I am going to be honest: there was a time when I unwittingly lived with jealousy on a day-to-day basis. I would resentfully survey my social media feeds, watching all of my peers and friends take the next steps towards graduate adulthood (moving to London, embarking on new relationships, taking fabulous holidays…etc, etc). And sure enough, I would feel the curdle of envy twisting its way through my gut.
I was unable to summon any kind of positive emotion towards those who were doing well because every time they succeeded it only seemed to highlight where I was failing. Someone doing something that I desperately wanted to do myself felt like that person had literally taken my dream and made it into their own.
As I sat sobbing and choking down a cup of tea (because I’m all British like that), lamenting about how ugly and green I felt inside, my dad would say, “Deborah, who cares what they’re doing? You’re not going to be happy until you’re happy with Deborah.”
Well, it’s only now that I am happy and relatively content that I can truly say, “Dad, I get it.”
“You are only going to be happy when you are happy with you.”