There's More To ME (eBook)

...Living With MS...

Emmie Stathopoulos (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2021 | 1. Auflage
188 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-0983-9947-4 (ISBN)

Infos

Born and raised in Montreal, Qc, Canada. Emmie was very active. She had instruction in various dance genre, including classical ballet for which she studied 12 years. She dabbled in gymnastics, played badminton, tennis, and softball. She was a volunteer mom on school outings and fieldtrips. Then in 1999, Emmie discovered she was afflicted with Multiple Sclerosis. Emmie is a firm believer that the body heals itself. She went through as many books as she could find on the subject, read about how some people cured themselves, the different diets, the different medical options, the traditional and not traditional methods etc. She sought out private practitioners and even tried self-healing. For years Emmie struggled with the physical changes and fought the emotional roller coaster. While working with a hypnotist (part of her healing process) Emmie discovered a number of hidden emotions, memories and beliefs. Realizing she is not alone, Emmie decided to share her experience, to let others who suffer similarly, know they are not alone.

Textauszug

Chapter 1
Who I am, where I came from

My story. The story of me, my life (or lack of), living and coping with MS. The story of who I was, what I was, who I have become, and more. If I can help other MS sufferers (survivors), I am pleased. At the very least, I am telling my story and hope that someone will find a positive message.

You will discover (soon enough) that I am not a professional writer. This book is by no means a literary masterpiece. This book is a result of therapy. It is a compilation of my thoughts and actual experiences. And with that explanation, I welcome you into my mind. Be forewarned, it is going to be a bumpy, emotional, revealing, and scary ride. And at times, it will be ugly.

Although I was christened Mary Ellen, I go by the name Emmie. I will explain that later. I am 57 years old. And I will be 57 until I hit 70, at which time I will be 63. That’s my math and I’m sticking to it. Of course, my friend Marie knows exactly what I mean since she and I calculate our age the same way. Marie and I have been friends since we were 8 years old. And at 57 we are still going strong.

Before I get to the explanation of Mary Ellen, I want to introduce you to my parents.

My mother Catherine, Ekaterini.

Katy to her friends. My mother was born in Crete, one of Greece’s most beautiful islands. She came to Canada at the beginning of the 1950s. She had quite the journey. I say had because she died in 2015. She suffered with and struggled with dementia.

Mom was born in a small village on the isle of Crete. She was possibly one of the smartest and most determined women I have ever known. Mom was the second born to my grandparents Maria and Dimitri (aka James in North America).

My grandmother, as my mother has told me, was a stunningly beautiful woman. Very much so. When yiayia (grandma) Maria was in grade 3, she was expelled from school because her beauty was a ‘distraction to the boys’. She must have been a beautiful child too.

My papou (grandfather) Dimitri was what I imagine would today be the equivalent to an city councilor. I don’t know how they met, but I know my grandmother was 27 when they got married. I do not know how old my grandfather was. Mom heard stories from my grandmother that her Dimitri was a wonderful husband. Yiayia had told mom, that when the political party he represented was in power, they lived well. But when the elections went the other way, they suffered financially.

On Sundays, when Dimitri was home, he wouldn’t let my grandmother do any housework. He would take over. When the village women said anything or tried to shame my grandmother, he would step in and tell them in no uncertain terms, that his wife worked hard at maintaining cleanliness 6 days a week. He believed strongly that when he was home, she would rest! Wow! Too bad he wasn’t there to protect my grandmother when she was permanently expelled from school.

Mom barely remembers her father. He died of pneumonia before her second birthday. She had an older brother, Leonida (Leonard in North America), who became the father figure in her life - unfortunately, for a very brief period. From timelines I have pieced together, Leonida was born in 1920. My mom came by 8 years later.

Hmmm. I just realized Star Trek’s two main characters shared the names of my grandfather and uncle. Cute!

My mother loved her brother. He was superbly handsome. She had only one photo of him which she brought with her when she emigrated to Canada. It is now in my possession. She also brought with her an old dictionary (Greek to English / English to Greek) which belonged to her brother. Those were the only two things she had of her brother.

I remember that dictionary. It was always by her side. It was her treasure. It was all she had that had belonged to him, and it was never out of her sight. The cover was a thin leather. The pages had tiny print and were rice paper thin. They were sepia in colour, and the print was in the same brown tone as was the cover. This little dictionary was 3 x 5, but to my mother it was her world. I am now sorry I didn’t hang on to that dictionary when my mom’s house was cleared after her death.

My father and mother were having a heated argument one day. (They argued, a lot.) My father took mom’s dictionary and threw it across the room. The book spine broke, and some page sections came loose. Mom immediately went and got it. She also spewed several well selected adverbs and adjectives towards my father. She was beyond angry, beyond outraged. Of this I am certain, because until this incident, I had never heard my mother swear. I did not even realize my mother knew how to swear. In any language - (and she could converse in 4 languages). I never heard her swear like that, ever again.

Back to the dictionary, she used a needle and thread and put her beloved brother’s dictionary back together. She held the cover together with masking tape.

They say with every fight, a piece of the couple’s togetherness gets destroyed. The tape may have held the dictionary together, but it would have taken a container full of tape to reunite my parents. I wonder sometimes if my father knew how much damage that outburst caused; and (frankly) whether he cared.

In my eyes, my yiayia Maria (Mary), was a formidable woman. When my grandfather died, far too early, she was left completely alone to bring up their two children. No welfare, no government subsidies, no widow’s pension, no education, and no job. (As if she could leave a 2-year-old and work outside the house). She lived in the house my grandfather had built, no indoor plumbing, no electricity. But she did it. She made it work. And I am in total awe of her. From what I understand, she did laundry and odd chores for neighbours in exchange for food to feed her children, and herself.

WWII came. History tells us that the German forces were met with extreme resistance in their attempt to occupy Greece, especially the isle of Crete. To demonstrate superiority, and to punish the citizens for their defense/defiance, the German army posted on Crete gathered all the men of my mom’s village (men who were too young or too old to be serving in the Greek army), and they shot them dead, executed them in the public square.

My mom did not witness the executions, but my grandmother did. Her son was executed in front of her. What horror! Her firstborn child, her son, gone! From that day on she wore nothing but black. Mom said that my grandmother drenched everything in the house in black, including the sheets and pillowcases. Understandably it scared my mother, and she hated the colour black for years and years.

Why am I telling you about my maternal grandmother (and soon I will tell you about my mother)? Because I share the DNA of these two ladies. I share their memories, curses and patterns. Their memories molded my life. Want it or not, like it or not, my life is a result of, and/or continuation of theirs.

My mother and grandmother struggled during the German occupation. They were rationed food. Mom remembers being given a handwritten ticket allocating her and my grandmother to 3 kilos of potatoes. She heard my grandmother say that would not be enough to get them through the winter. Having seen the concern in my grandmother’s face, mom changed the 3 to an 8. She knew if what she had done was discovered, she would have been executed on the spot. She did it anyway, and although she was scared, she didn’t show it.

Fast forward 5 horrible years ... the war had ended. Left behind was poverty, destruction, and devastation. My mom realized that she had to do something to support herself and her mother. So, she left for Athens. She did not want to leave her mother to deal with life by herself and completely alone, but she knew she had no other option. She had to help, whatever that took. Singlehandedly, she put herself through dressmaking school. She worked and not only supported herself, but with every pay, she sent money to Crete to support her mother.

Mom ACED her exams. She was a natural. She could even create her own patterns. I remember seeing her graduation certificate. The red seal, and 100% in large font. Her photo was next to the seal. I remember when looking at it, I saw a very young mom, I remember thinking how beautiful she was, and how talented. I don’t know what happened to that framed certificate or where it is now. Maybe my sister has it.

In Greece at the time, (and I imagine in other European cities), good dressmakers lived in the home of the family for whom they sewed. They were live-ins. My mother was hired by and lived with the family of a bank manager. I remember hearing the family name. For reasons of privacy, I will just refer to them as Family K. Mom loved and respected the lady of the house. Mrs. K. became my mother’s mentor and had a huge impact on her life. Mom often spoke of the time spent with this family, and of the wise teachings she received there.

Since my mother lived at the home of Family K., she had no expenses for room and board. She would send money to my grandmother and save the rest for her future, or as she would then refer to it, for rainy days.

Life went on. Like her mom, mom too was a very attractive woman. She made friends. And she caught the eye of many men. But she did not pay any attention to them or get swayed by anything that would alter her plans. She grew up relying only on herself, loving her family (dead and alive), respecting her folklore, and...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 14.10.2021
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• ISBN-10: 1-0983-9947-1 / 1098399471
• ISBN-13: 978-1-0983-9947-4 / 9781098399474