Turning point
When I was 18 I was in fierce competition with another young woman who was also a writer. We worked at Baskin-Robbins together and shared some boyfriends (not at the same time) and were in general very leery of each other.
Sadly, I was consumed by jealousy pretty much throughout my teen years. I was deathly afraid that some vampiric fellow female would suck my identity out and leave me bereft of individuality. I hated pretty much everyone who had anything over on me be it her body, her mind or her personality. Even celebrities could send me into a raging fit, making me not a fun date to take to the movies.
“Do you think she’s pretty?” I’d ask my companion of the female lead. Woe be the man who answered in the affirmative because he was in for an evening chock full of weeping, fuming, and various accusations.
This particular writer-woman I knew triggered me something awful and I think I triggered her, too. We tried tentatively to be friends — I remember in particular one day at work sitting on the counter, eating ice cream and laughing to tears about one boy we’d both known in the biblical sense — but we couldn’t get past our corrosive envy so eventually we just decided to hate each other.
I was working at the deli at some point, having been fired from the ice cream shop for giving away ice cream to friends (well, wouldn’t you?) and I had dropped out of school to the tune of a nervous breakdown. She had recently left her swanky private school and was back in town briefly before moving down South with her family. She came to the deli, which made for my own personal nightmare, let me tell you. There I was in my sweaty, stinky deli clothes (there is no stench like the stench of deli clothes) and she was all dressed up with impressive red lipstick. I was standing behind the counter, craning my neck to see her seated in the lunch rush and trying to decide who was fatter and who was better and who was going to win and basically hating myself and hating her and wishing I had my green steno pad right there to scrawl out all my terrible feelings about her. Then I had this shining star moment. I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if the light wired above my head hadn’t glowed just a teeny bit brighter like in the movies. I suddenly wasn’t jealous. I didn’t hate her.
“She is a good writer,” I thought. “But so am I.”
And I did this crazy thing. I walked over to her and I said, “D., you’re a wonderful writer. Don’t give up ever because you’re really good and I want to read your books one day.” And that was it. She was stunned; I don’t remember what she said. Thank you, maybe. But as I walked away, I felt really powerful. I thought, “Well now! I have this thing licked!”
It wore off though and I was back to my normal bitter self by the time my roommate with the much bigger breasts came home that evening but at least I was on the road to a life no longer ruled by envy.
I still get jealous but I don’t let it eat me up anymore. Jealousy can be a good motivator (”If he can do that, so can I!”) but only if it’s used wisely. There’s room for lots and lots of good writers and no matter how well I do, other people will surely do better. Mean people. People who are nasty and cruel and selfish. People who get all the breaks and are gorgeous and rich and don’t need book deals to pay off their student loans. This is what I’ve learned: What happens to other people is their deal entirely and has nothing to do with me. Simple, eh? But when I was 18 I thought everything had to do with me, as if God sat up there saying, “I think it would be interesting to send down a cute little punk rock girl with Manic Panic in her hair the exact color Dawn was looking for to stroll down the street in front of Dawn and her boyfriend.” Seriously. An event like that could send me into a tizzy sure to ruin my entire week. I’d read into it all sorts of implications and then visit them on my boyfriend.
Life pretty much sucked then.
Living without jealousy is not only far less sucky, it also allows me to see the grand benefits of having successul friends. I’ve found that 97% of the writers I’ve met are incredibly generous and kind and in a purely practical sense, it benefits me to be friends with them. Now when a friend or acquaintance gets a deal that I secretly want I may indulge in, “Why god? Why oh why them and not me???” But then I can say, “Well, them this time and me another time.” And if it’s someone I like and/or admire, I can truly shrug off the “why oh why” bit in mere seconds and go straight to the “hurray!”
I never thought I would get over my envy so this is an enormous deal to me. My psyche feels a little as if it’s dancing around in a field of clover when I think about then as opposed to now.
I have been on writing lists where the competition is fierce and the atmosphere is thick with the stench of jealousy. I catch it sometimes, too, talking to other writers and I know that sometimes the person standing in front of me is measuring me up and saying, “She doesn’t deserve the breaks she’s had; it should’ve been me.”
I get it because I’ve been there. I totally understand feeling that way. The only way out of it is to believe in yourself. Listen, there will always be people who will tell you that you’re not good enough or that the world is too crowded with brilliance already. To hell with them. If you believe that you have a gift and that it is your own unique gift, trust that you have a right to share it. Don’t let your jealousy get in the way of networking and learning and the pure pleasure of hanging with fabulous people who are so good that they may reach their goals before you do. We’ve all got our own journeys.
I don’t know how D. is doing now because she went and got herself married and took her husband’s name. I hate the way this common phenomena cuts down on my google stalking.
Dawn, you have NO idea how much I needed this entry. Though I’m no writer, I am a creator/crafter and my competition is fierce. I find myself battling jealously more often than I care to admit.
I so love your writing and your candidness.
You put into words that feeling I had once - many years ago: “afraid that some vampiric fellow female (or male) would suck my identity out and leave me bereft of individuality.”
Oh G-D it was such a scary way to feel, almost ate me alive, near-to sending me to the nut-farm!
I need to purge some *stuff* and you inspire me to do so - thank you for your writing/sharing.
Heh– and I thought I was the only one who felt that way.
Dawn:
THANK YOU for making me inhale coffee instead of swallowing it when you wrote:
“I was back to my normal bitter self by the time my roommate with the much bigger breasts came home that evening.”
I figure it’s good for the soul to laugh that hard, and maybe the sinuses, too.
I was *so* like this, only it bled into my early 20s, not just my teens. But you are right; once you’re over it, it’s so freeing. I did a lot of self help reading that would echo the sentiment that there’s room enough for all of us, that there’s no finite slice of pie to which we’re each entitled. I really do believe this, and don’t really experience envy of fellow writers/photographers. In fact, when I see someone either more talented or successful, I feel inspired rather than mired (oh God I just made a rhyme my dad would make).
Can I just selfishly add I’m glad your blogging break kind of isn’t one.
I love you.
We shared a brain in the 80s, Dawn.
That really spoke to me. I can be a fiercely jealous person and what you wrote was very much an inspiration. : )
Damn, my comment just got eaten. I’ll be briefer: jealousy vs. envy. To me they are two different things. Realizing that was my own lightbulb moment. When I am jealous, not only do I want what you have, but I also do not want you to have it. I discovered that envy, however, is a good motivator, as you artfully pointed out. When I am envious, I may want what you have, but I still think that you deserve it too, and I’m glad for your good fortune.
You are an inspiration, Dawn. I still remember your “bunny” post, and I actively think about that when I find myself seething with irrational jealousy that some no-talent so-and-so is having her crappy book made into a movie. Not that I’m naming any names. But you are absolutely right: the writers I’ve come to know (especially the mother-writers) have been so generous and supportive, and that’s helped me see that my jealousy is really just a way for me to make myself stuck so that I can procrastinate and never write my own crappy book that can be made into a movie.
So… thanks, as always, for your wonderful insight!
Dawn, this was powerful to read - I have been having feelings of professional jealousy lately towards someone I don’t even know, but who seems to be living the life I could have had if I hadn’t gotten “sidetracked” by mothering. I think there is something so profound with being able to say, “she is a good writer, and so am I.” I think you’ve helped me realize that success can take many forms and that one person’s success doesn’t have to detract from my own.