Envy Is Pissing Me Off

I just had a very brief and unpleasant conversation with my husband. While my business seems to have hit a plateau, Mr. W. is experiencing great success with his. Am I happy for him? Of course. Proud? Hell yeah. Seething with barely contained hostility? Absolutely.

Envy is the most opportunistic member of the emotional community. While Optimism and Confidence gossip over cappuccinos, and Introspection sits in the corner with her arms crossed, Envy stares inside longingly from the street, waiting patiently to be invited in. (Envy is also a drama queen so she’s standing in the rain, and a car just sped by, hurling a wall of water at her back.)

Envy is the most unnecessary of all emotions. At least Fear serves a purpose: Hey—Do you see that Gila monster over there? Don’t touch it. Envy serves only to make a person feel less than someone else: Hey—Do you see the $10,000 jacket that woman over there is wearing? Don’t touch it.

I hate Envious Ilene, but unfortunately she and I are conjoined twins. As much as I want to tear her off like an ugly sweater, we share some important organs I’d like to hang on to. In an attempt at compromise, I have come up with a few coping strategies to help me live in peace with this reality:

1. Try not to compare oneself to others. This is much easier said than done; especially when you’re suffering from PMS and have a giant pimple on the tip of your nose.
2. Remember that nobody’s life is perfect. Things seem to balance out over time. For example, I am envious that Mr. W. has a great new client, but I am not envious of his hairline.
3. Acknowledge how much you have. This one’s pretty easy, as well as highly scalable: I have shoes. I have socks. I have feet.*
   *Note that using the inverse of item #3 has the potential of doing more harm than good: She has Manolo Blahniks. She has weekly pedicures. She is a whore.

Although not always entirely successful, some coping mechanisms can help. Case in point: After writing this post, I’m less obsessed with my husband’s recent success. Instead, I’ve decided to focus on my new hobby—making little voodoo dolls from the hairballs Mr. W. leaves in the shower drain.

Take that, Mr. Successful.