This morning I was full of jealousy. I was walking my dog when I bumped into another dog walker who had the most amazing legs. She was wearing short shorts and, to be fair, if I had shapely, toned legs like hers, I’d probably wear short shorts all year round too, possibly twinned with a coat and woolly hat in January.
After a few minutes of idle chit-chat and butt sniffing (the former was us, the latter was the dogs, in case anyone is unclear), we went our separate ways, but for the rest of my walk I kept thinking about her legs, which then got me thinking about how easily we can get caught in the “jealous of other people” trap.
Perhaps you’ve scrolled through LinkedIn and seen that a colleague has won a prestigious award, heard that a friend has been promoted into a role you’d love, or watched someone in your industry announce yet another exciting opportunity while you’re sitting there wondering how they manage to do all that and remember to put the bins out.
If you’ve felt a pang of jealousy, you’re human. The interesting bit is what happens next: do you let it fester until you feel thoroughly miserable about yourself, or do you get curious about what it might be telling you?
I’ve learnt to see jealousy as a useful clue, because sometimes it reveals something you want before you’ve even admitted to yourself that you want it. I certainly didn’t always see it that way; for years, it used to eat me alive from the inside out.
I would look at my friends and feel jealous of what they were doing, and believe me, my standards weren’t always particularly high. Sometimes it was something as simple as being able to sustain a long-term relationship or go out for the evening without spending the following day feeling as though I’d been hit by a bus. As I said, the bar wasn’t very high.
So when those same friends started doing jobs they loved, earning enormous bonuses, buying flashy cars and getting engaged, I wasn’t just a little jealous; I was oozing it, and the more I focused on what they had, the less able I was to appreciate anything I had achieved or anything that was good about me or my life.
Thankfully, I don’t respond like that now, so I thought I’d share the questions I asked myself on this morning’s walk, in case they’re useful the next time someone else’s legs, career, relationship, book deal or suspiciously relaxing family holiday sets something off in you.
1. What, specifically, am I jealous of, and what do I imagine it would give me?
This is where it helps to go a bit further than “I want what they’ve got,” because the thing itself and what you imagine it would mean are often different.
This morning, the obvious answer was her legs, but when I asked myself what having legs like that would actually give me, I got a bit stuck. Would I suddenly feel better about every aspect of myself? Probably not. Would all my problems disappear? Definitely not. Would I be more inclined to wear short shorts? Quite possibly, although the British weather would still have something to say about it.
At work, the answer can be more revealing. If you feel jealous when a colleague gets promoted, is it the job you want, or is it the recognition, influence or freedom you imagine comes with it? If someone wins an award, do you want the award itself, or do you want to feel that your work has been noticed? Those are very different things, and they may point you towards very different actions.
2. Am I comparing my whole life with one attractive bit of someone else’s?
This question stops me from assembling my dream life out of bits borrowed from about six different people: her legs, their successful business, someone else’s five children, another person’s endless holidays and, while we’re at it, a smallholding with a few chickens and an orchard.
Of course, I’d quite like the version where I have all of those things and never have to clean out a chicken coop, but that isn’t how life tends to work. Choices take time and energy, and from the outside we can rarely see the effort, trade-offs or difficulties that sit alongside the part we envy.
I know this particular dog walker, and she lost her husband last year. She’s still terribly sad, as you would expect, and I wouldn’t wish what she’s going through on anyone. So when I ask myself whether I’d trade places with her, the answer is an immediate no. I can admire her legs (and I do), while also remembering that they tell me nothing about how she’s feeling. I was jealous of one small thing I saw on our walk, while knowing there’s a great deal about her life I wouldn’t want her to have had to experience.
The same applies to the leader whose career looks effortless on LinkedIn. You can admire what they’ve achieved and even want something similar, but their announcement won’t tell you what it took to get there, what they’ve had to give up, or whether you’d actually enjoy doing their job on an ordinary Tuesday.
3. Do I want it enough to do something about it?
Once I’ve worked out what I want and given it a reality check, I can ask the most useful question of all: is this something I want enough to act on, and, if so, what could I do?
In my case, I could work towards stronger, more toned legs, but I’m never going to have her long legs because she’s six foot tall and I’m four foot and three-quarters. The three-quarters is very important, thank you. Unless I’m prepared to undergo some rather painful and expensive surgery, that particular ambition is going nowhere.
Could I exercise more? Absolutely. Am I going to? One day, when I have time. Which, now that I’ve written it down, sounds suspiciously like an excuse, but that’s all I’ve got for now. That’s my answer.
At work, though, this question can lead somewhere useful. If you’re jealous of the colleague who gets asked to speak at conferences, perhaps you do want to be more visible, in which case you could volunteer to present at an internal event, share an idea with your team or put yourself forward for an opportunity. If you’re jealous of someone’s promotion but realise you wouldn’t want the hours, pressures or responsibilities that come with their role, that’s useful information too.
Jealousy doesn’t always mean you need to change your life. Sometimes it tells you what you’d like to pursue, sometimes it shows you what you value, and sometimes it helps you realise that you only wanted the shiny bit of someone else’s life.
For me, the change has been learning to get curious about that uncomfortable little pang instead of using it as proof that I’m somehow falling behind. It’s one of many things I’ve learnt since my self-loathing twenties, when everyone else seemed to have their life sorted, to my much kinder fifties, when I know that very few of us actually do.
That’s the kind of shift I explore in The Confidence Breakthrough: understanding the patterns behind how we think, feel and behave, and using that understanding to make different choices at work and in life. Here’s a link to find out more.
Are you brave enough to share something you’ve recently been jealous of? And, having thought about it differently, what might that jealousy be telling you?
And as for the legs? I’ll let you know if I start toning them up.
When jealousy can be a positive force for action
