Category Archives: on relationships

On all other kinds of relationships: family, friends, acquaintances, work people.

My best friend’s shoes

Posted on May 23, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 11 Comments

I don’t remember the first time we met.  It was so long ago.  I was six months old and she was a day old. The early years of our relationship was a whirl of parties.  I think we slept through most of them.  We may have even burped a little.  I don’t remember much from those times but I know that I hated her.

At three years old, she’d stand behind her mother’s legs and throw me death stares. She’d squint her eyes and and squeeze her lips into a blowfish mouth and she wouldn’t drop her gaze until I’d burst into tears, run to my mother and told her I wanted to go home. My mother would scold me:

“Oof! You’re crying AGAIN!”

A few years later her mother finally noticed that her daughter was terrorizing me. Words were probably exchanged and Maria finally stopped killing me softly with her big, droopy eyes. At ten, we belonged to different groups at school. She was popular, I was not. She was invited to boy-girl parties, I was not.  But we would spend every weekend with each other. She’d regale me with her stories and I’d take notes. This is who I want to be.

At eleven or twelve or however old we were when my father died, she held my hand before we left the house to go to the funeral. I wore my navy blue skirt and blazer with black shoes.  She wore a black dress with navy blue shoes. I told her that I felt bad that my outfit didn’t match my shoes, suddenly my shoes not matching was the tragedy of the day. She slipped off her shoes and gave them to me.

I still don’t know how we walked in each other’s shoes that day– her foot has always been bigger than mine–but we did and as all women know once you’ve swapped shoes with someone you’re best friends for life.

For as many years as we’ve lived on top of one another, we’ve also lived far away from each other. Sometimes a continent separated us, sometimes just a few countries, now we’re separated by a small sea and a handful of islands. Two years ago, she called me up late at night and I answered in a panic:

“What happened?”

“He proposed!”

I’d always heard that there are people who cry when they hear good news, I’d never been one of those people. When I learned that she was getting married, I cried. That is how much love I have for this woman. When she asked me to be her maid-of-honor, I couldn’t answer because I didn’t want to open my mouth. If I opened my mouth I didn’t know what noise would come out, so I just nodded my head and mmmm-ed.

Yesterday I hugged her for the last time before she hopped on the plane back home to make the final preparations for her wedding. We both cried this time. I held both her hands and looked into those eyes that used to frighten me and I said,

“Next time I see you’ll be married.”

I won’t be standing next to her on her wedding day. This kills me. But before she left and as tradition dictates, I wrote my name on the sole of her bridal shoe. Other unmarried female names will go on there and the one that’s scratched out at the end of day is the one that’ll get married next.


I wrote mine in the center telling her to step heavy because I can use all the superstition I can get. But secretly I don’t care which name stays on or not. My name is on her shoe which means that even if I can’t be at her wedding, the two of us will always find a way to walk next to each other.

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On my mother

Posted on May 8, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 5 Comments

My mother takes great pride in claiming responsibility for all my good qualities. On the other hand, all my faults are a direct result of one woman: my paternal grandmother and namesake.

This includes my physical and emotional ailments.When I was first diagnosed with Crohns disease, my doctors told us that it was hereditary and that it was highly likely that someone in our family already had it. My mother didn’t miss a beat:

“Your grandmother did always complain of intestinal pain.”

When I was first diagnosed with depression and anxiety I told my mother that this too was hereditary, she sighed and shook her head:

“You know your grandmother Eleni WAS a very sad person.”

It amuses me to no end but I never argue with her. She’s put up with a lot in her life and if she wants to take credit for my style, my smile and my excellent taste in crockery, she can! She makes sacrifices every day of her life so that I’m happy: if she wants to take credit for all my goodness I won’t take that away from her.

Besides, she might be right.

When I look at photos like this one, I’d be hard pressed not to admit that I probably DO get my style and my smile from my mother. From as far back as I can remember my mother was one elegant broad. She slipped up a bit in the 80s, but who can blame her, every single person in the world slipped up in the 80s.

One quality that I didn’t get from my mother is her childlike nature.When I look at her in that photo, so young and hopeful and I look at her now nothing seems to have changed. She’s not young at heart, her entire being is young. We practically have to remind her that she’s old now and when we do she laughs in our faces, puts her foot on the gas pedal and dares the 20 year old in the juiced up Honda next to us to a drag race.

Last night I was writing in the other room while she and my nephew watched cartoons. I’ve been wondering the reason he never wants to watch cartoons with me and I finally figured it out when I heard my mother laugh.

A school girl giggle rippled through the house and into my room. I followed the sound and watched from a far; neither of them aware that I was there.

My nephew wasn’t focused on Tom popping himself back into shape after he’d been trampolined into an accordion shaped cat. Rather he’s face was turned away from the TV and he was staring at my mother. By now her giggles had subsided but her entire face was glowing. He’s face lit up and he asked in his cute, broken Greek:

“Why are you laughing, yiayia? Tell me! Tell me!”

As she began to explain the unexplainable to him, his laughter following me back into my room I wished that I could someday find a way to thank her for being the one constant light in my life.

Much later while watching a show on TV, I laughed out loud. My mother was sleeping and my brother who happened to be there at the time, gave me a stern, reprimanding look and closed the door. But before the door closed, I saw his face: he was smiling.

One way I can truly thank her for all she’s done is to never argue with her when she takes credit for my phenomenal taste in fabric but to also accept that I’m more my mother’s daughter than I give her credit for. Because even though I’m rarely aware of it, I’m a light too.

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There must be a better way of doing this

Posted on April 27, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 10 Comments

It occurred to me recently that a lot of us (myself included) don’t really know the way to offer help to a friend who is suffering. It’s not like we don’t care, we do, we don’t like to see our friends suffer but we just don’t know what to do. We’ll say something like “You know that I’m always here if you need me right?” but looking back, I’ve never really taken up anyone’s offer on that. I knew that there was a way it could be done; to know the right way to help. So I took a magnifying glass to my memories and I investigated my syntax and I fell upon two stupidly easy questions. I’ve used them by chance here and there, but they’re not close to being a consistent part of my repertoire. When I have used them, I’ve witnessed grown men collapse into a pile of gratitude.

What can I do? How can I help you?

That’s it. It’s so simple. That’s the first thing you’ll hear when you call a customer care line, but sometimes the last thing you’ll hear from a friend. I don’t remember the last time someone asked me these questions. I don’t remember the last time I asked someone what I could do to help them. I hear voices on the other end of the line, and they tell me their problems and their struggles and I sympathize and I offer mindless tokens of comfort and then I hung up and go about my day. I’ll stop every now and again and feel terrible that I can’t find a way to help them. Why haven’t these questions become my mantra yet?

When I think about it that’s all I want anyone to do. I suspect that’s all anyone really wants me to do too.

We all just want to be asked: What can I do? How can I help you?

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Posted in on relationships, on self-discovery

{ask eleni} My best friend and I drifted apart. Now what?

Posted on April 5, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 5 Comments

Dear Eleni,

I’m not sure what to do. My best friend and I have been friends for about 7 years. When we first met we ended up living together and doing EVERYTHING together. Those were our younger years and everything was so much more carefree. Fast forward to 6 years later, she now lives  4 hours away and we don’t get to see one another often. Since we’re really busy with work, our phone calls are limited.

The problem is last year I felt our friendship dwindle; she wasn’t acting the same loving, kind way that I was used to. Actually she seemed quite annoyed with me. I asked her if she was mad at me once; at a time where I felt the strongest disconnect between us (in hindsight probably not at the most appropriate time; we were out with friends).

Months have gone by and our friendship is strong once more, but I still wonder what it was that I did wrong that made her become less then friendly with me. I have a trip to see her in a couple of weeks and I want to ask her what happened for those months when things were off between us. But I also think I should let the past be the past and not bring it up. What do you think?

Unsure

Dear Unsure,

I’ve found that this is quite a typical pattern that a lot of friendships follow after we leave the highly structured framework of our teens and early 20s behind.  Friendships can often become tricky.

We begin to take different paths. Some of us continue to higher education, some of us get jobs, others get breakdowns. Then later, some of us get engaged and married, some fall pregnant, while others remain single. Some of us go back to our hometowns; others move to big cities, others decide to travel the world. We meet new people and we have so much in common with these new people;  mainly because we see them every day and we’re on the same page.

Before you know it, you don’t remember the way your close friend takes her coffee. (Does she even drink coffee anymore?) Before you know it, your best friend will ask you to help her choose an outfit for a fancy shindig or a date, and you won’t be able to; because the last time you peaked into her closet was over five years ago and all you remember seeing were midriff-baring tops made out of polyester.

My point is that once we reach a certain age, we tend to drift apart from some of our closest and oldest friends; especially when they live far away, especially when our daily lives are no longer entwined as they were at school, or university or when we all lived together under one boisterous roof.

Sometimes, the physical distance will be responsible for the emotional one we feel. Distance will make you feel that the connection you once had has changed. Other times, there is emotional distance regardless of physical distance. This happens because of busy lives, changing paths and different phases.

But friendships that only flourish when the two people are in the same place, on the same path and in the same phase of their life are opportunistic friendships not life-long ones. I don’t mean to imply that an opportunistic friendship might not turn into a life-long friendship, it can! I only mean to say that we’ve got to be brutally truthful and aware of our friendships.

We’ve got to learn to make distinctions between them because if we don’t, we can get unnecessarily hurt. At every given moment of our life, we’ve got to be aware of what type of friendships we have.

I use this illustration to guide me. I call it: THE CIRCLES OF CLOSENESS. (To be fair, I didn’t come up with this. A therapist once showed it to me and I’ve used it ever since. So, idea not mine, name all mine.)

I am at the center. You and you and you should always be at the center of this, you hear me? Each concentric circle represents the level of closeness; every asterisks represents a name. This could be family, friends, work colleagues, acquaintances, blog friends, Twitter friends, anyone who is in your life.

The closer the circle is to ME the closer I am to that person. Each circle has its own set of needs and expectations from the people that float around in it. The hurt I feel and the action I choose to take is directly related to where that person is on my CIRCLE OF CLOSENESS.

A friend who becomes cold and distant but who is in my outer circle of closeness is not going to hurt me if they don’t call for a few months. I wouldn’t choose to have a conversation with this friend about the reasons they may have drifted away from me. And I wouldn’t expect them to offer an apology or an explanation. I would just be happy and excited when we did connect again.

But if a friend who is in my closest circle acted in the same way, I would be hurt and I would share my concerns with them; no matter where they lived, how often I saw them or how much time had passed.

It’s that simple.

The hard part of this is to make an accurate drawing in the first place. The first time I did it, I was tempted to put ALL MY FRIENDS into the circle closest to me. No wonder I spent so much of my 20s feeling angry, betrayed, ignored and hurt! When I looked at my friendships with honesty and kindness, I realized that some of those names didn’t belong in the circle closest to me. I adjusted their position, therefore adjusted my needs and my expectations. As a result, I was less likely to take offense and more likely to notice and appreciate all my friends for what they really were.

I’m not going to tell you whether or not you should discuss your feelings with your friend because I think it would be more beneficial if you made your own decision.

But, I will say this: friendships change. I make this drawing once a year. Some names stay in the same circle all the time. Some names have moved around; some names aren’t there anymore and sometimes a new name will pop up!

Our friends are our friends because they love and understand us. A couple of distant months between friends will happen now and again. It doesn’t mean that you love them less. It doesn’t mean that the friendship is over. It doesn’t mean they hate you or that you’ve annoyed them.

Sometimes, all it means is that for the time being, they’ve moved into a different circle.

Love,

Your thoughts?

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I’ll never be a good feminist

Posted on February 17, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 11 Comments

When I first moved back to Greece — after spending six years in England — I was shocked to find that rampant male chauvinism was still alive and kicking.

At first I was offended.

Did they not know that it was the 21st century; that men and women are equal?

Besides the often times patronizing attitudes that I was forced to witness from strangers, there was also those small, seemingly inconsequential behaviours from people I knew well.

At one of my first Sunday lunches with family friends, I huffed and threw dagger eyes because the men of the group sat chatting, smoking and shooting the breeze while all the women jumped up to clear plates and take care of all the toddlers that had suddenly exploded onto the scene.

To take a stand, I didn’t get up.

Instead, I remained seated and quietly gritted my teeth. This continued for two birthdays, a Christmas, an Easter and a summer BBQ. The woman jumped up, I remained glued to my seat.

I was trying to make a point.

It was on the second Christmas feast that my mother pulled me aside and said,

‘Look, I get you’re all WOMEN POWER, but you’re starting to look lazy now.’

That got me off my high horse real fast.

So, for the next series of lunches, dinners, special holidays, I cooked, I set the table, cleared and washed dishes and tidied up. I brought out dessert. I kept the kiddies entertained. I was still angry that none of the men were expected to do the same thing but I felt cornered.

I thought I only had two choices: behave like a woman is supposed to behave in this country OR behave like a brat.

I went with the first choice.

Besides, it’s not like men don’t do anything; they are in charge of the BBQ aren’t they? Still it’s hardly equal. BBQ duty involves me running in and out bringing trays and tongs and lemons while my brother-in-law flips over meat and drinks beer.

Despite this, I swallowed my pride and went along with it: all in the name of adapting to this country.

This Christmas, a much older family friend noticed the difference.

“Wow, Eleni, I didn’t know you were so domesticated!?”

My initial reaction was to push his face into my soapy suds and drown him. But there were too many witnesses so I flashed him my biggest smile and replied,

“Well, only when I want to be.”

He thought that was hilarious. He walked around the room sharing my retort to the different groups that had scattered around the living room; men one side, the women on the other. I’ll let you guess who was sitting with the children.

But, I guess it was funny because it was true.

It’s not that I mind being  domesticated. Actually, I quite enjoy it. I’d probably make a sparkling housewife. And like it. I just don’t like the expectation. I don’t like the expectation that because I am a woman I should do it. I don’t like his implied judgment: that if I’m not domesticated, I’m not as good a woman.

Most of my friends have argued that this is changing. That our generation doesn’t really subscribe to these traditional ways of thinking about men and women. I’m still not convinced though.

I’m not convinced because women’s own attitudes to themselves are still stereotyped. At the beginning of the year, while discussing the wording on the tax disc we’d just been issued for our road tax, a Greek girl I know shrugged and said:

“I don’t even bother reading the instructions. My boyfriend will put it on my car for me.”

I wanted to shake her and scream, “No, no, no. You’re just perpetuating stereotypes here. Read the damn instructions and do it yourself!”

If Alexia and I can figure out how to attach a toilet seat to the bowl AND assemble an IKEA bookcase in a couple of hours (OK, several hours), then surely she can learn to peel and stick?

The other day while playing our weekly game of cards at my mother’s place, the doorbell rang and my brother asked me to get the door. I was in the middle of my turn and replied,

“Um, why don’t you get the door? Why should I get the door? Is it because I’m a woman?”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“Not this again. Listen, why don’t you accept your role and use it to your advantage instead of kicking up a fuss over nothing?”

He eventually got the door and I eventually got his point.

I do use my feminine charms when it suits me.

I’ve gotten out of parking tickets with big, naive eyes and silly smiles. I’m a hypocrite because I like it when a man pays on the first date. I want him to pay. If he doesn’t, if he’s one of those ‘We’re all equal, let’s split the bill’ types I lose a little respect for him. Once I hit a man’s side mirror, broke it and after batting my eyelashes at him for five minutes I got him to apologize to me.

And I like that I can still do that here.

I want attitudes about women to change in Greece. I don’t want a women’s first response to be “Oh, I’ll get a man to do it” before she has even tried. I don’t want my worth as a woman to be judged by the way I iron a man’s shirt. (For the record, I do it terribly. Too many corners and I don’t have enough patience.)

I’m a hypocrite because I want attitudes about women to change but I’m not ready or willing to give up any of the perks of being a woman.

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It’s all relative

Posted on February 16, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 6 Comments

On his way back from school, Big Nephew stopped by my place to say hello.

Me: I love you so much.

Nephew: �[Adorable, heart-breaking smile]

Me: Ahhh! I can’t take it, you’re so cute. I love you so much! How is it possible for me to love you this much?

Nephew: [Bigger smile but begins to slide towards the door.]

Me: Do you know how much I love you?

Nephew: How much? [Still moving towards the door.]

Me: I love you to the moon and back!

Nephew: I love you…I love you….I love you… to the car and back.

(In my defense, that’s an epic distance for a tired four year old who just wants to get home and play with his trains. )

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The lion sleeps tonight

Posted on February 3, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 16 Comments

I’m walking on a dirty sidewalk and it’s morning. As I reach an intersection, the light turns red. I stop and stand still like a well-behaved child. I feel a figure next to me move. I look up and see a harried looking man in his late 40s carrying a worn-out leather briefcase. He looks both ways and then dashes across the street. The cars slow down and allow him to pass. I would never attempt that, I think to myself.

I can’t judge distance to save my life.

I’m also in a rush. I probably look as troubled as he does. I’m going to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription that will allow me to breathe. I needed it yesterday, but the pharmacies have been on strike. With only two blocks to go, I exhale. You’re almost there, babe. The light turns green. I cross over and pick up my pace.

At the next street crossing, there is no light. There’s no stop sign either. I’ve got to cross over on my own. I can see the pharmacy from here. I’m so close. In just a few steps I’m going to be there. I exhale. I wait for a few cars to pass by and an old woman stands next to me. She drops her shopping bag as she moves it from one hand to the other. A lemon pops out and rolls away. I run to pick it up for her. She smiles and thanks me.

I turn back to face the crossing. I look left and I look right; no cars. My one foot hits the road. Every time I cross a street, I remember my dad holding my hand when I was a kid. We’d look both ways and then he’d say: In like a lamb, out like a lion. I’ve crossed intersections that way all my life.

I carefully put one foot on the street, I look left, I look right, another foot and I’m about to step up my pace when–

–a jet black car appears in front of me, swerves ever so slightly to his left and then stops. I jump back in fright. The driver looks over his shoulder back at me. He screams profanities. I can hardly hear them over the noise of his engine bar one; cunt. Before I have time to respond he races off at the same speed; obnoxiously fast for a one-way.

Even, if he hadn’t driven away, I wouldn’t have said anything. I never do: I go in like a lamb and I go out like a deer in headlights.

My eyes wide open and my tongue-tied by surprise. As often as I find myself at the receiving end of someone’s else bad day, I still find myself completely stunned by it. Every time someone is mean without good reason, aggressive without justifiable cause, I say I’ll stand up for myself and every time it happens I don’t.

My father would be so disappointed with me. It’s only now that it occurs to me that he wasn’t teaching me to cross roads safely, he was also giving me the tools I needed to cross people.

Yesterday and today and all those other times before, when I was called names, when I was attacked, when I was put in corners and I didn’t stand up for myself, I imagine him somewhere in the shadows whispering, “Out like a lion, Eleni. Out like a big, proud lion.”

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{30 days of truth} Day 9 | On friendships

Posted on January 31, 2011 by Eleni Zoe| 6 Comments

Honestly, I’m getting nothing out of this second to last prompt. (Day 09 ? Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.) But it did jog my brain and reminded me of a post I wrote on friendship years ago. (The Forgotten Friends is relevant to this prompt.) I’m re-posting here today, with a few changes. It’s something light to counter the heaviness of the last few posts.

Enjoy!

A list of all the friends you’ve probably known…

The LIFELONG FRIEND: She’s the friend that goes with any outfit. She remembers (and has the photos to prove it) the obsession you once had with Lycra pants, over-sized tops and Micky Mouse prints and still loves you. Nay, she still respects you.

The HIGH SCHOOL FRIEND: She’s like a pair of your most comfortable shoes. A friend who sticks by you through stinky feet, sprained ankles and even broken bones. She is always there. Even when you leave her behind, put on your stiletto’s and decide to run in heels for awhile.

The DITZY FRIEND: She is the annoyingly beautiful denim skirt that rides up when you walk, but that you simply can’t bear to live without it. So, instead you try find ways to beat the system. You start walking slower and sitting more carefully. After all, a good denim skirt is really hard to find.

The UNIVERSITY FRIEND: A girl that spices up any outfit. She is that glittery pin, that kooky beret, the multicolored scarf. You don’t always wear them but when you do, you feel like anything could happen!

The COOL FRIEND: She’s a pair of Aviator sunglasses. Fun, sexy and at the height of fashion. She lives wildly, passionately and always in the fast lane. She inspires you to take chances. The aviator look does not suit everyone but she shows you that you are totally allowed to go into the sunglass shop and try them on.

The CAN’T PUT A LABEL ON HER FRIEND: She is like a ‘stache on a stick. So funny and ironic and is it just me, but sexy? You only use it come out on special occasions. And when you do it is magical. You think of them often and those memories tend to make you giggle.

The FRIENDS YOU DON’T SPEAK TO: Like a pair of jeans that don’t fit anymore. They provided you with some lovely times. Supported you through the good and the bad but slowly, slowly faded away. They lost their shape, hung off your bum and sadly had to be chucked.

The FORGOTTEN FRIENDS: Like the gypsy skirt, or the cute 50s dresses, or the batwing tops that you loved so much. Unfortunately, they went out of fashion. You still have them though, buried deep in your closet. Sometimes you take them out, look at them, and remember the days you wore them. You keep them there, you don’t give them away because you know that, in time, some things will always come back in style.

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