The Beast Rears Its Ugly Head
The year was 1994. I was eleven years old, lying in my bed, unable to sleep because I was so excited at the prospect of starting 6th grade the following day. There were events and activities only available in the final year of elementary school that I had (not so) patiently waited for with great anticipation. The biggest one of which was the ability nay, the privilege of running for student council. The chosen few got to lead assemblies, miss class for meetings, and (the crowning glory of them all) read the morning announcements over the PA to the entire school. My heart thudded at the prospect, despite elections being weeks away.
As the date came near, I realized I hadn’t decided which position to run for: president, vice-president, or secretary. President was out of the question. Even at 11, I knew I didn’t have the social standing for such a position. I wasn’t athletically inclined, nor was I the front runner in the JTT look-a-like contest. I was a skinny, pasty, freckle-faced kid who preferred the swings and slides on the playground to the game of touch football on the field (though there was a couple of months when everyone banded together to revive 4-square).
So. if president was too ambitious, vice-president hardly felt any better. As the days went on, the chatter in the hallways and cafeteria made it clear who was aiming for which positions and I found myself…overshadowed. Still, if I was going to follow this dream that had kept me awake since the first day of school, I had to push myself. With only one option left to me, I honed in on the secretary position.
At 11 years old, my self-confidence was still riding the waves of my childhood. When I made my campaign posters, I proudly declared that they were funny and (dare I say it?) better than my competition. I would see people looking at them and laughing, giving me hope that the election wasn’t as far from my reach as I thought. I didn’t have the typical traits the popular kids did, but I thought I could use my talents with humor to win them over.
Finally, we reach Friday. Election day. The morning begins with an assembly for the entire school in which each candidate must prepare a skit (performance?) followed by a short speech. I was brimming with anxiety but this was the moment I was born for. Prepping an original skit starring me? Perfection. I’m sure I paid little attention in class and neglected all homework that week in order to brainstorm. Let me tell you, I came prepared. I had pre-taped musical cues, an array of friends playing different parts, there were costumes, quick changes, and had they allowed it I would have incorporated fireworks at some point. Each line got its intended reaction: gasps, cheers, and (most importantly) laughs. I gave my speech and took a bow to tumultuous (as much as an elementary school can muster) applause.
Cloud nine.
I was not an arrogant kid. But as I watched the rest of the performances, I almost pitied my competition that had to go on after me. They had polite applause and a couple of chuckles, but nothing that rivaled my own performance.
I was ecstatic. For the first time in my life, I had publicly outperformed my “superiors” and I thought I had won before the ballots had even been filled out. True to elementary school sensitivities, the final results would be made available on the school hotline where you would dial in to hear the pre-recorded message at 5 o’clock that evening.
The dramatic part of my brain wants to say I gathered with all my friends as we played it over speakerphone but, in reality, I probably sat in my dad’s desk chair in his office by myself. I was nervous, but still riding high on the day’s performance. But, as the results came in, I didn’t hear my name. For some odd (desperate) reason, I thought I must have misheard and they were announcing the names of the people who didn’t win. So, I redialed.
And redialed…
And redialed…
I’m not sure how many times I called that number but, each time it felt surreal. I kept remembering how little sense it made. I saw the joyful faces of the audience laughing and cheering at my skit and the blank faces they wore during my competitor’s performance.
I lost.
And, for the first time, I remember feeling real jealousy. Not the kind I had experienced where someone won a raffle prize or got picked first in a game of kickball. This was the first time I wanted to be someone else because I felt I wasn’t good enough.
Name the Beast
That could have been a supremely depressing end to a short story. Luckily, I am 32 years down the road from the moment and have learned a thing or two.
When this happened, I couldn’t have told you what exactly I was going through. My vocabulary extended about as far as sad or disappointed. But, looking back, this was the last time (for a long time) that I really remember liking myself. And while I still hung onto my humor, it became more of a social currency rather than a primary source of joy.
So, what is jealousy? I’m going to get really classy and quote Shakespeare.
“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on“
Brilliant. Simple. Profound. No wonder the guy has stuck around so long.
Jealousy is personal and comes in different forms and I’ve found that, like all emotions, they are founded in a basis of truth (though much smaller than maybe we want to admit sometimes). For me, jealousy is the simple emotion of someone having something that I want. But, as I self-reflect, I really have to name the beast to understand how to defeat it. Or, at least shove it in a cupboard where I’m in control of it. Because, at its core, jealousy is just a deviation of the more noble ambition.
Wanting to be good at the piano is great. Wanting to be good at the piano because your neighbor is good at the piano, not so great.
Is it helpful?
If you have not heard the term neuroplasticity, please look it up because it’s amazing and deserves more expertise than I have to delve into it. But, essentially, it’s the brain’s ability (at any age) to rewire itself. When we have negative thoughts/patterns, with time and effort, we can literally change our brains to deal with things differently.
I had a therapist that advised me to verbally say, “Is it helpful?” anytime a negative or anxious thought came into my head. It sounds silly but after so many times of saying it, my brain would do it on its own and pretty soon, my subconscious was doing the work of sorting thoughts that used to consume me.
I pose the same question here when we look at jealousy. When a thought comes (and it will) is it helpful?
Getting Specific
Here’s what jealousy looks like for me.
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Someone has a thing that I want.
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Someone has a gift that I want.
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Someone has the attention I want.
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Someone has achieved something I want.
Things
Things are probably the base-level form of jealousy since that’s where we start in childhood. No matter what we have, there’s always someone who has more and we want it! With time and maturity, these things are easier to talk our way through. “_______ has a brand new car. I wish I had a new car. But, I can’t afford a new car.”
Is it helpful?
I would also argue that in the category of things are physical qualities. As a very pasty individual, I would have given anything to be tan when I was a teenager. I cringe/laugh at my feeble attempts to use bronzing creams. Because nothing screams authenticity than a pasty boy showing up at school the next day looking like a splotchy Ken doll. “What do mean I look different? I was just outside a lot yesterday. My hands? No, I’ve just been eating a lot of Cheetos lately.”
Sigh. Not helpful.
Gifts
Gifts/talents feel more of a genuine thing to be jealous of. At least they’re not as superficial? But, as someone with chronic ADHD, I can get very interested in a talent very quickly and imagine multiple scenarios in which I would be great at macrame…street luge…cat grooming…indoor skydiving… And, to be fair to myself, given the time and limitless resources, I probably could! So, the reality of the question then becomes, what gift am I willing to put in the time, effort, and frustration, into mastering? What’s worth it? This helps me narrow that list.
Gifts that bring me joy just by doing them? Amazing. Gifts that I want to give me money or acclaim…yikes.
Attention
Is it wrong to want attention? Absolutely not. At its core, it’s a need to feel validated. Hopefully we have people in our close inner circles that give us this in acceptable (and healthy) doses. The problem is when we equate attention with worth. “If less than _____ people like or comment on my Instagram, I’m worthless.” Dramatic? Yes. But, in many ways we can fall fall prey to this in some way or another.
Every writer has to deal with this. I don’t care if you are the NYT Bestselling author 10 years in a row. No one will talk about you, quote you, research you, adapt your works at the same level as Shakespeare.
Period.
So, whether you have 10 readers or 10,000,000 readers, you have to decide what the real reason is you’re writing. Is that kind of attention helpful? Aside from paying the bills, I’d argue no.
Achievements
This is a hard one. But! With practice, it can be one of the easiest to let go of. While other forms of jealousy come with some amount of control, achievement is much more finicky. Especially if you are in a creative/artistic field. Scoring 50 points in a basketball game is measurable, impressive, and noticed. Writing a well-crafted novel is hard to measure, subjective, and difficult to get noticed.
Even as someone who struggles with self-confidence, I will be the first to admit that I have read (very popular) things I know I write better. It’s infuriating, maddening, and soul-crushing, but, in the end…is it helpful? Internet forums are filled people tearing down other people’s work. And (just like I repeatedly told my students) tearing other people down doesn’t make you any better.
But what about the good things? What about the times when we see things that we feel like we could never do? Because that jealousy can be a real gut punch on the wrong day. What’s the point in even trying if I can’t write something as good as ______? I would be surprised (and ironically jealous) of any writer who says they’ve never experienced this. But, in those moments, we have the opportunity to decide to live in a world of constant inspiration or comparison. Because, I have lived in the world of comparison and I’ll be the first to admit…
It is not helpful.
Capitalism would have us believe there is only room for a few at the top and in order to get there, you must destroy anything that resembles competition. The truth and beauty of art, is that there is enough room as people who want it. If a single author is capable of creating a deluge of intricately crafted worlds and a single reader has the desire to travel to be inspired there, the potential landscape for artistic endeavors is, quite literally, limitless.
Successful authors are doing the impossible. They are keeping literature on our shelves in a day when digital AI slop is invading at an alarming rate. Their success doesn’t diminish my own. What I am writing is (and should be) different to their writing. So, instead of getting jealous, I let my applause be louder than the self-doubt from which it stems.
Where do you want to live?
At the end of the day, jealousy is an emotion we either choose to control or let it control us. Like physical pain, it can indicate places where we are weak and places we can improve. But, I choose to keep it in a mailbox outside where I live, giving me messages I mostly throw in the junk pile so I can focus on the things that really are helpful.
Quotes Worth Remembering
I often think of this quote when I write scenes or characters that are a little bit too “on the nose”.