On feeling jealous

A few weeks ago I noticed that every time I’d see an article announcing someone’s good fortune or sparkly new thing, I wanted to throw up with jealousy. And it wasn’t only limited to celebratory announcements. Reading a kick-ass blog post made me want to chuck my computer at the wall.

A couple gazing lovingly at each other at the coffee counter could knock the wind out of me, too. In fact, they could gaze lovingly at the chocolate rugelach instead and still rock my little boat.

And a pang of jealousy like that almost always lets its faithful sidekick tag along. Hello there, Shame. After all: Can’t I just be happy for people? How petty and shallow am I?

Add pathetic to the mix and stir. Enter: Self-loathing. Bleargh.

So I usually dive head-first into avoidance-mode as soon as I feel that mean little hook. Easier to look away or smack the magazine closed at the first mention of someone’s glowey life.

Unfortunately at that point it’s too late. I’m all triggered and edgy. Then I promptly forget what made me so irritable, and have to comb back through my day to place the source of this sticky angst.

When I’m lucky, the jealousy carries a message. This usually happens when I’m feeling dead opposite of lucky – When I’m lost or totally clueless about what I want. But that’s exactly when I’m most motivated to look for clues in mysterious, and even angsty, sources. Cue the jealousy investigation.

If I can convince myself that there’s something useful here, and step into the curiosity zone, things generally open up. I can peer at the edge of something that made me want to gouge my eyes out before. And maybe even admit: There’s something in there that I want.

Being someone who wants something she doesn’t have is way easier than being someone who doesn’t know what she wants. Or who hates herself for hating someone else for having it.

Still, this is kind of a weird moment, because wanting something isn’t inherently painful.

So there must be some belief that lodges itself in between me and the object of my affection

Something like: You want THAT?! OMG, I can’t believe you want that. That would make you materialistic/indulgent/hopeless. You’ll never get it anyway. Let’s throw down the kibosh pronto.

If I shouldn’t want it, or can’t have it rightthissecond, surely it would be easier to just check out.

And that is always the wrong move. I never feel better until I fess up: Oh. I want this thing. And it might be only tangentially related to the thing that wracked me with waves of nausea.

But it doesn’t matter. Message delivered.

Somewhere deep inside of wanting something I don’t have, there is this little, teeny seed of hope.

And that seed clears space for the jealousy to transform into something lighter. Something like aspiration. Maybe eventually even action.

And it usually only takes one small gesture to step back into the stream. No dazzling daring required. You don’t have to quit your job or buy the farm or move to Paris for pastry school. (Yes, I am talking to myself here. Feel free to substitute your own pie-in-the-sky someday scenario.)

All of the sudden, my blog reader no longer makes me nauseous. Couples are allowed to kiss in front of me now, and that girl’s size 26 jeans don’t make me want to stab myself in the (ample) thigh.

Other times the best I can do is to see someone else’s bright, shiny thing and borrow a line I learned from my improv class.

Yes, AND.

Yes, that. AND this. Where this is a sliver of possibility in my own life.

Yes, that. AND, this weekend I’m moving into my own tiny, funky, charming place at the beach. Yay.

Yes, that. AND…

Do you have a yes, and? Or another technique for dealing with envy-monsters?