A former dancer, current yoga teacher, writer, curious traveler and wild soul. My fuel and desire is to learn from others and spread healing and joy as I go. Follow my adventures and see where they lead you! All the stories are true, all the poems are real and all the writing is mine. Enjoy
Last year I started a daily writing challenge for myself, not only to share more stories with my ever loyal but small audience ( I thank you, all of ya!) but to dive deeper into why and how I want to write this “blog”.
It’s become a truer mirror and an open door into my life here in New York more than any other time of year. My birth month was my first choice for the challenge because despite what we all say; every year that passes we come closer and closer to the deep realizations of our purpose, existence and goals for this one life we are given. ( could be more but I’m not here to argue reincarnation)
In the year prior to reaching 40, many things shifted for me personally and professionally so I find this month long daily posting challenge is an excuse to write about many more things that rattle in my head in a daily, monthly and yearly basis.
Quite a large number of things I read about, think about and research don’t often make it on this blog, quite simply because I don’t have enough information to go on, I write from my heart, and I write because I love it, so I invite you to join me on this month long journey.
I certainly hope to see many of you along this road. At midnight each night I’ll release the post for the next day, and welcome discussion and cometary. Some surprises will come as well, with small previews of new poems I’m working on and a project that’s taking shape.
How food, culture and traditions carry us into un-conventional interpretations.
Traditions are what bring us and keep us together. They shape who we are and how we view the world. We adopt them without question and often times without fully understanding what they might mean to us. Traditions are more often than not bound to history, cultural connections and familial ritual. How do we appropriate traditions to our modern life? Do we mold them to our non traditional lives and reconnect with them in new ways or do we embrace their old world wisdom and try to re discover them for ourselves?
Long ago when trying to discover my own personal identity as a Greek-American, I had a plethora of traditions to draw from. Most were passed down to me from my Greek grandmother Eleni and my great grand mother Angela, and another from my American grandmother Pauline and her English, German family. Mixing Sauerkraut with Dolma and Eggplant Saladwith traditional home made macaroni and cheese was quite the site in my Greek upbringing. Believing in theevil eye and cleansing your energy which is deeply ingrained in Ancient Classical Greek pagan traditions, with the idea of faith in a higher power and spiritual traditions connected to working hard and getting ahead by your own bootstraps was like playing a tug of spiritual/ belief war. I wanted to understand all of these traditions for myself and embrace them on my own terms
How do we transform traditions and make them our own.
For the first time in my dual Greek/American life while living and cooking in both countries for many years, I made a traditional new year’s day cake/pie called Vasilopita (Βασιλόπιτα). In Greece, cutting the Vasilopita marks a traditional start to the new year. Some households choose to make one, either from an old family recipe, or from the many variations that you can find online. Based on any given region of Greece you might find yourself in; the recipe differs greatly but the general idea is a cake that’s sweet, tender, dunk-able in coffee, and always must have a lucky coin. Each version of this “pie” is carefully embellished, to show the uniqueness and the personal touch of each household. In recent years, and throughout my childhood and adulthood, it’s become more prevalent to order them from one of Athens’ more famous bakeries and avoid the hassle and many hours of preparation. This year I got over my trepidation of making a cake from scratch and consulted my old grandmother’s Tselemedes (cook book) along with some recipes online to make my own home made version.
The result, not only surprised me but gave a much deeper meaning to sharing and creating this tradition for myself. My grandmother never taught me how to make this particular recipe but for all intents and purposes it came out beautifully. A labor of love, mixed in with nostalgia, tradition, personal traditions and a lot of humor. See video link below.
I’m not religious in any way and don’t adhere to or subscribe to the Greek Orthodox church I was baptized in, but for whatever reason – inexplicably so, I rejoiced in cutting each piece and sharing it with my friends and loved ones. In the end, each tradition has its roots in uniting people and rituals; be it bringing in the new year, turning 15, becoming an adult, graduating, creating a household, and sharing a meal with those you love. Personal traditions paired with those passed down to us; make for incredible insight into how much closer and connected we are than we think. From Vasilopita in Greece to King Cake in New Orleans, to Rosca de Reyesin Mexico, to Panettone in Italy, and Galette des Rois in France, our personal traditions find a global connection.
“It’s possible to love a human being if you don’t know them too well.” –
Charles Bukowski
Love is…
In order for any of us to completely understand and accept love, we have to understand what love is not. We often confuse love for a lot of things, that simply aren’t love. For example desire and love don’t often go hand in hand. Desire is lustful, passionate, unending, unfulfilled, hungry, thirsty, creepy, unvarnished, jealous, erratic, stupid and very insecure. Lust is carnal, all consuming, addicting, dangerous and sometimes clandestine. Hate well, that’s definitely not love.
Love is secure. Love is steady, knowing, calm, compassionate, giving, bountiful and glorious. Love is the glue. Love (like one of my favorite bands wrote) is all you need. Yet we still confuse love for all that it is not. We as humans have the capacity to love, be in love, and love people and beings who aren’t like us, don’t speak like us, don’t share the same story as us and don’t come from us. I’ve written in past blog posts about the 7 types of love. The ancient Greeks had many different expressions for love. Erotic love, brotherly love (yes that kind of love ), love of a parent to a child, love of all humanity, longing pained love (that achy breaky heart kind of love), playful love (flirty yummy delicious), and self love. All these types of loves coexist, they are not mutually exclusive and yes we can love two (or more) people at the same time. One thing love is NOT is stingy.
Love is Not…
Nothing else is a replacement or a stand in for love. Love in all its forms, shapes and versions, is in its core without discrimination, distinction or agenda; pure. Love is equal opportunity, bi, trans, tall, short, big, small, all inclusive and all encompassing. LOVE IS LOVE. Control is not love, abuse is not love, deception is not love, war is not love, organized religion is not love, fanaticism is not love, nationalism is not love, fear is not love, force is not love, lies are not love, hate is not love reversed. Love sees all, there is no exception.
So while love seems to get far less advertising than it should, and is often mistaken for its poor, imitations; here are my personal favorite expressions of messy, erotic, playful, flirty, solid, wholesome love, a little lust and everything in between.
Love is : Poetry
Two of my favorite poems about love. One is a monologue for a play called Crave by one of my favorite playwrights Sarah Kane; (thank you to my friends in Greece for reminding me)
Full Monologue : And I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy’s and talk about the day and type your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don’t listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you’re sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the the programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you’re late and be amazed when you’re early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I’m black and be sorry when I’m wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I’d known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you’re angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you’re gorgeous and hug you when you’re anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I’m next to you and whimper when I’m not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don’t and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh and not understand why you think I’m rejecting you when I’m not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I’d ever reject you and wonder who you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and wonder why you don’t believe me and have a feeling so deep I can’t find words for it and want to buy you a kitten I’d get jealous of because it would get more attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of the roaches and buy you presents you don’t want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don’t mean it I do always have from the first time I asked you and wander the city thinking it’s empty without you and want what you want and think I’m losing myself but know I’m safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don’t deserve any less and answer your questions when I’d rather not and tell you the truth when I really don’t want to and try to be honest because I know you prefer it and think it’s all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it’s a beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you. Sarah Kane (3 February 1971 – 20 February 1999) English Playwright
My second favorite poem about love, lust and erotic love is by none other than…. E.E Cummings
i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones,and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
Love is: Music
Everything love wants to express, it does through song, through lyrics, through the beat and the rhythm of music. Any time I’ve wanted to express love for someone I try to do in with music. The list is endless but these are some of my favorite “love” songs.
Nouvelle Vague- Fade Out Lines
Jolene by Dolly Parton- Remix by Todd Terje
Etta James- A Sunday Kind Of Love
I’ve got you Under My Skin (original Frank Sinatra) by – Ben L’Oncle
My Funny Valentine- Chet Baker
Tom Waits- Hope I don’t fall in love with you
Nothing Compares 2U- Prince
Bruce — I’m on Fire (original edit)
Elton John – Tiny Dancer
All in all… there are far more songs about love, longing, togetherness, sex, cigarettes and booze then there is about hate. I figure in the end of this little chess game called life, Love wins.
Life happens. We oftentimes set things aside for another day, and that day turns into a month, and that month turns into many months and so on. I have found there are two main reasons (excuses) we use to put things off: a) We believe we have infinite time to finish, b) we’re eternally ill prepared to tackle any or all our lofty goals. But life tends to show us that neither reason is lofty enough to warrant constant postponing. Recent events and not so gentle life reminders have me thinking what a complete waste of time procrastination is; and with that grand introduction:
I would like to introduce you to the queen of procrastination….. Me.
I have been writing a piece on street art for the past 2 months and I have yet to sit down to finalize it. I have also recently put off working on my personal spoken word project that I have been working on for the past year. I have also not taken French classes that I promised myself back in September I would commit to. I have neglected to call friends I terribly miss, and I haven’t finished a small script. Why? There is no sugar coating this one. Hello- My name is Eleana and I’m a serial procrastinator.
Next week, tomorrow, this weekend for sure, when the weather is nicer, when I’m not so depressed, when I get laid, when it’s summer out, and I can go to the beach, when… I have enough money, when I’ve paid off all my debts, when the trains run on time, when… the gods will allow. You get the idea right? When do we actually get up off our asses, our ill fitting comfort, our complacency and self doubt, and do whatever we’ve committed to? When we have no other choice.
All this talk of putting things off, reminds me of a Greek colloquialism often used when committing to something knowing full well that we won’t follow through with or will ad infinitum neglect, forget or put off until someone reminds us.
From Monday. (Από Δευτέρα)
The Monday next, I’ll start a diet, next week I’ll quite smoking, next Monday I’ll totally take advantage of that gym membership I’ve been paying for and talking about. From Monday next, I’ll start writing that book I’ve been meaning to start. The list is endless. All these lame excuses always lead me to an amazing line from one of my favorite books about writing, creativity and living life to the fullest, and this can be applied to anything that we set our minds to do.
Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.
What does it take to live a full life without putting off the things that we are most passionate about? When is the time ripe for the taking? Does it take illness? Does it take the death of a loved one? What does it take for any of us, ALL of us to wake up and realize, life is not about next Monday, it is about the present. Life is about now.
Let’s face it, these winter weather patterns we are experiencing, are crazy under normal circumstances, and to put it mildly winter SUCKS. I’m not talking about the normal cooling of things, and a cute mountain cottage with a fireplace, but the face freezing, skin drying, what the hell is this 8C to -20C fluctuation, urban cruel, dark, kind of winter.
Our bodies like nature experience somewhat of a powered down, closed off, let me hibernate till this torture is over kind of state. But since we don’t have the luxury to go into a cave and wait till spring fully wrested and hungry as hell, we have to cope with the day to day fluctuations of weather, ailments, lower energy, fucked up office climate control and other people’s colds, sneezing, coughing, and bad moods.
I have been experiencing somewhat of a depressed state, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. Having dealt with more severe depression in the past, I’m thoroughly convinced it runs in my American side of the family. My coping mechanisms were different at various stages of my life and in most cases did not involve heavy medication. Before I continue, let me clearly state.
I’m not here to advocate for or against anti-depressants this is NOT that kind of personal account. I had consulted in the past with a primary care physician who immediately, without extensive blood work or any further tests; prescribed anti depressants despite not knowing anything about my physical history, or even if they were really that effective for me. For those who do feel anti depressants or mood stabilizing medication works for them, short term or long term, I’m glad they have provided some normalcy.
Despite the many roadblocks and difficulties of seasonal affective disorder, I have amassed enough tools in my arsenal, over the years to deal with my mood fluctuations and sleep patterns in a more holistic manner. Over the last 20 plus years I’ve spent countless hours practicing yoga, following proper nutrition, researching health and wellness journals, and attending lectures, workshops and seminars about sports nutrition, breathing techniques and proper diet. I can do this right? Well not exactly.
In order to truly begin this journey of proper mental and physical care, and to properly tend to our needs physically and mentally, we have to fully dedicate ourselves to fixing those aspects of our daily lives from the inside out. It’s a balance of nutrition, exercise, supplemental nutrition and mental health care. This is not a short term project, it’s for the rest of our lives.
I firmly believe we can train and retrain our selves to listen and give our bodies what they need order to directly and more effectively influence our emotional and mental state. (old tricks for an aging dog). On the other hand, we must challenge what we have long been mislead into thinking; that we don’t have control over our own bodies, our own health and our own well being. Somehow we have fallen pray to and mercy of endless experts and even more doctors, but in the end what we eat, how we sleep, and how much exercise and emotional balancing we do on our own, can bring far more positive change in how we cope with seasonal depression.
Change, Coping and Lifelong wellness.
Aside from slamming your first against a wall and buying a ticket to Spain to avoid the endless gray skies of an equally endless, winter (yes I’ve done this in the past, don’t recommend it); There are many less painful and far less destructive things we can do to survive and cope with SAD.
Here is my personal list of tips and personal care rituals that keep me sane, and have proven extremely helpful during some very dark and heavy winter days. Again I’m not saying this will work for any of you, but some common sense tools often add to whatever else you might be trying.
Daily exercise, yoga, and stretching – If you have time to binge watch Netflix you have time to do some self care. (that’s me talking)
Clean up your daily food intake. Take out or greatly reduce sugar and complex carbohydrates. Even more so for processed or pre-packaged foods (no I don’t mean all carbohydrates we need those for energy- unless you suffer from Celiac disease where clearly all gluten is out). Eating a balanced healthy home cooked meal should not be a privilege. Eat clean to think clean.
Abstain from alcohol, coffee, sugary drinks and any other over stimulating or over depressive drinks, replacing them for a 3-4 weeks with herbal teas, water, fresh seasonal juices, and naturally carbonated drinks.
Take pre and pro biotics for a healthy gut. It has been proven, time and time again that a healthy digestive system leads to betterment of overall health and especially emotional health. Eat clean to think clean.
Aim for a healthy and balanced sleep cycle. Cell repair happens faster while sleeping, and getting proper physical and mental rest. (so no binge watching Netflix till 3 am)
Get a massage, (and if you can’t afford one get a friend to massage you!) acupuncture, or any other kind of body work. Physical touch helps alleviate cortisol levels (stress hormone) and helps increase dopamine and serotonin production.
Have more sex. (you think I would leave that out??) also serotonin production during sexual activity in both men and women, also production of testosterone in men. In the alternative: self care is the best care.
I’m not saying any of these “tricks” or personal rituals will work for anyone else, solely on the basis of my experience, but any and all of these practices are about a way of life, not just a 10, 20 day trial. Taking up more exercise, eating better food, and making time for your mental and physical well being is a daily practice. For many of us, these suggestions can be in addition to medication and talk therapy. We owe it to ourselves to work with these better body practices, so severe depression, and seasonal depression have less of a chance of having such a tremendous hold on our daily lives. And who the hell wouldn’t want more sex.
Stay Uplifted.
would love to hear your thoughts on winter depression and what you do to cope!
A thought about Marie Kondo and the clutter revolution
I am a self declared neat freak, (anyone who knows me can attest to this). I’ve followed the Marie Kondo craze as diligently as I would watch a clothing cycle go by, and to the avid followers of this tidying up phenomenon I judge no one, to each their own. I’ve heard about the woman, the show, the cult like following, the memes, the hype, of weeding out your stuff like you do a garden; and I am left with major questions and disagreement in my mind.
What “sparks joy” for me, or you, or anyone else in the stuff we choose to keep is superbly objective and deeply personal. Of course we keep things around for too long because we need the comfort and consistency it provides. The concept of compensating for emotional stability with the incessant purchase of things is another debate entirely. However the little things that make us happy aren’t necessary convenient or neat or placed into a well folded category. They are memories, moments, personal and communal history, culture and the connective tissue between generations. Ancient Greeks and Egyptians used to fill the tombs of their loved ones with stuff; gold coins, cloth, food, trinkets and jewelry. The concept of having reminders of your life in the afterlife was imperative to giving the departed a smooth passage into the afterlife. These untouchable and unfold-able threads, are in the stuff we give to each other and the stuff we keep for ourselves. What is fundamentally missing in Marie Kondo’s joy sparking philosophy, is understanding our need to constantly acquire useless, pointless, time wasting and money wasting STUFF, instead of sharing what we all have with our friends, family and loved ones.
Yes throw the 80 corks of wine you have, but keep the 5 that tell the story of your experiences with them. Yes throw away the torn and tattered badly made clothing that doesn’t fit you any more but keep the suit jacket that was hand sewn for your grandmother in the 1940’s even though you never really wear it. Below you will find my personal list of what to keep and why in this world of, forced minimalist trends and “get rid of it all cause you won’t take it with you when you die” lifestyles.
De-clutter your brain along with your house cause if you’re going to throw shit out but still think too much and clutter your brain with old thoughts and old memories you’re a memory hoarder. Make room for new ones and keep the ones that truly matter. Meditate, plant things in your home, repair that thing that keeps bothering you, focus on a single task and stop cluttering your day with unnecessary thoughts.
Don’t Keep anything an ex lover gave you that doesn’t represent who you are. Give it to a homeless person, sell it, or throw it in the trash. I’ve done ALL 3 with 3 different men. It felt great. The only exception you should be making is for gifts like music and books; because someone’s inspirational words and music you can always carry with you.
Keep theater tickets, concert tickets, old family photos, a dried flower bouquet from your first boyfriend, family trinkets, and your grandmother’s silver. But don’t just keep it in an attic somewhere never to be seen. It should be displayed, made into art, re purposed; but never kept closed up in some sterile box. Memories, and family history are always part of who we are.
Books and music should never be thrown out… Give them to a friend, donate to a local library, read them to an ailing parent, but NEVER just throw books out. Even your childhood ones. Those are memories worth keeping. Instead of throwing away an old novel you got at a second hand shop, don’t get trashy novels disguised as literature, glossy fashion magazines, or self help books. Those are ridiculous and waste your time and money on this earth.
We are defined more about the stuff we keep and the stories we share; and less about the stuff we buy to pretend to be something or someone we are not, including Marie Kondo’s personal philosophy on a neat, clean, Japanese lifestyle that doesn’t seem to include the human connection that some, unorganized, inconvenient and messy lifestyles have in common.
The general consensus in psychology is that if an opinion or matter of fact statement is voiced in a manner that entangles or blames others in some way; it has more to do with the person speaking it rather than the intended recipients. Also known as projection.
The definition of Projection from Merriam Webster dictionary :
the attribution of one’s own ideas, feelings, or attitudes to other people or to objects especially: the externalization of blame, guilt, or responsibility as a defense against anxiety.
or more directly : The act of throwing or thrusting forward
Setting aside what we consider to be the text book definition of projection. We’ve all done it.
We’ve all projected, thrust, and thrown our shit on to other people. As a lifelong yoga practitioner I like to pride myself on the idea of non attachment for as long as I’ve been on the mat. But let’s be honest. Despite all good intentions NOT projecting our insecurities and problems on to others, is simply an uphill battle. I’m willing to and fight everyday to check in, course correct and set aside my ego but like many of us, sometimes I can’t help it. We all want to think that we’re unique and the only ones with the feelings we have, but ultimately whenever we blame others or project our issues on them; it’s a poorly disguised unresolved, unrelenting, stinky pile of our personal crap. AKA YOUR SHIT.
We’ve all done it.
When projection gets in the way of a constructive conversation, especially online, we have a far more brutal and disjointed environment to deal with. Yet we have seen it again and again, otherwise seemingly with it people who appear to have it together; who advertise perfect lives, abundant in wisdom and introspection; resorting to name-calling, shaming, blaming, self victimization, and throwing fits while lashing out at others. It’s hardly a solution. And in all honestly its an easy forum. Over frustrated people who can’t deal with their own problems, lash out with any given or taken chance at any “threat” to their insecurity. Ultimately thinking they have made examples of themselves in their perfection while criticizing others for their own inability to create meaningful change in their lives.
YET. We’ve ALL done it. (at least once)
What this observation boils down to is this:
Before pointing fingers, burning bridges and playing a never ending blame game of how everyone else is broken, crazy, tethered at the seams, and problematic because things didn’t go our way; Let’s look at each encounter with some compassion and understanding.
We all need to take a step back. check ourselves and truly see how we project our personal crap to the world.
I am lucky to be alive. Many people we know will not get the chance to show their “do I still look hot 10 years later” look; yet this online challenge got me thinking of who I am now, rather than what I look like 10 years on. The narrative we’ve been fed about time passing, lives changing and our aging process is deeply flawed. In most cases I see women and men just displaying an exterior change.
But what about the changes that can’t be seen? I’ve often looked back at my younger self, while connecting the dots of my present image and persona, so before I begin the story of these two moments in time, I have to emphasize how little these two pictures mean in the grand scheme of things. My “youth” may be fading, but the experiences I’ve gained over the past 10 years are following a treacherous, deeply challenging, rewarding and thought provoking journey. This is true of anyone looking back at their 10 year’s younger self.
The two women pictured above are not the same person.
Yes of course they are, but I don’t feel or look or carry myself in the same way as the woman I was back in Nov. 2009. These past 9 & 3/4 years have deeply affected, defined and altered my life’s path more than once and have shaped the person I am daring to become today.
November 2009 — Maroussi, Attika Greece
Freshly separated from a nearly 5 year tumultuous and eye opening relationship with a man 13 years her senior. He was an architect, multilingual, smart, witty accomplished, well traveled, talented and a complete asshole to her. Her father loved him. She did not. She was newly single, after an even more difficult breakup, packed up her apartment and moved to her grandmother’s home; now her home. It was a place of wonder and memories.
She molded her childhood memories of it and would live, love, teach, cook, have gatherings with amazing loving friends, dance, practice yoga and sing there for four amazing years. In those four years she would date drug addicts, ex drug addicts, married or otherwise “occupied” men, liars and cheaters and deeply loving people. She would build a small yoga practice and taught throughout the next decade in Europe and the United States. She would cook meals for and with her friends, and host beautiful gatherings. She would travel. She would also face repeated emotional and verbal abuse from her partners, she would fall into a deep depression that was only curtailed by her yoga practice and the faith of her friends. She would have to constantly fight with her family about property and she would have to finally move her whole life back to the US– again, after the financial crisis ripped her country in a thousand pieces. She would have to start over, utterly alone in a city that was only a cut out memory of her long distant past.
July 2018— DUMBO Brooklyn, NYC
Just shy of 10 years later, I’m standing weathered by shit storms and laughter and joy, desperation and happiness. I came out on the other side quite changed, and despite the many scars all for the better. The picture was taken just at the moment when all the struggles, and mistakes, and lessons were finally being revealed. I had a scar from a deep gash on my forehead to remind me that no matter how bad things got, I could still stand taller because I kept going despite the wrong turns and choices. I loved, I was betrayed, I was physically and emotionally challenged, and that year my life truly began to take shape. The puppet strings were cut off and I stopped caring what people thought of me.
My dear parents, my cousin and my trusted friends are and have always been my angels. I cherish them every day for keeping me sane; they didn’t always understand my journey and quite often probably were scared for my well being, but the last 10 years have been a tsunami of ups and downs. A giant shift into becoming the person I always wanted to become, but didn’t have the courage to approach.
I have more lines on my face and tons more gray hair than I will ever show in public (I’m vain among other things). I have more courage to show my body and my art, I don’t shy away from tearing up misconceptions and false facades. Life sent me some amazing teachers. And thank goodness I’ve finally learned my biggest lesson…
I’m grateful to the past 10 years and I keep a jar of anti wrinkle cream on my side of the medicine cabinet, and have toning masks and tweezers with me at all times. White chin hairs are ridiculous and annoying. My muscles hurt more after exercise or yoga practice, but my body is healthier and stronger than ever before. I would kick my old self in the ass in weight & endurance training and I’m a far more patient and capable yoga teacher and wellness practitioner than I was back then.
Aging is a gift. I will not squander time thinking it’s a curse.
I’m still alive, and grateful every day for the opportunity to keep evolving.
When sex is seen as a favor for good behavior what do you do?
I have often been placed in this predicament (as many women have) when either men I’ve gone on a date with or have been with for a certain amount of time, feel it’s their god given right to get sex just because they did something “nice” for me, or they felt I owed them. In their mind sex is some sort of reward. And by nice I am not talking about saving my life, or buying me a very expensive car, which in this case heck why not right? (just kidding!) But to those who do, more power to you.
I’ve wondered how this expectation came about. Is it their upbringing? Is it society in general? Is the prevalence of transactional and power play sexual encounters just a male mentality? In all the instances of “expected sex”, I wondered (as many women do), If I owed these men something, because that was the approach or the explanation given to me. This implied, or expected reward for good behavior sent me into a moment of self reflection. Did I invite this? Do I owe them some sort of explanation as to why I don’t want to have sex with them? Is this really being asked of me? And what allows for such an expectation?
Looking back at the events that lead to these still unanswered questions, I have yet to understand how the dynamics between men and women are formed, in allowing such expectations to exist, and why we accept living in a society that still creates them.
Case №1 — New York fall 2013
New York fall 2013. Having freshly arrived a few months earlier, I was still bouncing around from home to home and job to job. I was still insecure about my decision to drop my life in Athens, and live in a new city with absolutely zero job prospects. My surviving skills needed sharpening while sustaining myself on the very little money I had saved up. After feeling somewhat settled in and with the help of friends, I found a part time job as a dog walker for a company in Manhattan, but this was hardly enough to keep me afloat. Unlike many Greeks emigrating to the U.S I wanted no part in asking for handouts or favors; I knew full well what working with, and alongside Greek business owners could entail. Just because I was Greek, didn’t mean I cared to or wanted to immediately work in the Greek community, and despite my general rule to stay away from the insulated world of the Greek-American diaspora; I had a need to connect with “my people” and maybe find a better job suited to my education and skills.
After many inquiries and searches, I was introduced to an up and coming Greek American social coordinator, banker, and well known fixture in the Greek American community. Having spoken several times about potential job opportunities, we agreed to meet up in person, after maintaining email communication for several months.
After a pleasant dinner at a Greek restaurant in Astoria, and a somewhat general but also flirtatious conversation, he paid the bill and hailed me a cab to where I was staying. As we continued our conversation and fun banter in the backseat of a cab, he proceeded to corner me and get as close to me as possible. After trying quite a few times to kiss me, and repeating several times that we could end up at his place to fuck. I pleasantly thwarted his advances, and in the end pretty much had to push him off me with a smile. Beyond the dinner I had zero intention of sleeping with this man, and made zero allusions as such.
I got out of the cab, sent him on his merry way and pretty much knew I would never see him again. Upon arriving at my home I got a text message. “Why did you have dinner with me and let me kiss you, if you didn’t intend of having sex with me? You mislead me and that was a waste of my time.” It got me seriously thinking what exactly in my demeanor, our conversation or agreeing to go to dinner with this man gave him the idea that I was open to any kind of further contact? Did he think he was paying for sex with dinner? Or that a dinner was enough to warrant some sort of sexual favor?
This is not the first time or the last time this has occurred, and to be clear not all situations end up like this. Not all men or women for that matter are that manipulative, yet the idea of sex as a commodity never really appealed to me and certainly not as a reward for “good behavior”. I have experienced instances where, seemingly powerful people, and men in particular; like to wield their power in a sexual way and for the most part do so without repercussions. Those same people feel that sexual reward is par for the course, while blatantly stating that: “if I buy you dinner, take you out, get you a cab ride home; or do you a favor, I’m getting what I paid for, and If you don’t comply, I’m wasting precious time If you don’t deliver.” In all these instances, of sexual powerplay, I was never in a position of power. I was either broke, in some need, or seemed lesser or weaker than I actually was. This clarified in my mind what all sex, and power play games have in common.
Blatant insecurity.
Despite any unpleasant interactions I’ve experienced over the years with situations like this; I never felt I had to repay any dept or favors. My experiences did however make me think twice before accepting any further dinner invitations.
Share your story or stories of predicaments like this – I’d love to hear from men and women who might have been placed in similar (unwanted) reward sex situations.
We all have gone through our various romantic breakups somewhat unscathed. The guy wasn’t for us, we weren’t for someone else and that’s that. With a dissolution of a marriage; you have more invested. With divorce there is a separation of property, kids, dogs, clothing, artwork and egos.
But What about a break-up with a friend?
We are often prepared for traditional break ups, divorces, separations for good or bad; But what happens when a friendship is dissolved? Do you forget the person? Do you claim to erase this person like you would a romantic break up? The finality of a friendship breaking up and closing up is very confusing, and in some cases far more painful experience. The harsh reality is that: You can’t remain friends with a friend, who is an X.
How does one compute, and start the process of realizing the new reality (more so in my mind) of a friendship gone bad ?
In recent years, I’ve broken up with most of my family with far less scars or regrets than I did with friends. I’ve always regarded friendship as far more important than family, only because most of my family is toxic, vindictive and plain shit. What hurts most, is that you can be friends for years with someone, grow up together, see countless life changes, get over horrible moments together; and inexplicably something happens; the line breaks off, your paths split (sometimes violently) and whatever held you so close till then, disappears so quickly that you’re left wondering; how the hell do I get over this one, and was this really the friendship I thought it was?
Do you throw away their gifts and letters to you? Do you erase their messages? Do you burn their pictures in some sort of break up ritual and say “fuck em” like you would a jilted love affair?
What’s the protocol on ending a friendship?
I’ve had my fair share of friendships fading or souring over a long period of time, which in many cases had to do with outgrowing someone, but most recently I did experience a breakup with a friend I admired and valued immensely. I look back on the signs, the cracks in the foundation and wonder what started the wave that turned into a tsunami. I have often pondered what may have caused the abrupt ending; and trying see if there is any chance of it being repaired, but sometimes just like with lovers you have to say…
I guess you’re not that in to me and I’m not that bothered to change it.
As harsh and nonchalant as that sounds; I find that if a person actively and forcefully removes you from their life, or you them, it is clear that isn’t a friendship worth saving or fighting for. I’ve fought for friendships in the past; through thick and thin, from great distances, and with countless discussions and conversations, because ultimately what they signified in my life, was far more important than a bruised ego and multiple misunderstandings.
As we grow older however, we tend to weigh our options, and really see our friendships for what they really are. We are ultimately forced to place ourselves in the position of valuing ourselves as much (or more) as we value our friendships. To many of us (including myself); friendships are the backbone of our existence. We grow with our friends, these are the people who have seen the worst and the best of us, these are the people who know more about us than our parents, siblings, or our whole entire family. Yet all too often friends don’t want or care to follow us in our ever changing paths and don’t forgive us for our missteps and transgressions along the way, or simply aren’t equipped to go beyond their own limitations and egos.
When we move beyond the confines of our original path, and outgrow our fears we want our friends to be happy for us, not jealous, or worse wanting to derail, devour or belittle our efforts. If a friendship can’t support both the highs and the lows, the successes and failures, the fruitful explorations and regrettable decisions; that is not a friendship worth investing in, wasting your time on or having in your life.
Eleana Kouneli 