. The clouds: the ‘not pleasant’ thoughts. The rain and thunderstorm: depression and anxiety.

A million of those thoughts racing in my mind. The terrifying realisation of growing older, ‘when will I do everything I want?’ What if something happens to my family?, worry how and whether I can afford a new job? braces? travelling?, worry for my current job, ‘what if I’m made redundant, or downgraded?’, worry there’s not enough time in a day to write, play my guitar, do my yoga, draw, read a book, do more volunteering, see a film, watch a play, try new things. What if I die tomorrow and I don’t get to do any of this??

My heart starts to beat faster and faster, my hands are sweating, I forget to breathe and then…

Disappointment, self-doubt, ‘maybe that’s just it, maybe I can’t do any more. Stuck in the same place for ever… ‘

And finally, the worst of it all. Numbness. Emptiness. At random, unexpected moments it feels as if I can’t shake away this, this feeling of vainness, as if my ability to feel happiness has been suddenly taken away.

January is tough for me. Christmas (which I love) is over but winter (which I don’t) is not, summer is still months away, we are all back to routine (I hate routine). It’s dark and bitterly cold which makes it harder to do things outside the house and all the reminders that another year is over are not helping.

Of course I know all this is is in my head. For me though it’s real. It’s not all the time or all together (sometimes it’s just the anxiety, or the depression) I can still have a laugh, enjoy some things but sometimes I can’t get out of this maze.

So at a time of the year that most start afresh and focus on their New Year resolutions, are doing Veganuary, Dry January, Red January, what do I do? I’m just doing January. Just things that keep my anxiety and depression from affecting my functionality. Just surviving for now.

I still have a wishlist of things I’d love to do, a bucket list (I prefer to tick off things off my bucket list rather than have resolutions) and I’m a great believer you can start something anytime of the year, for now though I just need to get through this month.

But it can’t just be me that feels that way. Actually, I know for a fact it’s not just me. I’ve spoken to friends who go through the same motions. I’ve seen posts on social media from others who are finding it hard to fight the blues.

If you, like me are struggling this January, here’s some of the things that help me, hopefully they may help you or they may help you find what works for you.

Music. Most of the day, every day. Indie, folk, rock, pop, depending on my mood. I wouldn’t survived without my Spotify playlist.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Nd3V0sBsGU9wQdTRaF8X9

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DoTtedPFyhc

Yoga. Whatever happens I always go back to Yoga with Adriene since I discovered it back in 2017. My favourite yoga lady. Her 30 day yoga revolution is now on, every day a new video, a new session. That half an hour, 40 minutes a day is sometimes the only time I manage to keep the invasive thoughts away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFrWtw7YNlA

Food. Healthy, delicious food with a few unhealthy treats a week, pizza on a Friday, lunch with friends. It’s all about balance. I loved this wholefood vegan burger from cafe Thrive yesterday.

Reading. At the moment I’m reading Matt Haig’s (whose autobiographical books on anxiety and depression are humbly and beautifully honest, amazing) Notes On A Nervous Planet. Highly recommend following him on Twitter.

Friends. The show and real friends. Watching Friends never fails to make me laugh. And time with my friends. Talking to friends and family keeps me connected to the real world, otherwise detachment may overstay its welcome.

What helps you? I’d love to know what’s worked for others so we can inspire one another.

OK, off to do my yoga and have a nice cup of tea.

Eleni

‘Help me’, the most honest self-help book on self-help books.

15th of October, a gloomy, rainy afternoon

It’s been raining all day, well, at least since 10am when I finally woke up and dragged myself out of bed. I made a cup of coffee and snuggled on my sofa with a blanket. Sunday Brunch was on. I love this show but only watched for a short while and then grubbed my book. Help Me, by Marianne Power.

Shebs recommended it- ‘You will love it!’ she said- and I got it a few weeks ago but it’s been such a busy 14 days I didn’t get the time to read much more than about 100 pages since I bought it.

But after the last two weeks I burned out. Mentally and physically. That’s what I do when I struggle. I keep myself busy all the time to avoid being with myself. And then I crush.

I couldn’t read this book at a more appropriate time. I could relate to it at so many levels, so incredibly honest, thought-provoking and at points sad and hilarious. Not many books made me cry and laugh. I finished it that afternoon. So what is it about?

It’s about the author’s year long adventure, a mid-thirties journalist living in London who despite doing what she loves for a living and wonderful friends and family, she is not happy. Excessive drinking and wasting any money she earns ending up in huge debt has not helped so she decides to take on a quest. She will try and follow to the letter a self-help book each month for a year.

And she did-ish. From Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway, the Secret (not many books I dislike as much as the Secret), Tony Robbins the 10-Day Tony Challenge (who I personally think is just a salesman, making false promises to vulnerable people for a very expensive price), Get the Guy by Matthew Hussey to Daring Greatly by Brene Brown (Brene’s TedX talk on vulnerability is just brilliant).

She tried it all, from juicing diets, to deliberately attempting to get rejected, to swimming in a freezing lake in January, Tony Robbin’s ridiculous conference to a week long ‘Fuck it’ workshop in Italy. It all started well but during this she alienated herself from her friends and family, she broke down many times and in the end?

In the end she learned one thing: the only one who can really help you is yourself. No self-help book would magically transform your life.

I’m not sure whether I loved it so much because I could surprisingly relate to most of it (I’d say probably all of it except the job bit, I’m still stuck to a job I don’t enjoy and took everything out of it I could possibly take), single, for similar reasons, dealing with all the mid-thirties chaotic dilemmas and anxieties.

Thank you Marianne. Thank you for sharing your story, being vulnerable and opening up about what it feels like to be stressed, depressed, worried, sad especially nowadays is incredibly brave but also liberating. That moment when you realise what you are going through is more common than you think, that others not only understand but also have been through this themselves, is just magical, is what connects all humans on another level.

And thank you for beautifully, honestly and accurately describing how the quest of meaning and happiness in this crazy world is not an easy ride but appreciating what you have, loving and taking care of yourself and others make it worthwhile.

‘But I see now that perfection does not exist and happiness comes not from getting what you think you want but from opening your eyes and recognising that you have everything you could possibly need right now’ Marianne Power

Eleni

Break

When you need to stop to take a breath,

when the world is too much, should I’ve stayed or left?

When you feel stuck and wonder, what the meaning of this is,

should I keep going or should I just exist?

Stop.

Take a deep breath.

Get lost in a book, forget all the rest.

In magical worlds, in fairy tales, with angels and devils.

In Wonderland.

It’s not a great poem, it may not rhyme,

but I truly hope I made you smile 🙂

Eleni

PS Thank you Solent University for my Waterstones £100 giftcard. The most wonderful gift at a much needed time.

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

Hanging… and reset

A dirty plate on the dressing table stool, an empty mug on the bedside table…

It’s almost 2pm, Saturday afternoon, I just had some toast and coffee and I’m back in bed.

What a bittersweet but wonderful day Friday was.

Lunch saying goodbye to Charlotte, one of the craziest, funniest, sweet, adorable ladies I’ve ever met (who introduced me to Yoga with Adriene, without a question the best thing that happened to me in 2017), followed by a big group of us at Tapas taking over two of their central tables, chatting, laughing, on a sunny Friday afternoon after work. I missed all of us going for drinks after work… It felt like a reunion, I loved looking around seeing everyone having a good time.

Sad to see friends and colleagues leaving but happy I got to know new people I’ve haven’t had the chance before, and end the evening with a cider and heart to heart conversations with my brother. I miss seeing him every day, having a laugh in the office, walking home together after work…

Today I’m struggling though.

I didn’t drink much but a busy week at work, lack of sleep and not sticking to the same drink last night took its toll on me. I feel exhausted.

I can’t get out of bed, my body aches, my back is killing me. That’s what happens when I don’t do my yoga for a couple of days. My mind and body complain.

And the emotional hangover: at its worst. Scientists still cannot fully explain why anxiety and depression symptoms hit you in the face after drinking, imbalance of chemicals and nutrients in your body apparently. “At the cellular level, your brain is mad, agitated. And you just feel bad.” Susan Scholl, a health and wellness professor once stated. No shitting.

The thoughts were there I guess, the alcohol then decides to bring them up, exaggerate, go crazy and f**k you up.

The weather doesn’t help either. It feels like the longest winter of my time on earth… I miss the sun, the warmth, summer dresses and sandals, the feel of hot sand on my feet whilst running into the crystal clear cool water, red, sunburn face, beers and a cig at the beach at night, I miss summer…

I just got a voice message from Sheba, telling me about her day, chatting about everything and anything as we do every day. I love listening to her messages.

Today she is emotional. I’m emotional.

A lot to think about, a lot to do, but not today. Today I just want to stay in bed and not see anyone. The people I really want to see today and hug and have a laugh with are miles away.

That’s what I did, most of the day. A nice long shower, clean bedsheet and back to bed.

In the afternoon I message Artemis. She is coming to London in May, a mini break with one of my favourite people, at my birthday weekend. So, very excited. It’s been years since we did this. A holiday, just the two of us, wandering in London.

A couple of hours later… the little sister wants to Skype me. It’s almost time. It’s Easter weekend back home. The family is at the midnight Easter Service, they’ve just lit their candles with the Holy Light and the priest is about to sing the The Paschal troparion or Christos anesti, the Easter hymn every single person born and raised in Greece and Cyprus knows by heart. I just remembered, I posted a blog on Greek Orthodox Easter two years ago.

Χριστὸς ἀνέστη ἐκ νεκρῶν,
θανάτῳ θάνατον πατήσας,
καὶ τοῖς ἐν τοῖς μνήμασι,
ζωὴν χαρισάμενος.

Christ is risen from the dead,
Trampling down death by death,
And upon those in the tombs
Bestowing life.

I hum along. I wish them Christos Anesti (Jesus has risen) and we hang up. I’m emotional again. I can’t put in words how much I love them. I was telling Sheba about it on my message earlier. But I know if I start crying in front of them, they will. So I hold it in. For a moment I feel proud of myself for learning to control my feelings.

11pm. I just finished watching the Crown. I’ve learned a lot from this show, although today I didn’t pay attention, it was more of a background noise.

I want this day to end. I know I’ll be OK tomorrow, the emotional hangover will be over. Bedtime. I’ll finish this post tomorrow, I wonder how… I don’t even have a title. Inspiration has abandoned me today.

Sunday

I wake up and go back to sleep, wake up and go back to sleep.

Is my bedroom door open? Terrified. No, it can’t be. Is it? I turn the light on, it’s closed. It was a dream, a really bad dream, I get them a lot lately. Brain overloaded.

9:30am. I’m awake and can’t fall asleep again. I check my phone. Easter messages from friends and my family and a voice message from Shebs. Then my phone rings. Is my star sister, Stella. She usually calls without warning when she had an accident. But today she just wanted to wish me Happy Easter. We have a laugh, I can’t wait to see her in a couple of weeks.

Today I feel better. I’m not as emotional.

I put my Spotify on, Hunny is This What Adults Do, Lauran Hibberd…

I don’t want a stroll on a Sunday and I’m a sucker for unhappy Birthday… But all my darling friends, I don’t feel OK, ’cause they are all having bunnies or babies and I don’t want the same… (or I think that’s what she sings)…

I giggle.

I message Shebs back, I book a hotel for Artemis and myself and after I finish this post, it’s me time. How much I need it I can’t say.

I loved my week off, three amazing days in Bordeaux and a lovely weekend in London. I loved being on the go, packing, unpacking, exploring, wandering, catching up with loved ones.

I find it hard to adjust to ‘normal’ life but I need to. I need to reset, that’s exactly what I’ll do. I need Yoga with Adriene, hours on my guitar, read a book, catch up with friends, write more, I missed writing, I already feel better writing this. What a cathartic, therapeutic experience it is for me.

But I also need adrenaline… make new friends, sing at the top of my lungs, run until I can’t breathe, dance until my feet hurt, try new things…

I think I may have come up with a title…

I’m ready. Whatever this week brings.

Χριστός Ανέστη to all my Cypriot friends and family.

Namaste

Eleni