That little scoundrel. The jealousy monster. He's been rearing his ugly, pointy, scaly head again and man, have I had to fight him off. Hard.
When books don't sell like you hope they would. When reviews aren't pilling up like you wish they would. When your writing doesn't flow like you thought it would. Jealousy appears like a nasty beast.
"You suck," it says. "And those people? All those people out there--the writers, the authors, the successful dreamers--they don't."
"But, I'm doing what I can," I say. "I like what I've produced."
The monster simply scoffs. And grins. "Oh, really?"
And then a montage of everyone you follow's successful tweets and images and snaps flash before your eyes. Played to some stupid song like "We are the Champions"; but somehow with updated words like, "They are the Champions: And you're not."
Yes. Other people are successful. Will always be successful. And guess what? I want to be happy about that. Honestly--what right do I have to wish doom upon others, only until I too become as successful as they? I don't. What a hypocrite I would be too. To cast snide long glances and bad vibes on others as they share their successes--when all I want is to share mine.
Jealousy. It's a tough thing to battle. It's one of my weaknesses in life. Jealousy about others' fashion choices; income; hair length; weight loss; book sales; websites; follower count...and the list can go on. It can so easily consume me. To the point where I'm spending more time being envious over others' successes and less time being my own girl boss. And getting stuff done. Working on my own goals. Being confident about my own self. Joyfully accepting the path God has set me on. And rejoicing in being content right. Where. I. Am.
I'm working on this. This contentment journey. Always have been. Always will be. But it's something I constantly need to remind myself about. Especially when the jealousy monster appears in full force.
So. Here's to you. Your successes. Your goals. Your dreams. Can't wait to hear about them all.