love – Page 5 – Lessons I learned after I turned 30

Pappou Costas

He looks different, as he suddenly grew older overnight…

Every time I go home, I make time to go see my grandpa. Not out of obligation but of love and admiration.

He is my only grandparent still alive. I’ve never met my dad’s parents, my dad’s auntie, the legendary giagia Frosou died a couple of years ago and my favourite grandma Stella, pappou Costas’s wife died when I was 9.

Grandpa Costas was always there growing up not just on special occasions but in our every day lives. He would take us on bike rides, or down town on a Saturday morning to wander in the market and get us a freshly baked pastry and oven baked eggs for breakfast, one of my most cherished memories. I can still remember the excitement of waking up early to go with pappou Costas in old Nicosia. Everyone knew him!

A proud but sensitive man who is not ashamed to cry, so innocent and sweet he loves everyone. He still remembers some of his Turkish he used to communicate with his fellow Turkish Cypriots shepherds before 1974, when life was simple.

He is still in great form now, in his 80s but he is getting older and I’m terrified the fragility that comes of old age might take him away from us at any point.

The sudden realisation of growing old. He is getting older, I’m getting older. Such a poignant, profound acknowledgement.

I last saw him in September, on a warm Thursday morning, and it was the first time I noticed his walking. Slow and a bit disoriented. Normal for his age, but not pleasant to see.

He sometimes forgets where he is or what time of the day he is, he is categorically refusing to wear glasses although he needs them, but he still makes us laugh when we least expect it.

I was thinking when I saw him on that day whether I should take a picture of him, whilst he still remembers us and has (relative) clarity of mind but he may not want to so I didn’t ask.

And, as if he read my mind, out of the blue, he says: ‘Do you want to take one of those ‘selfies’ together?’ The rest of the family have taught him well!

I couldn’t believe it. And of course I did. He then asked to see it, checked he looked OK, although we all knew he can’t really see properly.

This recent memory, so simple, although bittersweet makes me smile when I can’t find a way out of my mind’s labyrinth.

Eleni

Love and joy for all: Southampton Pride 2018

2018 has not been an easy ride so far but there are days I’ll never forget, days that made it to the top of the list, memories I’ll treasure for ever.

I travelled on my own for the first time to the beautiful Bordeaux, I made it to the top of the highest mountain in the UK, I moved to a home on my own again, The Solent Graduation week 2018, cherished memories with friends and family here and at my little home island and now Southampton Pride.

I loved it so much last year, I couldn’t possibly imagine how it can get better, but oh my it did.

A year and two cruise ship visits later, I got to know the volunteers and the organisers, the most loveliest bunch of humans I’ve ever met, especially Danny who has a heart of gold and I had no doubt Southampton Pride 2018 would be an incredible day but I didn’t realise how bigger and better it would have been.

A dedicated family area, playground, bouncy castles and cute farm animals. pigs, chicken, goats, I don’t know how much time I spent staring at the chicks and the ducks. There’s something soothing, heart-warming to watch the little, new to this world, innocent creatures just… being.

Food and drink stalls, a large bar, the Main Stage, and inside the Guildhall there was a second stage and countless stands, selling merchandise, charity representatives, a glitter stand, the Great Wall with messages of love and many more I didn’t get the time to explore.

Whilst walking around with my friend Jamie who volunteered for the Pride last minute, taking snaps of our wonderful guests, I caught a glimpse of my adopted brother Andi on the Teacup rides with his goddaughter, so sweet it almost brought me to tears.

This year there was a doggie area, one of my favourite parts of the Pride, where you could get your dog trained, and there were feeding and water bowls. I lost count of how many cute dogs I got to pet. A paradise on earth.

I spent half of my shift with Jamie, capturing all the joy and fun of the amazing, loving humans attending the event, giving out cards with details of the survey we set up to know what people thought of the event, that’s how we’ll learn and keep making it better year after year (if you were there and want to fill it in all details here) bumping into people I know, Solent colleagues, friends I haven’t seen in a while, the gorgeous Carlos and Jens and my brother Andi, who every time I see it’s a painful reminder of how much I miss seeing him every day.

At 2pm, it was time for the Parade. I missed it last year, so I didn’t know what to expect. What an amazing atmosphere! Men, women, transgender, singles, couples, families, children, dogs, all together in bright, happy colours, walking in the centre of Southampton celebrating love.

When Jamie left, I teamed up with the lovely Rebekah and went around again to take more pictures, I’ve seen the man with the Blue Eyes and the beautiful smile I saw last year and asked for a picture again, that was a special moment, we loved watching Cheeky Girls and Union J and just before my shift ended we were asked to clean the toilets. Not the most fun thing to do, but someone has to do it, and we had a laugh doing it.

After my shift, I joined Darren, Donna, my UK mum and my brother Andi, my little Solent family for a well deserved drink. What a beautiful end to an already incredible day.

This is why I love volunteering. To be part of something so great, to make others smile. to be able to help in any way it’s a feeling nothing compares to.

Thank you to all the organisers, sponsors, Cunard in particular our main sponsor, it wouldn’t have been possible without them, and volunteers, paramedics, security guards, everyone who put together a spectacular, marvellous event for the city, especially Danny who asked me to do something I really enjoyed last year and because of him I had the opportunity to get on top of the Bargate the day before.

I hope more businesses support this great celebration to grow from year to year and remain free for all to enjoy.

If you want to be a part of something truly special, we are always looking for more volunteers. I can’t wait for next year!

PS. Thank you to whoever made the scrumptious chocolate cookies for the volunteers. They were so delicious I had five!

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

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

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

Nothing stays the same and nothing changes… (part 1)

Tuesday morning

I just woke up. Where am I? I’ve been having dreams about a friend, the same friend for two or three nights and they never end well, I can’t understand why… what is my brain trying to tell me? I wake up confused.

Two days ago I was on our amazing One Sound show, singing with my colleagues in front of 700 people and the next day knackered having a Sunday coffee with a friend and then watching Beast at Harbour Lights, a film I’m still thinking about.

But now I’m in the summer PJs my mum got me (pink floral Good Vibes written on the top, very fitting), it feels warm, no it feels hot, I must have sweat a lot last night. I remember. I remember my long day of taxi, train, flight. I remember the airport guard looking for a specific guy on my flight but he never showed up, I remember watching Schindler’s List on the plane (why I thought it’d be a good time to do that I don’t know,de-press-ing), my sisters and my mum at the airport…

I’m at home… my other home, my first home…

It always feels weird the first day or two I’m back. No matter how often I may visit, I always get this ‘out of place’ feeling every time. As if I travelled for days and I’m now on another planet, an utterly and completely different life that’s somehow very familiar.

I guess it is. I’m a different person here, but also the same. Does that make sense? I’m not sure it does but I have a feeling that expats will get it.

Every time I come home I remember the person I used to be before I left, how I changed over the years, how I grew up, how living in the UK has changed me, but somehow deep down I’m still the same little girl. Am I a different person here or just a different version of myself?

I guess I subconsciously adapt to the environment, different people, different culture, different weather. Different but familiar… A familiar environment, everything is familiar but not as familiar as it used to be. People here are more open, more affectionate. I forget how they stare, how they start a conversation with a stranger with such ease. And after a day or two I’m more open and ‘more’ of everything myself. The wonders of human nature. How easily we learn and adapt to a different way of living… especially when we lived it before in ‘another life’.

Why am I thinking all of this now? Maybe it’s because I didn’t have any time to think for the last week or two, maybe a walk at the beach and a coffee by the sea with friends will help…

I keep mumbling Bastille’s Pompeii… But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?

Wednesday morning

Marios, the hairdresser remembers me and my friends in primary school. He remembers me playing my guitar… How? Why can’t I remember him? I wonder what my childhood friends are now doing… I later in the week discover that one of them is now a well known chef in Cyprus, Charalambos! I recognised him as soon as I saw him on TV. Last I remember of him was 10 year old us playing outside my grandma’s house. I have a picture of us on the school nativity play, he was Joseph and I was Holy Mary…

Later in the day…

I just got a message and a rainy snap from a friend back home. I sent him a snap of me in my summer attire. I finally escaped the longest winter, my longest winter in the UK. I smile… I’ve been chatting to two of my friends back… home all week. I don’t mind, I actually prefer it. I somehow don’t want to forget my ‘other’ life. It’s part of me.

I meet my little sister’s friends, her co-stars in the musical they’ve been working hard on for the last six months. I’ve heard so much about them and I can now put together faces and names. Although we just met they welcome me with such love and affection I find it moving and can’t stop smiling. They’ve heard a lot about me from my little sis and couldn’t wait for me to visit, and I’ve heard a lot about them, it feels as if we’ve already known each other for while. One of them wants to speak in English, he likes my ‘British’ accent. I giggle to myself. As much as I can try, I can never completely escape my ‘British’ self.

Later in the same day…

The three of us, again, like back in the day, in our uni years, having a drink and a cigarette, chatting, serious, deep conversations and bursting into hysterical laughs every now and then. No one would have ever guessed the turns, the ups and downs, the crazy, surreal almost things, people, events life threw at us. How we changed but we are somehow still the same.

Thursday morning

I can’t get out of bed. I’m exhausted. Ran out of energy. Completely. But I know today will be a long day. It’s the day of the show. That’s why I came home now and not summertime. I need to focus on that.

And stop thinking about what I’ll do when I’m back, decisions I need to make, what to focus on, what I can do to help the family here in case they need to move out in the near future. The condition of the flat is getting worse… the government is doing nothing. Maybe I can move in with a flatmate again so I can save and help my parents if needed? Although I hate it. Although I will worry whether they paid the bills, although I love and miss living on my own so much it hurts.

‘Do what is best for you. You are in your thirties, you work hard, you deserve to enjoy life, have your own place again. I’m sure everything will work out fine for us’ my mum said. I was about to cry but I didn’t. I knew that will set them off. I’m so blessed to have such an amazing pair for parents. They always put our happiness first. No matter what.

I feel guilt. I feel torn. What should I do? How do you make a decision like this? How do you make any important decision?

One of the reasons I need to go home every now and then (other than the sunshine) is to remember who I am, how much I’m loved, escape my troubles back home in the UK, reset and go back with a fresh mindset. But this time I find myself thinking of all the things I need to sort out most of the time. I can’t let it consume me…

A lyric from Vincent keeps playing in my mind…

Now I understand what you tried to say to me… how you suffered for your sanity…

Get ready, quickly, you only have an hour… Focus on the musical, focus on today, focus on the now. Please…

Eleni

On board PnO’s Ventura

I’m on a ship, having lunch, wine and a laugh with Liam, Jordan, Richard, Tansy, David and Cat.

How blessed am I? How did this even happen?

Last August I saw a post on Facebook urgently asking for last minute volunteers for Southampton Pride. Some of my favourite humans and officially the best hugger was going to be there, my dear Jaba, Mr Dixon, my brother Andi and others I didn’t expect. So I emailed the lovely Danny and I ended up having one of my best days of 2017.

Fast forward to last December, Cunard, one of the Pride’s sponsors offered free lunch for all volunteers on one of their beautiful ships but due to bad weather it was postponed.

A couple of weeks ago Danny messaged. The free lunch was to take place on Saturday, 21st of April. Who could say no to free lunch, on board one of PnO’s largest and newest cruiseships with lovely people?

I almost didn’t go. I had a crazy busy week and hadn’t slept enough in days. I was exhausted. But I knew I’d regret it if I missed it. Sometimes I just know. I have a gut feeling. I wish I listened to it more often.

But I got up around 9am, way too early for me on a Saturday, got ready and made it to Ocean Terminal on time.

I didn’t know anyone else there, although that didn’t phase me, I love people. But I didn’t know what to expect.

I surely didn’t expect a three course meal in a posh restaurant, with our own table waiter refilling our wine glasses. The food was lovely and the wine, delicious. I’ve recently became a big red wine aficionado and the red that came with our meal was divine.

The meal started with asparagus and devilled egg mayonnaise followed by baked rump of lamb and ended with dark chocolate mousse cake with praline surprise and coffee.

dark chocolate mousse cake with praline surprise

I also did not expect to meet so many incredible, fun, amazing humans. Richard’s laugh and all the smiley faces sum up the day beautifully.

After our scrumptious meal and a tiny bit giggly because of the wine, lovely Tom gave us a tour of the ship. We’ve walked through the main restaurants, the spa (my favourite part), the deck, the shops and our last stop was the art gallery.

Thank you to Danny, Tom, Cunard, PnO, everyone who put together this lovely day for us. I can’t wait for the next one.

And I can’t wait to volunteer for the next Southampton Pride in August. More volunteers are always needed, so if you fancy spending an awesome day helping out to run a beautiful, colourful, fun event, full of laughter and love, head on their website. This year it will be bigger than ever!

Namaste

Eleni

You and You. The most important relationship.

I open my eyes… I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know where I am, what am I thinking? What is my first thought? I look around. I’m in my room…

I woke up a couple of times through the night. Weird dreams, my mind’s way of reminding me that I need to stop, take a break and think, process what is happening, take care of myself rather than keep distracting me by keeping busy.

I had a wonderful week. I caught up with friends I hadn’t seen for a while, farewell lunch for Alison, I went to my first Touch Network (the charity I want to volunteer for) event I absolutely loved and will post about very soon, I spent yesterday afternoon on board Ventura, enjoying a three course meal with my Southampton Pride Volunteer friends (post coming soon) and in the evening I finally got to try L’Osteria’s enormous pizzas, al Fresco, chatting and laughing with a friend, watching the terrifying thunderstorm.

But, I forgot me. I neglected me. The most important relationship. With myself. I suddenly remember Nayyirah Waheed’s three line poem.

there is you and you.

this is a relationship.

this is the most important relationship.

I’m in endless dilemmas on all aspects of my life, work, personal, spiritual and I’ve strategically avoided making any decision, probably my biggest weakness, making decisions, by keeping busy, drinking, eating out a lot, doing anything else other than taking care of myself.

Last night I finally stopped. As soon as I came home, soaking wet from the thunderstorm, I cried. And I cried. I was not drunk or had a crazy moment, I just stopped, I was in my room, by myself and all the things I didn’t process, I didn’t think of all week, hit me in the face.

I message Shebs. I know she is probably the only one who can understand. And she did. She does, she always does.

I was always on the fence whether soulmates exist. But now I know they do. They don’t necessarily come in the form of a lover or a partner and I don’t think we only have one.

Shebs is one of my soulmates. My little sister is another one. We just understand each other on a different level, there’s a deeper, more spiritual connection.

I’m happy. And sad. Grateful. Worried. Anxious about some things, completely and utterly relaxed about others. Unsure, uncertain, in painful conflict but at the same time blessed.

The next couple of weeks will be unbelievably busy but I promise you, you, myself that I’ll make time for you. And take care of you.

Remember, the most important relationship. Take care yourself. Love and nurture it.

Not because ‘if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love anyone else’ or ‘if you don’t love yourself, how do you expect anyone else to do so?’ That’s all bull***t.

The love I felt from my friends and family when I hit rock bottom and hated myself is what helped me keep going and I wouldn’t be here today if it’s wasn’t for them. You can love and be loved no matter what.

Take care of yourself for you.

Eat healthy, exercise, do yoga, make decisions, however hard it may be, even if that means you’ll disappoint people you care about. But they will understand. I hope they will.

All I want right now is a hug. One of the simplest, purest, most beautiful forms of love. It will have to wait until tomorrow. I’m not leaving my room today.

For now I’ll stay in Parsva Savasana (The Side fetal pose) for hours, contemplating whilst listening to my favourite music…

Namaste

Eleni

Friends, Food and F**ed up life- the true First Day of Spring

Saturday, 9:30am.

My alarm went off. I don’t usually set an alarm at the weekend but I was meeting Nish and Taylor, two lovely ladies I met a couple of months ago.

First thing I did, I checked my phone. A habit I’m trying to break, but I find impossible.

I check the news. President Trump with the support of the UK and the US bombed Syria overnight. My heart sank. The civil war in Syria has been going on for years now, how will more bombing solve anything? I remembered what Donna said yesterday, something I didn’t think of. ‘Are you worried about Cyprus? The RAF that’ll hit Syria will leave from Akrotiri in Cyprus’.

I was worried. I am worried. I hope my little island will be safe. I later read my lovely colleague Osama’s post, worrying about his sister who works for the UN and is based in Syria. Terrifying.

Half an hour later I’m still in bed, snoozing and I get a phone call from my sister. She never calls out of the blue. I made a joke about her making a habit of calling me in the morning lately. She replied with ‘What do you say to a friend whose their 9-month old baby died suddenly overnight?’

My heart froze. I had no idea what to say. I managed to mumble ‘What?’ ‘How?’ ‘Why?’ I had no real advice to offer. All I could think of was to let her friend know she was there for her, for whatever she may need. Anything else she would have said, it wouldn’t have helped. I can’t imagine, nobody can imagine the excruciating pain the parents and the family are going through.

My mind is travelling million miles away, thinking how life sucks sometimes, how horrible I feel I can’t do anything right now to help. Help the situation in Syria, help my sister’s friend. What I can do is get up, get ready and make the most of my day. Enjoy every little moment, be grateful for what I have.

I open the curtains. It’s sunny! I sit on my bed, soaking the rays of sunshine touching my skin whilst listening and singing along to James Bay’s Us, ‘Tell me how to be in this world, tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt..”

I get ready and off I go to meet Nish for a coffee and a chat. I love Nish, she is my age and we get each other, although we only met once before. And we start chatting as soon as we meet. It’s so easy, so natural.

We met at Nousha Lounge. I haven’t been there before. A cute little cafe tucked away on East Street. We met Melodie there. I’ve never met her before, but I love Ten Minute Sketch, her Instagram account. She is beautiful, inside, out. She is fun, creative but at the same time, mature and calm. She works for Communicare, a charity close to my heart, a charity I sang for with my old friends at Sing Now.

We end up staying at Nousha’s for hours chatting away about anything and everything, whilst enjoying a hot Americano and a delicious Reese’s brownie Melodie recommended. If you are ever at Nousha’s you MUST try it. Sweet, chocolatey with a hint of the Reese’s peanut butter pleasantly breaking the sweetness every now and then. Heaven on earth.

On our way to meet Taylor, it feels very summery in town. Bands playing music on the street, people shopping.

We first pop into the Solent Showcase gallery. Melodie reminded me it was the closing party of the #StandTogether exhibition. I loved everything about it and to be there on their last day, to see how it grew since I first had a look months ago was just beautiful.

Reading the messages on the wall restored my faith to humanity for a little. Surely if there are so many incredibly loving humans in the world, we can make it better? My favourite messages of the few I got to read:

We finally meet Taylor at Scarpini’s shoes. They invited everyone to have a peek at their SS18 Collection. I’m no fashion icon and I spend most of my money on experiences rather than clothes or shoes but I’m always up for supporting local, independent shops. Their shoes and bags are gorgeous and the owners are sweet and welcoming. Their scrummy cupcakes they offered to everyone was a great touch.

I miss living at Bedford Place. The livelihood, the shops, the busy vibes. I think I know where I’ll move in July.

The afternoon ended with lunch with Nish and Taylor at my all time favourite Halladays.

I came home buzzing from the gorgeous day in the sun with lovely humans I had and after some cleaning and tidying up it was ME time.

I spent hours on my guitar and at night I watched the Good Karma Hospital. I love this show for more than one reasons, the gorgeous summery Indian setting (although filmed in Sri Lanka), Dr Walker’s bravery moving to another country, Dr Fonseka’s strong but deep down soft, sensitive soul. And whilst consuming an unhealthy amount of Sweet n’ Salt popcorn, that’s when I decided. I really want to book to go to a yoga retreat in South Asia. Wake up to the bird sounds, feel the heat on every single bone in my body, meditate, do yoga and relax under a tree, reading a book. I need to make it happen.

Just before I go to bed I message my sister, to find out how her friend was. As you’d expect not that well. The funeral is to take place the following day. It may be happening as we speak.

Sunday, 11am. I’m awake since 8ish but I stay in bed. I remember something a friend recently told me. Getting out of bed late for them was 11am. ‘For me it’s still morning, late is after noon’, I replied and giggled.

I listen to Sheba’s message and hopelessly try to fall asleep again. No luck. My brain is not letting me.

After my morning coffee my cousin messages. They are at my grandpa’s and they want to Facetime me. I smile to myself. I’m never alone, I’ll never feel alone, not with all the love from my friends and my family.

I talk to her lovely seven children, my godson, my prince, my uncles, my aunts, my grandpa. They took him to a nursing home last Tuesday. They couldn’t leave him there though, they loved him too much and took him back home by noon. He starts crying. I love him so deeply I can’t even describe. In his 80s strong as a rock but not afraid to show his sensitive side. A true gentleman.

We hang up and I can’t decide what to do next. I know, I’ll write about it.

I really don’t know how to feel and what to think about life anymore. So many ups and downs, so cruel and sweet, so heartwarming and painful, the blinding contrast.

I feel blessed for all the love and sad for all the pain, cruelty and suffering.

I just watched a video of children describing what they think love is. ‘It’s pretty simple’ one of them say. Love is good, we need more love in the world’ says another.

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