With Elli

At some point, you get tired of hearing how “great” you are — "You’re so talented!" "You’re beautiful, but you’d be even prettier if you lost some weight..." "If you just worked harder, you could do so much more.” So many “if only you were…” So many rules, so many expectations, and so many directions. But no one really shows you how to deal with yourself first. No one teaches you how to slow down, absorb the information life throws at you, and ask: Does this even fit me? What do I feel? How can I use this to understand myself, not fix myself? Even those who love you — they can still hurt you, unintentionally, quietly. There’s pressure even in care.                                                              Photo by Allec Gomes on Unsplash So I started watching. Listening. To people. To places. To myself. I began using t...

Every time I feel I am making a first step to put my life together — to make progress and finally start my life — I freeze. I panic. Even when I try to bring into reality the plans and effort I’ve already put in, I find myself pulling back. I start looking for excuses not to continue. I’m afraid of failing. I feel like I’m not worthy… or maybe I’m just scared to change. No matter how much pain I feel about the things I don’t like in my life — the difficulties I create for myself, and the ones shaped by my environment and society — they are familiar. They are part of me. I’ve gotten used to them. And what I’m not used to… is the unknown. Even if what’s out there is good — even if I could see the future and know it would be better — I still feel afraid. Because it’s not what I know. It’s not what I’m used to. And that makes me feel insecure.     Photo by Casey Horner                               ...

I moved from Greece to the Netherlands in my 30s. “But Odysseus… sat on the rock in torment, grieving in his heart, shedding tears…” “But nothing I know is sweeter than my own country and my parents, even if I dwell in a rich house in a foreign land…”   It wasn’t a reckless move — it was thoughtful, hopeful, necessary in many ways. But even now, years later, this place still doesn’t feel like home . And the ache for my hometown hasn’t softened. In fact, when you live with depression, it’s as if that ache has a microphone — everything is louder, heavier, and harder to carry. Homesickness isn’t just about missing a place. It’s about missing a version of yourself that belonged. That felt known. That didn’t have to explain anything. 💭 What I Miss Isn’t Just “Back Home” I miss the sea at the limani port — the way the light plays on the water, how the salt air wraps around your skin like a blessing. I miss coffee time with family — not just the drink, but the sacred ritual of talki...

 There’s a particular kind of grief that doesn’t always have a name. It isn’t about losing someone you loved. It’s about mourning someone who never truly existed — the parent you needed, but never had. For many, this grief quietly lives in the background. It hides beneath the surface of daily life, disguised as loneliness, confusion, or a persistent ache in the chest. It emerges when you watch others speak warmly of their parents, or when family-centered holidays roll around, or when you're faced with important life decisions and feel the absence of guidance, protection, or unconditional support. This grief is not about the parent who was present in body. It’s about the parent-shaped space — a space that might have been filled with silence, distance, unpredictability, or simply… nothing. And while this story is often spoken of in the context of the father , the same emotional reality applies to any primary caregiver — mother, father, or another figure who was meant to offer car...