Rozanna Giannakis

Food, Photography, Travel & Writing

journal

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The way we were

(Photograph: Pia my daughter who is a person with special needs and her beloved grandpa who gave her a lot of love).

It would be almost three years from the time this picture was taken to the day of his death. Each spring and summer we would spend as much time as we could with Pia’s grandparents in Poland; their home tucked between hills, vast fields and forests; each spring a stork couple would return to a perfect giant nest high on top of their green house lovingly nurtured with organic lettuce, parsley even red peppers. I loved going there so much! But at first, I did not!! Country farm life was a tad too real for a spoilt city girl like me and I’d almost reluctantly join Pia’s Dad, my then boyfriend on the very long drive from Vienna to Poland. I’d teeter around in very high heels even amongst the chickens and rabbits with lots of make-up and get really annoyed in the morning stumbling into their kitchen for coffee just to find a neighbor or two, even a family member already in the kitchen at 7 a.m.! I wanted my peace and quiet, I did not want anybody God forbid, to see me without make-up.

As the years went by and especially after Pia’s birth, all the issues we had with her premature birth, the heartache of knowing she would always be a person with special needs, Pia’s Dad’s family circled around her with love, so much love! I had started walking barefoot among the rabbits and the chickens and could not wait to go downstairs to meet everybody for coffee early in the morning, the make-up got a bit less. I had changed. Love and the love the family gave Pia changed me. I always knew though, that those long summer days and fun nights with family and friends in Poland around the fire late, late into the night – I knew in my heart they were too perfect. I knew they would come to an end … I just did not think so soon and all one has to hold are pictures.

Even in the earlier years, I started hanging out with my then father-in-law way more, he was not a perfect person, no one is, but he had a generous heart. We had a good connection. Sometimes we would just sit in the summer sun, birds chattering in the trees surrounding their huge home, not saying a word. Just hanging out. Later even more so and especially when I heard of his illness. No one had told him that Drs predicted he only had two to three years to live and me, I tried to hold on to times I knew were slowly slipping out of my hands. The very last time I saw him, I told him “thank you for being the father I never had. You know that I love you”. He never spoke much, he looked at me and said in Polish “I know”. The next week he left. I was on a bridge over the Danube on a rainy day in Vienna when the call came through.

After he left, everything changed. I am so grateful that I came to my senses early on to realize that people, relationships, situations are not perfect – they never are and the moments we have with loved ones, friends … it’s important to consciously realize even remind ourselves daily, that they are not forever. Time slips away and faster than we think. The way things are today all too soon becomes the way we were, tomorrow.

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wounded

Sometimes life leaves you breathless one moment all is good and the next you’re on a path of self destruct questioning what lead up to this and how the signs were overlooked! Repeat behaviours: not believing that you are worthy of love, negative self-talk and leaning over to the whispers in your head “who do you think you are”, “did you really think you could”, “go back to where you came from” “look at them and look at you”.

I’ve spent so much time carefully building self confidence, nurturing wounds inflicted during childhood with careless words flung like bullets at my little child’s heart  by callous adults.  I admit that my past catches me from behind sometimes (as all cowardly acts do) and holds me in a deadly grip;  I start to feel the life force seeping from me, losing passion for creativity, writing, travel even for friends; it’s almost as if an internal struggle between life and death takes place in my mind and it takes every cell in my body not to give up on me. Then I remember to look at fear, I remember to look at doubt, I remember to step back and look at failure and the reminders thereof as if they are people I no longer associate with or an old untrustworthy car I used to drive but now I fly. I remember that the words spoken to me and over me are reflected back and returned to sender. More importantly though, I remember to forgive because they did not know what they were doing. I remember that the most powerful weapon in my artillery is forgiveness and that includes forgiving myself. I love the word “grace”, it means forgiveness even when guilty and that is what I strive for. Healing comes one positive affirmation at a time, one good thought at a time like little petals that ultimately form a beautiful flower, like raindrops that swell into a powerful lake, moments of right choices add up into days that turn into lifestyle.

It’s a topic very close to my heart; I do not think that parents and family in general are aware of what deep wounds they inflect into a child when they say negative, discouraging things. I have not really found any one thing that heals but I have found a way to move on from a damaged soul and still be happy and that is to speak to myself lovingly each day almost as if I were a little girl again (not in a weird Twin Peaks kind of way … no weirdness) but just encourage and remind myself that all those people in my past, have the right to have been wrong.

 

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Divorce. Loneliness. Change. Restoration

 

Loneliness. I recall one Friday afternoon very shortly after my daughter’s Dad dropped the bomb that he was leaving, sitting in my office vaguely aware of colleagues wishing me a beautiful week-end as they hurried off into their lives. I thought how unbelievable it was that  life was one way one moment and in the twinkling of an eye, another way the next. It’s the usual cliché, everything I had built up over 20 years suddenly fell apart; it seemed as if a huge wave came over and wiped away all traces of the life we knew. Suddenly other people replaced us. It was like a movie I was watching from a numb body.

Sitting at my desk alone that late Friday afternoon, I sank my head into my hands and wept.  However, through all of that I resolved to do things completely differently: I would not follow a route of bad-mouthing, I would not demand money, I would not force him to see his child – it would need to be either he wants to out of love and character or he did not,  I would not use our handicapped daughter as a chess game for manipulation, I would not speak about it to my colleagues until I was ready or never, I would not inquire and be curious about his new life. He was none of my business anymore and has the right to choose his happiness. Instead, I would focus on building a beautiful, new life for my sweet Pia and I. Conflict free.

The first six years after the divorce, I used for the restoration of my heart, learn new things and follow my dreams. Some might think that this is an awfully long time to be “single”. It was a very conscious decision. From the age of twenty three I had been in back-to-back relationships that lasted really long, had never been alone, did not know what it was like to completely make my own decisions, go where I want, say what I want. I did not even really know me! Most importantly though,  there was my daughter. I did not want her to deal with the instability of men coming or going in our lives so I created a cosy space for us where she would feel comfortable and was respectful and mindful that she too needed time to adjust, to grieve her Dad’s absence from home. I feel all too often, children are so badly neglected not necessarily physically but emotionally as we adults are keen to take care of our personal needs when a partner leaves. It’s hard for children, my heart bleeds for them.

The only way I could approach my new life in a healthy, balanced way was to ensure that my body, mind and soul was taken care of. Each decision I was going to make would come from a point of restoration. So I changed my eating habits. Changed my thought process from fear, negativity and doubt to believing that I have the power, am equipped and able to do way more than I thought I could. Yes, there were and still are, uncomfortable moments; stepping out and putting oneself out there, learning new things, walking down unknown pathways … it’s scary, it’s uncomfortable, it can be lonely. The thing is though, life is so much more than hopping into the next relationship, getting back at someone, rehashing disappointments. I feel that there is too much fear of being alone and it leads us to settle for less, make very poor decisions and very often, return to the same mistakes just in a different form.

In closing, my life now is beyond anything I could have imagined, however,  I do want to be real  and add that it is hard work and entails alot of falling down, getting up, sacrifice and help. (One of the things I have had to learn is to ask for help which is hard as I value my independents). The secret is to become selfish and to understand that it’s our duty and we owe it to ourselves and loved ones to take care of ourselves mentally, physically and spiritually; allow those who want to leave  to leave, declutter – not to “show” anyone anything but to free yourself from the old and move into the new. Decluttering played a huge role in transforming my life. Lift up your head, dry your tears, look!!! – a new day has come. 

 

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Marilyn Monroe and me (cough) & learning to trust your decisions

 

Recently I listened to a documentary on Marilyn Monroe; one of the comments that came through repeatedly was that she had a huge amount of self doubt, did not trust her judgement and mostly relied on the opinions of others which of course led to a potluck of emosions and her running to and fro never sure who she was because she was so busy heeding others. Of course, beautiful Marilyn is no longer here and we cannot truly know this was really how she was – it’s after all, once again, just the opinions of others who claim to have known her.

I had a very caring and loving Mum she was, however, extremely dominating. From choosing clothes, boyfriends etc. to going out, those were decisions at the age of 23, I was not allowed to make, when I did and they were wrong all hell broke loose. I felt inadequate, numb – not able to trust my choices so I let others do it for me assuming that I would be wrong anyway. There is such a danger in that. The inner compass gets lost and one never learns to trust yourself. Yes, that does entail making mistakes, taking responsibility and not expecting others to clean up after you. I’ve painfully discovered that making wrong decisions is part of life and a very essential ingredient to personal growth. There have been times when I’ve hesitated, fearful of risk, failure or moving forward – it equated to nothing but stagnation. Sometimes, someone else came along and stole my idea because I hesitated too long and that is particularly frustrating. Whether it’s being creative, a business venture, a relationship of course, be smart, listen to a very selective few who are knowledgeable that’s vital but never lose the ability to hear your own voice, know your own passion, feel your own heart beat. It takes time and self training and improves when one starts to declutter people, stuff, too many opinions and move away from the noise.

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To my darling Pia. Thank you for fighting

 

Twenty two years ago on this day at 5 a.m. I started experiencing the most intensive pain I’d ever had. I bit into my husband’s hand and he let me, he knew that this was something that was so painful that I needed all the support I could get;  blood started gushing out of me and I was rushed to hospital. I was told that my child was on her way – three months too early. A doctor gently but firmly told me that I needed to prepare myself for something very sad and asked if I wanted to keep the baby or if they should give me something to abort because if I kept her and she lived, my life would be very hard. My husband and I did not waver; we were terrified and tired but we wanted to keep her.

Pia was born 500 grams and three months premature. For 2 months she fought for her life. For almost one month, we were reminded that the odds were against her to make it. Once, in the middle of the night sick with worry, we called the intensive care (we were not permitted to stay in hospital while she was in intensive care) and were told to come because it was not looking good; her breathing was growing weaker and weaker. By the time we arrived, she had somehow managed to hang onto the last thread of life. She fought … she wanted to live and she did.

The oxygen in the incubator caused severe damage to Pia’s retina and the nerves of her eyes with the result that she became almost totally blind. In addition, because her organs were so underdeveloped at the time of her birth, a very tiny pipe called a SHUNT had to be operated into her head so that the neuro fluids could flow correctly out of her body otherwise, she would have what used to be termed “a water head”. Pia also started having severe epilepsy due to the trauma of blood getting into her brain causing brain damage.

45 operations later, countless weeks in hospitals, experiencing rude doctors even wrong medication, chronic epilepsy in the underground, in the car on the highway – fearing for her life; crying because of kids pointing and laughing at her and being told by a family member “God is punishing you because you did not get married in church” to being told “you must have done something wrong in your previous life” to being insulted “you could not get it right”, through all those painful years, my daughter Pia stood strong. She sang, she laughed, she fought for her life. One morning I was so down, asking why? Why had “this” happened to me? The words “because God loves you and He knows you can handle it” just don’t cut it with me. In fact, I cannot understand how people can even say that. So, as I was crying bitter tears again after having to experience children laughing at my child. I felt really sorry for myself. From the bedroom I could hear Pia’s laughter and her beautiful voice, she’s always singing, always happy (sometimes she’s really difficult and that’s her right). And I recall that moment because it was a decisive one that changed everything:

“if Pia, who is blind, mentally handicapped and dependent on the help, mercy and love of others for the rest of her life can sing and be so happy, then surely I, healthy, strong and independent can be happy too”.

Now, we have the most beautiful life but it is hard; this after all, is not paradise yet  but I am so grateful for the lessons my beautiful daughter has taught me. I am so grateful for the people in our lives, the heros, the caregivers, those who have given their lives to helping and being the difference between sinking or swimming.

So in closing, the intention of this very personal reflection is to encourage anybody out there in real life land; if you are going through a dark time, if you feel that life is unfair and you just cannot go on; if you are isolated, abandoned by someone or even more who promised to be by your side but left  because the daily grind is not romantic – it’s not a pretty picture on instagram or Face Book – real life is shit hard when one is dependent on doctors, caregivers, the mercy of others. But you know what, real life is also beautiful. Hold on to it as my sweet Pia did and still does. Find something that uplifts your life makes you healthy, builds your body and makes you strong. Find your song and sing it loud like Pia does.

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Is your “yes” valued?

 

I want my time to be respected and I want to respect my time. I want to learn to say “No” and be more mindful to what I agree to so that my “Yes” has value.

I want to consume less and create more. I want to purchase less stuff and accumulate more experiences.

Learning to streamline my personal space and words, living more intentionally so that each item in my home has purpose and a place – less clutter; being more selective with outside influences and how much time I dedicate to them has been one of the most difficult yet rewarding talks I’ve had to have with myself. In my experience, it is very often the people whom we love the most who do not really pay attention to be mindful of the time we give and make for them and it frequently becomes something that is taken for granted. However, no one can do to us what we do not allow (under normal and humane circumstances); it is with this realization and after sitting through yet another meet up in which the other person glanced at their phone and answered yet another call for the so manyth time, that the “I can’t do this anymore” feeling washed over me and refused to leave no matter what excuses I made. This mindset just continued to gain momentum right into things I own: more than half the clothes in my closet I do not wear, the very expensive Louis Vuitton bag that would have cost an air ticket to a magical experience, is no longer the object of desire; my fridge fridge needs clearing too often because it was filled to the brim barely able to accommodate all the food my stomach cannot possibly hold and all because I said “yes” without discernment.

There is something about excess that breeds a certain kind of contempt, lack of respect, sometimes even chaos. We’ve been indoctrinated with the notion that excess means wealth but I am beginning to wonder if this is the case, why are western cultures in general, less happy. Why is a baby happier playing in the mud than with yet another toy. Why, despite having more do we want more; why do I feel happier naked in a stream than eating at a fancy restaurant. Why is creativity becoming so hard when it should flow. I think it’s because we are saturated and over stimulated we say yes to too much and want to cram everything into our lives never really being here or there but mostly everywhere. 

It’s as if we have put our time on sale and everybody and everything now has access to it. I feel it’s because our “yes” is no longer selective or special. Quiet moments, uncluttered lives, less visual stimulation,  information overload – more “no” and less yes.

I understand now why we have to seek to find … I think because it makes things so much more special, cherished and valuable.

 

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Caught in the Rain

Caught in the pouring rain today, I did not run …let the wind flirt with my dress felt its fabric cling to my skin. Smudged mascara, dripping hair and for a nano second my soul touched the child.