On Jealousy

I seem to set up internal rivalries with folks who never even know about it, but that my sole energy tends to keep ferociously alive. I refer back to these rivalries often, like a penny in my pocket I keep coming back to rub.

There is a blogger who I found years ago. We share the same birthday, some similar interests and type of genitalia; thus, I felt a certain kinship and, perhaps, a kind of benchmark. I like her. That is, I like her when I’m not hating her.

I’ve just recently begun to accept that I am a resentful (i.e. jealous) person. While I am innately curious about the goings on of her life, I also read with a certain air of, “I want that. Why can’t I have that?”

Cute dog. Boyfriend. Cross-country move. Swanky wedding. Weight loss. Nifty hobby. Guest post invitations. Baby. Good job. Each item she shared, my reaction was, “I want that, too.”

Now, it should be noted that in the years since, I’ve gotten most of that stuff in my own way and have plans for the rest, and I am grateful. But this secret rivalry probably came to a head when I was listening to an audio book on a drive a few weeks back and, whoomp, her voice came on to contribute an anecdote. I want to contribute an anecdote to an audio book! Why hasn’t anyone picked me to do that?

Well, I’ll tell you why: I haven’t tossed my hat in any rings that would lead to invites to contribute anecdotes to audio books. It’s as simple as that.

It’s not the universe conspiring against me, or fate, or karma. It’s because I haven’t gotten up off my duff to do anything that puts me in a place to be considered for contributing witty and insightful anecdotes. So, that’s on me.

Jealousy, it seems to me, is frustration with myself turned outward. If I spent half the time wishing for what she and others have as I do on cultivating it for myself, I, too, might have found myself on an audio book by now.