The Green-Eyed Monster

THE EVILS OF ENVY

For reasons that seem obscure to us in the year 2012, Shakespeare called jealousy the green-eyed monster when he wrote the play Othello in 1604. I don't think Shakespeare believed that green eyes indicate evil...my husband has beautiful green eyes and not one evil or envious bone in his body. Historians explain that in Shakespeare's time, green was the color sickness and also the color of unripe fruit that can cause its eater so much pain.

But envy is definitely a monster when it takes charge of my brain and measures everything I do, everything I am and everything I own against the actions, talents, and possessions of other people. In this monster's grip, I am unable to think rationally, and I waste an enormous amount of time and effort on resentment and self-pity that does absolutely nothing to improve my own situation...in fact, it undermines my situation.

When I had weight loss surgery, I had been obese for so long that I had stopped being jealous of naturally slim people. I felt that they belonged to a different human tribe. So I was surprised to find myself sitting in a support group meeting a few months after my band surgery thinking evil thoughts about another bandster who had lost 50 pounds already. I had "only" lost 35 pounds. What was wrong with me? Why was she blessed with superior band success? I was a good girl too - a very hard-working and deserving girl. It just wasn't fair!

Then in a far-off corner of my cloudy little brain, I heard my mom saying, "I never told you life would be fair." No, she hadn't told me that life is fair. She had reminded me over and over again that life is hard and that bad things happen to good people...kind of a grim view of life, but mom was nothing if not honest. At first I resisted those blunt words of hers. Mom's life was hard, but I vowed that my life would be different, better, happier.

But how? How would the different and better things happen if God didn't send a shower of glittering gold coins and success down onto my eager, upturned face? And again I remembered Mom. In my mid 20's I complained bitterly to her about a work acquaintance who seemed to get all the praises, all the raises, all the promotions. I'll call her Debbie (a popular name when I was born). Mom said, "Why don't you just ask Debbie how she does it? If she's a fake like you think she is, her answer will confirm it. If she's for real, maybe you can learn something from her."

At the time, I didn't have the chutzpah to follow Mom's advice, but I did begin to pay closer attention to Debbie's work habits and behavior. Over the next few months, I reluctantly admitted that she did deserve some of her accolades. Some of them still seemed undeserved and unfair, the result of her pretty face and outgoing manner. It wasn't until I was in my 50's that I realized that a lot of good luck shone down on Debbie from heaven simply because she expected it to. What a novel idea!

Now when people ask me the secret of my success with the band, I want to say something like, "It happened because I demanded it." Like I had written out a purchase order for a 90 pound weight loss, put it in an envelope, addressed it to God, and threw it up in the air for him to catch and fulfill. But if that's too metaphysical an explanation for you, I do have some more down-to-earth ideas about it.

THE BEAST WITHIN ME

Like Shakespeare, I call my jealousy the green-eyed monster. It’s the malevolent beast who chews on my heart when I'm jealous or envious. Officially, though, jealousy and envy are different things. Jealousy is what you feel when you fear that something or someone (like your spouse, or the job that you and a coworker named Debbie are competing for) will be taken away from you. Envy is what you feel when you want something or someone that another person already has: their weight loss success, their bank account, their fancy car, their 9-bedroom home.

In my experience, both jealousy and envy get me on a never-ending, tiresome treadmill of comparison and criticism. It becomes an obsession so blinding that I can't see any of the good things happening in my life. I compare myself to others, like my ex-husband's beautiful and devoted female lab assistant, or Debbie's MBA degree that I'm sure will earn her the promotion I want, or Marcia's 148 pound weight loss which is 100 pounds more than mine. Adding up my skills, talents and accomplishments results in a negative number every time, and those flashing red numerals reinforce my often unrealistic concept of all the pluses on Debbie's and Marcia's side. I hate them for it. I hate myself. Instead of making a new plan, I end up planning an appropriately painful (if unlikely) demise for my rival.

Hearing me say that I hate myself may surprise you. I'm well aware that I have the reputation of being a Little Mary Sunshine, or the relentlessly cheerful storybook heroine, Pollyanna, who triumphed over every adversity with a smile on her face and a "thank you" on her lips. Am I telling you to deny that you're envious, to smile even as your rival receives a round of applause at the Weight Watcher's meeting when she reaches her weight goal? After all, I've implied that you're suspicious of successful people and bear a grudge against them, as if you're the child who didn't win a prize playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey at your sister's birthday party...your evil sister who not only won the prize but also received hundreds of marvelous birthday presents and the first piece of birthday cake, the big corner piece with all the extra pink frosting roses on it. Your evil sister who deserves to get food poisoning from that cake and die a horrible, slow, painful death, after which you will move into and redecorate her bedroom with Justin Bieber posters. Am I saying that you should just grow up and get over it, or that you're weak and spineless for feeling something as unworthy as envy?

No, actually, I'm not. I'm just suggesting that this one time you try stating your wish plainly, preferably out loud, and framed as intent instead of as secret longing. Give up the "I wish Jean would gain 500 pounds and have to be transported with a crane." And no, saying, "I wish I were as successful as Jean" won't work either, though it's certainly better than devising cunning punishments for me. Try something more like, "I will lose another 62 pounds and celebrate that next year just as we're celebrating Jean's success today." Tell that to your reflection in your mirror and to a friend who'll be sure to say, "Go for it!"

WHY ASK WHY?

I'm an analytical as well as an optimistic person (I choose to see that as a felicitous if conflicting combination of my parents' strongest traits), and when evaluating myself, my past, and my prospects for the future, I tend to get stuck on the "Why? Why am I this way? Why am I acting like this?" and on and on and on. But as the old Budweiser commercial said, “Why Ask Why?”

Don't torture yourself by asking, "Why am I so envious? Why can't I let it go and be the positive, optimistic person Jean says I should be?" The asking probably won't get you very far. The answer could just be as simple as, "Because you're a living, feeling human being." Nothing wrong with that! Although I majored in art and like art museums for an hour or so, it's boring to spend a lot of time with inanimate (if beautiful) marble statues. I want friends who are flawed (like me) and capable of both deep feeling and high aspirations.

On the other hand, don't spend too much time with the loyal, well-intentioned people who feed your envy by saying, "You're so right, she doesn't deserve that success, she hasn't worked nearly as hard as you have, and did you know she has six toes on her left foot and even worse halitosis than my poop-eating dog?"

Oops! Did I say "poop-eating dog"? Indeed I did. Which brings me (finally) to my final point. Try to see the humor in the situation. Admit it, if Tracey Ullman were up on the stage acting out the part of an envious character and using your very own words, you'd be laughing your a** off now.