Grace Under Pressure

Can't decide what to title this post. i've been avoiding writing this. i don't want to put it down because then it will be real. something is going on inside me...feels familiar yet foreign. that weight of life. this curtain coming down, distancing me from the world around me. disconnecting me. is it a mood problem? it feels darker than that. heavier than that. is it a spiritual malaise? i think so. but it feels even more than that. 

reaching out to hold my son, his smile warms me up, makes my heart beat softer. lean over and kiss my husband, his love awakens me, his strength sustains me, how did i get so lucky? it's this very question that has kept me from wanting to write this. i'm craving an escape from this physical/mental/emotional unrest inside of me. I'm looking for an out. and the reality of that disappoints me immensely. after everything i have been through, the absolute HELL i lived through, somehow survived through, after the spiritual awakening that carried me into a new way of life - and yet here I am, feeling uneasy for a few days and jumping into the fantasy of what a drink or drug can do for me. Need a RESET button for all of my champagne problems...is that nails on a chalkboard or is that the sound of a whining privileged entitled woman who needs a reality check... 

The first time my husband shared the concept of "being good at all of it..." with me it was the summer of 2019 and I was experiencing a very real, very difficult situation. It tested my inner strength, it made me question my faith, had me doubting every truth i thought i lived by...my reality was getting distorted, my resilience was waning. and i shared with my husband that i was having waves of hopelessness, wondering if i should just jump in front of a train because what was the point of it all...it was then that my husband shared a very powerful perspective with me. He asked me if i knew what sets the winner of a race apart from the second place finisher. I shook my head "no...they're just better i guess?" and he said "how are they better? both are the best at what they do...but one is better at "being good at all of it"...”

What is "all of it"? It is the planning that goes into race day. it is getting to the city a few days early... it is driving to the venue the day before. it is knowing what you will have for dinner the night before. It’s practicing in your race day outfit. it’s guarding your psychic space as sacred ground, protecting it against any outside noise. It’s meditating between heats...minimizing the distractions. It’s being at the starting line early. and finally, the most important piece: it is knowing how to "rest inside the work,”  cultivating equanimity, accessing grace under pressure...better than the other guy. thats what sets the winner apart. The difference between the very best and all of the rest.

Something about how my husband laid it out for me struck a nerve. it resonated. it made a lot of sense. damn. that summer I had increasing professional obligations, more leadership responsibilities, an exam to prepare for,  a non-profit to grow....when i saw it that way, i realized there was no space left for self-doubt, outside noise, and non-supporters. I suddenly had more clarity around my future. The sadness, the hopelessness, the desperation for relief...it all disappeared. I started resting inside of the work.

So now whenever I fall into a "state" and have a string of days that weaken my resolve, destabilize my sense of self and I get distracted from my purpose...i remember what my husband asked me....”what’s the difference between 1st and 2nd place…” I remember I have to be good at all of it. 

With loving kindness,

ElyVas

One Day at a Time

The inspiration and creativity are lacking this week. The drama however is in full force. It wouldn't be a proper week in this drama-queen's life without this heavy dose of summer-drama. Do things just happen in bigger waves in the summer months because every one is on fire from this heat? or the Canadian wildfires are impairing our common senses? How do they expect me to work this week after everything I have just gone through. I need about 3 weeks just to process these moments. this will be a costly month in the "self-help" department - gotta get my shrink on the line, my therapist, my ex-boyfriend, my stylist, my skin care specialist... 

One Day At A Time. my husband keeps reminding me. So what happened, exactly? ... 

It all started with a well-known celebrity's kid having a mini temper tantrum, that only the very entitled, very privileged know how to have. Why this is even relevant to my life is because this kid showed up unannounced (read: without notice) and set up shop at his daddy's house...the house we were scheduled to stay at for the week we were in town. This was a business trip (leisure came second). 

The night before we were planning to come up - we were informed that this celebrity-spawn just got into town with his staff and had no plans of leaving. A call to his daddy-dearest proved fruitless because he used the classic line "i paid a lot of money for that house, figure it out!"

But one day at a time, right?

So in total panic and crisis-mode, we went through the rolodex. paging doctor 1-800-realtor 9-1-1. we need housing asap. and the housing must accommodate one married couple, one au pair, one mother's helper, one toddler who is the work of 37 toddlers, and all of the toddler's luggage. we each need our own bathroom. and the primary suite has to be away from the toddler's room. and it has to be new construction, south of the highway. an office facing east. There were more criteria that had to be met but you get the point. This was not a simple situation....and the clock was ticking. and my mind was racing. and then my throat started feeling sore. of course that is exactly what i needed during this chaos.

i cant even get into the details of how it happened but someone who sails with someone my husband knows graciously gave us their home for however many days we needed it. my husband solves all my problems and i love that. Will continue to update as this week unfolds and the drama implodes...

xoxo

elyvas

Behind the Hedges

In the land of private privilege, quiet luxury, well-resourced convenience, pedigreed names, old-money casual with a new-world accessibility- I found myself behind the hedges. Walking on Main street in a pair of distressed jeans and Chanel espadrilles, I caught a glimpse of my reflection as I zipped up my Celine nano, blinded by the white diamonds and pink sapphires shining on my left ring finger, courtesy of the man who made me a wife and gave me our son. Who was that woman looking back at me: so effortlessly chic with her hair up in a messy bun leading what looked to be a perfectly manicured life? Was that me? Yes it was. It was the present-day me. What a stark contrast to the last time my own reflection made me stop in my footsteps - i remember that day too vividly, but that is for another post, another story.

Ten years ago I was numbing the pain of a devastating heartbreak. I was unraveling into my addictions. Pills for breakfast, liquid lunches, lonely dinners - falling into the arms of strangers with desperation I don't care to recall. What a difference ten years can make. Today I am walking into 64 Main Street to pick up a custom-made outfit designed by Jonathan Simkhai for the annual fireworks celebration at 1030 Meadow Lane.

Eight years ago I was learning how to have my feelings without spiking them with toxic artificial sweeteners like Xanax and vodka. It was a new way of being for me. I couldn't remember the last time I felt my emotions, raw. I only remember running from them in search of a bandaid like food, exercise, pills, men, shopping, achievement, starvation, approval.....anything that would make the bleeding stop quickly....anything that would keep me from seeing the blood drip slowly...anything that would just make me stop feeling.  Newly sober and unemployed, back living with my parents, still reeling from my heartbreak - you could say I was going nowhere fast. 

Tonight I'm lounging outside by the pool. I look around the property, with the 20-feet tall well-clipped hedgerows of privet maintaining our family's privacy. My husband getting ready to jump into the pool to cool off after his workout. Our son is running around the perfectly hydrated yard, laughing each time the automatic sprinklers get him wet. He is joyful, he is blissful, he is God's grace, he is perfection. This is the life we were blessed to create. This is the life I prayed for.

Five years ago John asked me to marry him. He gave me the emotional security I longed for - the safety I was searching for. His love was stable, his love was lasting. Deep down I knew this, I felt this. But I struggled with the conflict between the person my family expected me to be and the person I actually was. Reconciling the simple truth with the contrived expectations ate me up. I was so much more than the "forced ideals" my parents set out for me. The centuries old archaic infrastructure of how I should feel, who I should love, where I should live, when I should speak - drowning me in shame - I couldn't be that formulaic. I tried my best, nearly losing my life in the effort to fit that mold. In my truth - I was freer, more loving, more compassionate, more open. As my husband says - don't be afraid to play big in the world. I didn't want to be afraid any more. 

Last month we celebrated our eight-year anniversary of the day we met. Something felt different that afternoon on the summer solstice... as the sun shined high and my heart felt less heavy. What was that feeling? that levity, that foundational stability, that deep connection...it was God doing for me what i couldn't do for myself. This moment feels equally profound - as we pack up our things with comfortable ease, no rush, no urgency. this feels natural. this life of playing big, being bold, full of gratitude while maintaining the quietness of humility...we have arrived, we are home.

from behind the hedges - xoxo,

ElyVas