I Misplaced My Tools
By Amy Ayoub
It was March 17, 2020, and all Nevada casinos were closing at 11:59 pm. The Governor declared it at a press conference. It was in the papers. It was on the news. It was all over social media. I still didn’t believe it, though. The casinos that I’ve found comfort and happiness in since I was 5-years-old were closing? The casinos where I got to eat with my Dad on his breaks as Casino Manager? The casinos where I worked when I escaped the world of sex trafficking and totally reinvented myself? The casinos where I’ve shared meals and entertainment with my parents, my siblings, my nieces, my grandnieces and nephew, and my friends? Those casinos were closing, even though they didn’t close during terrorist attacks on our nation, recessions, mass murders? It was too much to take in, too much to believe.
Photos/Amy Ayoub.
And then it happened. It was true. I drove down the iconic and desolate Las Vegas Strip and sobbed. I took it personally. So many of us did because it was personal. It affected each of us whether we were currently employed in a casino or not. The heartbeat of our city stopped beating.
As I scrolled through social media, I saw people decluttering their homes, baking bread, and starting and finishing new projects. They were reimagining their businesses, and there was a lot of pivoting happening. Late night talk-show hosts were pivoting to performing their monologues from home, fundraisers were pivoting their fundraising strategy to expressing gratitude for past gifts instead of asking for new ones, and seemingly everyone was pivoting to virtual trainings and meetings. Pivoting—a word I tired of quickly since my days were filled with nonaction. I wasn’t even walking, let alone pivoting.
My thoughts jumped from one to another. “I should be doing something;” “I can’t even think clearly.” “Maybe I need this rest and I should just enjoy it.” “I need to use the spiritual tools I have to handle this in a way that will make me proud.” “Why can’t I at least organize my photos and that one box I’ve wanted to clear out?” “Be gentle with yourself.” “Look at all the people who are losing their jobs and facing homelessness—be grateful.” “I’m scared.”
My sister, nieces, and their families gave me something to look forward to when they invited me to join the weekly trivia game they had started at the beginning of the pandemic. It’s indescribable how much I looked forward to those times with people who loved me and in a space where all our fears and challenges were put on hold while we laughed and sent love to each other.
Although my family, other than my brother who lives across town with his wife, lives in New Jersey and Paris, I’m blessed to have family immediately next door to me. I adopted them as soon as they moved in nine years ago, and they had no choice but to give in to my desire to make them family. They immediately became like a niece and nephew to me, and when they had their boys, MJ and Tommy, I crowned myself their fake grandma. As depressing as the first months of the pandemic were, they would have been unbearable if my neighbor-family hadn’t taken me in as one of them during that time. We would get through it together. If those little boys hadn’t come over and hugged me and made me smile every day, I’m sure I would have had to struggle to even get out of bed many days. But those ifs didn’t happen, I had their love and support, and they had mine. It wasn’t easy, but it was easier.
Just as I thought I could, and needed to, start marketing a new public speaking class after months of not generating any income, we were punched in the gut with the news and the images of George Floyd being murdered. There were no thoughts of business, of money, of a future. The only thoughts were of what in the hell are we as a nation, how did we end up here again, and what the hell are we going to do about it? The universal scream of pain was deafening and the tsunami of PSTD—from those with a history of violent trauma and certainly to those who were confronted with it first hand—was dangerously threatening friendships, communities, and our nation. It manifested in shaming, in hatred, and in stunning violence. I cried more days than I didn’t…for me, for my friends, and for thousands of strangers. It moved me to action. I gave quietly where I could, I read and attended panels about the anti-racism movement, and I tolerated even less than usual from anyone I heard spewing racist comments or “jokes.” It seemed there would never be an enough to what I could do.
I knew I had to get out of my gray place. From years of reading, workshops, therapy, and overcoming difficult situations, I knew I had the experience and the tools to help me move forward. So, with tiny steps at a time, I started tip-toeing out of the darkness and back into the light. I had gone from a year of unprecedented joy into a year that challenged me constantly to keep my joy during even grueling times.
Staycation photos
Since the quickest and easiest way to get out of any hole I’ve fallen into is to concentrate on doing something for someone else, I aimed my attention toward my neighbors and decided to arrange a staycation for us with a nice pool. I was entirely convinced I was doing it for them. We found a great place not far from home that was kid friendly, was the perfect size, and had everything we needed to enjoy a week of swimming, playing, and relaxing. As soon as we walked in, I exhaled. I hadn’t realized that, as much as I love my house, I desperately needed a change of scenery. I’d received good news two days before we arrived in our temporary house. The documentary Robin Greenspun had produced and directed about my life, The Zen Speaker: Breaking the Silence, had come out on Amazon! That was exciting and was something new to talk about and share. I found it surprisingly easy to turn off my phone for most of the day and it was off all night, which was definitely a new habit since I’m addicted to it. I slept well for the first time in months. I woke up early and fed and played with the boys. I rested. I read. I relaxed in the pool. I smiled a lot. Well, what do you know? Being present is all it took to shift my attitude. I moved from wallowing in the trauma of my past and worrying about potential trauma in my future to finding joy in the moment—and then the next moment and then the next. I could physically feel the shift, feel an alignment.
And when we’re aligned, what happens? Miracles. And miracles indeed started in our Airbnb when, after finally watching my documentary, my 96-year-old mother called and said the words I’ve been waiting decades (as many therapists, spiritual guides, and gurus can attest) to hear: “I’m sorry,” and “I’m so proud of you.” The healing those sincerely-spoken words inspired is impossible for me to articulate. I’m continuously aware of the gifts of it, though. Behaviors and comments from others that would normally trigger me have lost that power. I started eating a whole food, plant-based diet the week after we returned home and am loving it, along with the resulting clarity of mind, improved energy, and weight loss. It feels like self care to prepare my own food and eat healthy; there’s not a moment I feel deprived. I credit that to hearing the words I had hung my hope on for so long, using them as an excuse to remain unworthy of being the highest version of myself. And now I was free, there was no more, if onlys…
Remember when I said miracles happen when we’re in alignment? My life seems like a series of small miracles now. My health is improving, my business has picked up, new opportunities are coming my way that I couldn’t have imagined, my revenue has increased, and I’m finding pleasure in activities I used to mock. Unique ways to show my gratitude are appearing, the lessons I’ve learned and known on an intellectual level are now being authentically incorporated into my life, and I’m finding more loving ways to reach out to support others.
As wonderful as that all is, it doesn’t mean I don’t still feel the pain our world is struggling with—I absolutely do. What has changed is how I’m choosing to be and how I’m choosing to show up. I’m responding less often with anger based on fear and past traumas, and instead I’m surrounding myself with those who are like minded and committed to making a positive individual, and ultimately a universal, difference in our world.
I’m now able to take on serious issues and deal with the inevitable ups and downs of life while being rooted in joy and peace.
That transformation is the miracle that has resulted from the many challenges, lessons, and emotions I’ve experienced over the past eight months since the onset of the pandemic and all that followed. This will be tested during the upcoming election. By the time you read this, will I be able to continue to state, “I now take on serious issues and deal with the inevitable ups and downs of life while being rooted in joy and peace?” I’ll let you know!
Photo/Courtesy of Amy Ayoub.
Amy Ayoub is a certified public speaking coach who has helped celebrities like Marie Osmond, Olympic champions like Conner Fields, and some of the top executives, elected officials, and nonprofit leaders in Nevada. A powerful speaker herself, Amy combines her knowledge of effective speaking techniques with the power of storytelling and authenticity. She is the first woman in Nevada history to be appointed to the Nevada Athletic Commission, and she is also the subject of an award-winning documentary, The Zen Speaker: Breaking the Silence.
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