Like so many others, I was shocked to read the story of the former Miss USA, Cheslie Kryst, killing herself by jumping off the 29th floor of a New York City building. Cheslie Kryst was an absolutely stunning young woman, who had both an MBA and a law degree from a very prestigious university. She worked as a correspondent for Extra Television (for which she had been nominated for Emmy awards) and she had her own fashion business. In March of 2021, she wrote as essay for Allure magazine about turning 30. Here are some excerpts from that essay:
“Each time I say, “I’m turning 30,” I cringe a little. Sometimes I can successfully mask this uncomfortable response with excitement; other times, my enthusiasm feels hollow, like bad acting. Society has never been kind to those growing old, especially women. (Occasional exceptions are made for some of the rich and a few of the famous.) When I was crowned Miss USA 2019 at 28 years old, I was the oldest woman in history to win the title, a designation even the sparkling $200,000 pearl-and-diamond Mikimoto crown could barely brighten for some diehard pageant fans who immediately began to petition for the age limit to be lowered.“
A grinning, crinkly-eyed glance at my achievements thus far makes me giddy about laying the groundwork for more, but turning 30 feels like a cold reminder that I’m running out of time to matter in society’s eyes — and it’s infuriating . . . .
After a year like 2020, you would think we’d learned that growing old is a treasure and maturity is a gift not everyone gets to enjoy. Far too many of us allow ourselves to be measured by a standard that some sternly refuse to challenge and others simply acquiesce to because fitting in and going with the flow is easier than rowing against the current. I fought this fight before and it’s the battle I’m currently fighting with 30.
When I graduated from college and opted to continue my studies at Wake Forest University, I decided I’d earn a law degree and an MBA at the same time. (Why stop at two degrees when you can have three?) I joined a trial team at school and won a national championship. I competed in moot court; won essay competitions; and earned local, regional, and national executive board positions. I nearly worked myself to death, literally, until an eight-day stint in a local hospital sparked the development of a new perspective. . . .
I discovered that the world’s most important question, especially when asked repeatedly and answered frankly, is: why? Why earn more achievements just to collect another win? Why pursue another plaque or medal or line item on my résumé if it’s for vanity’s sake, rather than out of passion? Why work so hard to capture the dreams I’ve been taught by society to want when I continue to find only emptiness?
Too often, I noticed that the only people impressed by an accomplishment were those who wanted it for themselves. Meanwhile, I was rewarded with a lonely craving for the next award. Some would see this hunger and label it “competitiveness”; others might call it the unquenchable thirst of insecurity.“
After reading this, I ran into the kitchen and I hugged my daughter and I reminded her that she is lovable just as she is. She is she. And that is wonderful, and it is enough. It will always be enough. Just fully “being” in every single moment, is all that is required to live, and to experience this awesome adventure which we call life and living. That existential hole that exists in all of us, cannot be filled with beauty, accomplishments, money, stuff, addictions, trips, awards, compliments, degrees, relationships. It can never be filled with externals, as desperately as we try sometimes. Our voids are filled, when we realize that everything that we need is already contained inside each and everyone of us. The one universal thing that every single one of us human beings shares, is Awareness. We all share the ability to notice what we are sensing, to notice what our fleeting thoughts are saying to us, and to be mindful as to where our emotions land in our bodies. We all even have the ability to notice the universal “hollow of the void.” If we can accept that everyone has the same exact peaceful, untouchable, eternal Awareness, inside of each and every one of us, and that Awareness unjudgmentally notices and stays in awe of everything in our unified experience, then we really aren’t alone, nor separate, are we? The Awareness is what is truly experiencing a (and every) lifetime in a certain body, in a certain set of circumstances, during a certain time period. And the Awareness is experiencing everything, at all times, forevermore. (Remember Awareness is the ocean, we are the waves.) Our silly little made-up egos and personalities (the little ripples and waves), are just along for the ride of the bigger Ocean’s overall experience. The hole isn’t empty. It never has been. It has always been quite full and it flows eternally. We just need to remember that we are not separate from Life/Awareness/Ocean/God. We are all One with it. And if we can keep that perspective, and remember to just live in the moment, and if we don’t take our own “little selves” too seriously, we can experience our lives the way our lives were meant to be experienced, moment by moment, in peaceful awe and pleasure and in pride of our One Ever-Flowing Beautiful Creation.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
It is always a shock to see people commit suicide who seem (from the outside) to have so much to live for. I loved this that you wrote: “Our voids are filled, when we realize that everything that we need is already contained inside each and everyone of us.” And this: “…if we don’t take our own “little selves” too seriously, we can experience our lives the way our lives were meant to be experienced, moment by moment, in peaceful awe and pleasure and in pride of our One Ever-Flowing Beautiful Creation.” Thank you, as always, for your insight.
Thank you, Gail!! I appreciate you always taking the time to write to me. <3
<3 As I always appreciate your morning thoughts.
That essay is so sad.
I’ve never felt the pressure of age because I don’t ascribe the same restrictions to it that Cheslie did. I’ve known from a very early age that the women in my family don’t come into themselves until the second half of life, so I’ve always looked forward to attaining the experience and wisdom that come with a pile of years.
The most confusing thing about Cheslie’s situation is that she was mourning her perception of not having enough time, and yet, she chose to bring an end to her time in this life seemingly when there was still a lot of time on the clock. Perhaps it was her time to go; perhaps she always knew that her life would be short. Not everyone is meant to live for many decades. It feels like a waste to us. To have taken a life filled with extraordinary achievements and bring it to an end before she could put into practice all the knowledge and skills she had worked so hard to achieve. It feels like lost potential. For those who loved and cherished her, it must be perplexing and frustrating to have lost her so early. I selfishly pray that I will never be in a position to feel those emotions. And my heart goes out to those left behind that must deal with that reality.
Kelly, you mentioned it before and I love you knowingly you state it: “I’ve known from an early age that the women in my family don’t come into themselves until the second half of life.” I wonder is this is true for most women or most people in general? I have never felt more comfortable in my own skin than now and my assumption it’s only going to get better from here. It is sad for someone to feel that they have “peaked” in youth and not see all of the fruitfulness that life has to offer at every age.