Summer in Greece – Mental Reflection

And here it is—my last night in Greece. I’m sitting by the fireplace (side note: it's 22 degrees at night, which is “cold” for here), sipping the last of the good wine, and savoring the final “unreal” meal—but more on that later. I'll spill the details in about a week.

So, my Greece adventure started back in June and now, here I am in October, wrapping it up. I wasn’t here the whole time, though—I flew back for work here and there—but most of the summer I spent in this beautiful country. I visited five islands and two mainland cities.

The outcome? Definitely not what I expected.

To be honest, when I started this trip, it had a totally different meaning. I wanted time to figure out what I want in life, where I want to live, what my purpose is. I wanted to forgive and forget.

But in reality, it was always an escape. An escape from the thoughts, the trauma, and the pain. I didn’t want to admit it before, but now I can say it out loud: I was running. From everything that felt too hard to deal with at home.

And guess what? Running didn’t help. But it made it easier to carry the burden.

What was supposed to be a solo journey turned into me being around other people about 70% of the time. I only had about 2.5 weeks really on my own.

But during those quiet moments, I started to feel the same things I was feeling back home. The difference was, being far away gave me the clarity to sit with those feelings instead of running to the hospital thinking I was dying. It wasn’t easy, and it was exhausting, but I faced them.

Healing isn’t fast. It wasn’t a quick fix for me, because the trauma I faced didn’t happen overnight either. It was years of build-up, so why would it disappear in just a few months? Therapy also brings stuff up you have to deal with, and that’s tough too.

Now, let me tell you about my Greece experience.

I started in Zakynthos, surrounded by people almost all the time. It was a slow start. Four days before I left, I wasn’t even sure I’d go. The symptoms I had at home were hitting hard, and I was torn between checking into a clinic or just going for it. So, I went for it. I even had two panic attacks on the way to the airport—got off the train and almost turned back home.

But then I asked myself: if I have to get on a train anyway, why not keep going?

I remember sitting at the train station, analyzing the situation: A bunch of guys came in the train which triggered my anxiety (there was a football game happening), but did anyone really notice me? No. Did anyone make me feel unsafe? Not at all.

Did I have the money to pay for a €400 taxi just to soothe my anxiety? Definitely not.

So, I got on the next train.

When I arrived in Düsseldorf, I cried—relief, pain, everything. I realized how far I had come, even though I felt so broken. The person who used to be fearless now had fears of everything. The person who used to smile and laugh was now only faking smiles for pictures. The joy I used to find in everything was gone, I wasn't able to feel it anymore.

But I still showed up at the office like nothing had happened. Just like after every panic attack, I would clean myself up and get back to work, pretending like it was just another day. I didn’t realize how much strength that took back then, but now I think, “Damn, girl, you made it through so much, and you still shined at work.”

Zakynthos was hard. Anxiety, depersonalization, even a flashback (thanks, PTSD). But it was also the place where I started appreciating the small things again—the stars, the moon, deep conversations, dancing on the beach. I’d often forget the good things, though, because my mind was always fighting against itself. That’s why grounding is so important—feeling, seeing, smelling. It brings you back to the present.

I used to have weeks when I couldn’t see any progress, but I kept going. I wanted to give up so many times—not in the way you might think, but in terms of going on medication or checking into a clinic. But I didn’t. I kept pushing forward.

And today, I realize something I couldn’t see before: I wasn’t breaking even more, I was unfolding. Unfolding into the woman I am now and the woman I’m becoming.

In Skopelos (yes, the Mamma Mia place), I was alone for 1.5 weeks. I thought I’d go out every night, meet new people, and live it up. But instead, I worked overtime—probably on purpose, just to avoid going out. I had days when I barely left the hotel. Even when my parents came to visit, I’d ask them to stay close to the hotel. I was stuck in my anxiety, unable to see the bigger picture—the surrounding beauty, the view, the company, the food.

But I don’t blame myself for it. You shouldn’t either, if you’re going through something similar. It’s hard to break out of that trance when you’re in it.

After Skopelos, I went home for a while, and things got bad again. Anxiety hit hard—dizziness, fainting, constant shaking. That’s when I started seriously thinking about moving somewhere new.

Next up was Corfu, where I attended a spiritual festival. I won’t dive too deep into the festival itself, but there’s one experience that really stood out. It was a lot of yoga, energy healing, and meditation, and everything was so intense that it drained me—I needed 10 hours of sleep just to recover each day. But there was one yoga session that was absolutely groundbreaking for me. It was somatic yoga, which also involved somatic release, and during one exercise—where you slowly open and close your thighs—I started shaking and crying uncontrollably without even understanding why at first.

A few seconds later, it clicked. The images came into my mind, but not in the PTSD flashback way. It was more like I was finally releasing them—the pain, the memories, the touches. It was overwhelming, and after that, I couldn’t go back to another session (and that was only day 3 out of 5). It was just too much for me to handle at that moment.

But releasing it didn’t mean it vanished from my mind. What changed was my acceptance of it. It felt like closure, like I was finally able to let go. And that’s really what this journey is about—working on yourself so these things can become memories, not flashbacks that you have to relive over and over again.

Today, I had a brief depersonalization moment—just a few seconds of dizziness. My first instinct was to check my blood pressure, but then I accepted it. I’ve been through it so many times before, and it passed just as quickly as it came.
So, this is what Greece did for me. It gave me the space to understand my trauma better. It wasn’t a summer full of parties, boys, and alcohol. It was a summer that helped me face what I went through and realize that none of it was my fault. What I’m experiencing now, and what I’ve been going through over the past few years, are just the repercussions of that past. But the past is the past.

I’m healing now, and one day, I’ll be able to feel happiness again. I’m slowly starting to feel it already—just two days ago, I watched the sunset and started crying because it was so beautiful. That moment showed me I’m moving forward, little by little.

Every day is a small win. Even on the bad days, it’s still a win because I get out of bed and keep working toward a normal life.

The struggle isn’t over. There will be more tough moments. But now I know that it’s just something from my past, and my body remembers it so I can heal.

When I started this blog, I wanted validation. But I found a different kind of validation—the kind that comes from knowing other people are going through the same thing and finding comfort in not being alone. My biggest fear was that talking openly about it would mean fully admitting what I went through and then actually having to explain myself. I was terrified of that. But it also turned into something completely different, because my parents became my biggest supporters. I was afraid of their reaction, or more, I was afraid of how much they will hurt reading it. But after reading my articles, they always tell me how proud they are of me. That support means everything and gives me the strength to keep going.

So keep fighting those internal demons. You will win.

Love, 🌜