Jealousy, Envy and Expectations. Oh. My.

A few nights ago, fueled by the company of some cool women and cold beer, I got to participate in an interesting discussion. As can happen, when a group of like-minded moms get to sit around and discuss their feelings without 42,000 interruptions, we went pretty deep.

We talked about how jealousy, envy and expectations seem overwhelmingly to be the thieves that steal our joy. Sometimes jealousy and envy are used interchangeably, but they are opposite sides of the same destructive coin. I honestly have spent a lot of time studying the differences to keep them straight in my head.

Jealousy is the uncomfortable feeling that someone wants what we “have.” The knot in your stomach when a woman gets too friendly with your man. The heat that rushes to your cheeks when a new employee seems to be hustling for your job. Your husband’s snide remarks when a man likes too many of your pictures. All generated from the same place: You can’t have what’s mine. OH. Hell. No.

Envy, on the other hand, is our desire to have what someone else has. It’s the sinking in your stomach when dropping your baby off at daycare and you see another mom walking her baby in a stroller. The tightening of your jaw when you have to say no to a vacation all your friends will enjoy but you can’t afford it. It’s the sideward glance at the skinny woman eating a ginormous piece of cheesecake. Envy comes from: Why can’t I have that? Hmph.

And expectations. I used to be the QUEEN of expectations. If I had a nickel for every time I was let down because someone didn’t live up to what I wanted from them, I’d take a fabulous vacation. And beyond that, I’d love to have a dollar for each time Brad didn’t make the “grand gesture” I had conjured up in my head. Brad never knew what the grand gesture was nor has he ever been a grand gesture kind of guy so it wasn’t fair, realistic, good for our relationship or my mental health for that matter to continuously–usually subconsciously–expect him to do something that was only in my mind.

Although I did learn that he wants very much to make me happy, and when I tell him what I want, most of the time he does it. Also, now that he knows how much I love grand gestures, he occasionally makes them. Huh. Expectations met.

When you take all that into consideration, it’s pretty clear how these things can quickly and efficiently snuff out your joy. So what do you do?

…

You didn’t think I knew … did you? Have you ever read this blog? I don’t know anything. I just overthink and ruminate and share my musings in the hopes that one of you will message me and say, “Hey, here is what you need to do.” Sometimes, that happens too because some of you are SUPER smart, and I love you and appreciate your sharing of knowledge. And I adore every single one of you who simply says, “Me too, sister.”

In the meantime, here’s my game plan. I do not feel much jealousy anymore as I am secure in my relationships–and myself. I was a hellcat for sure, but at this point in my life, I like and accept myself, and shockingly, when you are happy and satisfied with yourself, you don’t feel crazy possessive about your man or relationships or anything else. Because you no longer feel secretly unworthy or undeserving of what you have*, you no longer worry that someone else is going to swipe it from you.

This carries over to the envy side of the coin as well. Being okay with myself keeps me from wanting what others have. There have been times in my life when I felt things turned out better for other people, whereas a metaphorical dark cloud seemed planted over me. I realize now that despite some misfortune, our life continues to turn out pretty fantastically. And like the meme says: Happiness isn’t having what you want; it’s wanting what you have. I wouldn’t want anything other than what we have.

I’m still working on the expectations part. I’m way better with most of my people, but every once in awhile, I let myself expect something from someone outside my circle, often with hurtful results. But I learn or relearn a painful lesson. That’s a really cool thing about life: We keep getting chances to make different choices, learn new lessons and get it right–or at least right for us. How about you? How do you manage expectations? Do you harbor any secret jealousy or envy? Are you the object of someone else’s–you know that’s about them, not you; right?

I hope that wherever you are and whatever you feel today, you can stop for a moment and remind yourself that you are loved, accepted, worthy and deserving just exactly as you are.

xoxo

*My sister in law posted this article and Ted Talk earlier re: feeling like an imposter. It’s freaking awesome if you have a moment. Technically the Ted Talk is 15 minutes, but it’s worth every minute.

Your voice DOES sound like that, but it’s okay.

Yesterday, I had a near-death experience. It made me think about a lot of stuff. This is pretty erratic. You’ve been warned.

When I was a kid, my parents were hard on us. They expected certain things that most parents do: respect, good grades, honesty, responsibility. There was another unspoken expectation that no one outwardly acknowledged, but we all knew existed: Perfection. I’m not beating up my parents. They did the best they could with the tools they had to raise us into productive members of society, and I don’t hold them accountable–anymore–for my shortcomings. I beat myself up instead.

As a young mom, I was super hard on Chloe. I didn’t get on her about her weight or hair color, as my mom had done with me, but I pushed her to excel at everything she did. When she was about 15, and I witnessed the crazy high standard of excellence she imposed on herself, I realized that I had instilled in her not only a drive to succeed, but also a drive to be perfect. I really beat myself up about that. I still do sometimes.

Beating myself is something I have excelled at for decades. When I was very little, I was frightened by my dad’s yelling, but I quickly learned that I could be just as mean and scary by yelling and saying mean things. I also learned that when you say mean things to yourself, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much when other people say those things. Since I’d told my 100 pound 13-year-old self how fat I was, my mother’s admonishments that I “didn’t have the eating habits of a thin person,” went in one ear and out the other.

Still, I am a world-class champion when it comes to being hard on myself. It makes me laugh sometimes when people say or write derogatory things about me. Sticks and stones, pal; I’ve said way worse to myself.

My quest for self-awareness threatens to be pathological at times. My husband says, “Baby, you’re too hard on yourself.” My girlfriends say, “You’re a good person.” My kids say, “You’re the best mom.” My mental health professional friend says, “Try not to overthink your parenting.” I read and pray and try but still continue the complicated cha-cha of self-acceptance and self-improvement.

Today, however, I had a revelation taking P to school. Revelations often happen in the car, and I hear Anne Lamott advising, “Writers always have a pen and paper handy to write these things down.” And I do, Annie, I do, but I’m driving!! So, I open the notes app, press the little microphone and blurt out my revelation as fast as I can before it gets lost in the great abyss of nonsense I fret about.

Then I come home, make a wonderful cup of coffee and sit down to write an encouraging piece based on this revelation. But I open my notes app and it says: “All of thenthings we thought made us unlocks let.” What the fuck does that mean? Read it again…slower this time… “All of thenthings we thought made us unlocks let.”

You know when you hear your voice on a recording and think I don’t sound like that? Well, I do sound like that (my recorded voice is high-pitched and childlike, not at all sexy and ScarJo as I envision it) and evidently, I don’t speak in complete thoughts but weird fragments of ambiguity instead. That. Just. Figures.

Now, if you’re still here, I promise I’m going to get to the point. Or at least a point. Sometimes, Brad asks me, “What made you think of that?” And I give him a long complicated story such as the dog was dreaming of running and the way her toenails clicked on the floor reminded me of tap dancing which made me think of Chloe in her only dance recital and how she stood in one position tapping her heel in a little purple costume and the sequins scattered all over my car which reminded me that I used to pick up sequins off the floor at Joann Fabrics when I went there with my mom and she took me to the dairy queen after but wouldn’t let me get a peanut buster parfait like I wanted and made me get a small chocolate cone. I hate chocolate cones. It’s so exhausting to be in my head for even one minute, you guys.

Anywayyyyyyy, my revelation was this: Sometimes the people in our lives who are “supposed to” love us fall short. Our parents, siblings, you know…the blood people. When this happens, God, or the Universe, whatever you believe–personally, I think we quibble more on semantics than actual beliefs–provides other people. These people love us not because they are “supposed to” but because they choose to. They look beyond our brokenness and imperfections, our past mistakes and current shortcomings and actually see us. These are the friends who encourage us, the partners who forgive us, the kids who adore us. They are the ones who look at all the things that we thought made us unlovable (that is what the illogical fragment meant, btw) and see instead what made us so special and unique.

This past week, I’ve been on self-help reading overload. I’ve mined my childhood for memories of my mom and dad and found both delightful and disturbing ones. I’ve written personal mission statements and examined what annoys me about other people and how those traits manifest in me. I told Brad this morning that I was really tired, and I’m beginning to realize why. So today, I’m going to smile, relax and be kind to people. Starting with myself. And you too.

Why Do You Let that S%#T Bother You?

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them; the first time,” Maya Angelou

A friend of mine recently posted that quote, and it reminded me how important that sentiment is in my life. I mean how important trying to remember that sentiment should be in my life. See, I have this bad habit. This really bad habit. Sometimes instead of loving people for who they are, I love an idealized version of who I think they could become. I love their higher self, and I pour my hope and faith into believing they will achieve that.

Here’s the issue with that: Sometimes people don’t want to achieve my idealized version of themselves. Sometimes individuals don’t even share my vision that they can be better people. Sometimes…people are perfectly happy being oblivious and unaware of the dreams and potential I am believing for them. Coming to this realization (that people don’t care to reach the awareness and enlightenment I want for them) is always more painful for me than for them.

My daughter does this too, and several of my closest (and like-minded) friends do as well. It makes me feel better to know that I’m not the only only one. It makes me feel better to say, “These smart, beautiful, amazing women do the same stupid stuff I do.”

My husband does not. He is actually outstanding at accepting people for exactly who they are. (Unless that person is arrogant or a bad driver, then you’re gonna see the west side in that boy.) For years, when I would share my feelings with him he would say in the most helpful way, “I don’t know why you let that shit bother you.” Well, I don’t either. It isn’t conscious, or I would most assuredly choose NOT to let said shit bother me.

A few years ago, he stopped doing that–PRAISE THE LORD–and started encouraging me at least to see, if not accept, people as they are. As I tried harder to do this, I realized: When people disappoint me, it is rarely because their behavior isn’t congruent with who they are; it is nearly always because their behavior isn’t congruent with who I want them to be. Applying this premise in your life may not save you years of therapy, but it will probably spare you some hurt feelings.

Except … I don’t always remember to apply it. That’s the problem. Sometimes my heart is already hurt before I analyze the situation, recognize my expectations and let people own their behavior. In the not too distant past, I would ruminate for wayyyy toooo lonnggggg harboring resentment and bitterness, nursing hurt feelings and disappointment, but now I realize that any amount of time spent on that is too much.

I recently re-read The Four Agreements, and I’m seriously considering getting them tattooed somewhere where I can see them every moment of every day. Have you read it? You should read it.

1. Be impeccable with your word.
2. Don’t take anything personally.
3. Don’t make assumptions.
4. Always do your best.

Logically, the one I struggle with the most is, “Don’t take anything personally.” Ugghhhhh. It goes right along with my constant prayer, “Less of me; more of you.” I always get in God’s way.

So, today, I am going to be me, and I’m going to let you be you. Whoever that is. Even if I think you aren’t living up to your potential. Even if I think you could be a better you if only you would stop being so insecure, or quit gossiping, or show a little humility (that was for you Brad Bell). Today (well, for the next few minutes until I get derailed) I am going to focus more on the log in my own eye and less on the speck in yours.