Compare, Compare, Despair
The hidden treasure in ugly envy
I started my morning by gulping a few swigs of envy. It was bitter and it left me feeling sad, self-critical and a little bit dirty.
I’d seen a sweet Note praising a popular Substack writer’s work, and I hopped over to have another look at this writer’s welcome piece. It was beautifully illustrated and she sounded warm, human and welcoming. Her paid subscription offer was clearly articulated and she was offering lots of good things. It had 285 likes.
The voices began1. ‘You’ll never get that many likes’. ‘You’ll never write as well as her.’ ‘You might as well give up and focus on your therapy practice and running the temple.’ One voice in particular sounded very young: ‘She’s got what I want, and I WANT IT!’
I must disclose at this point that, long ago, this writer & I had coffee in a hipster bakery and chatted about writing and everything. She was a lovely person and she worked very hard - from what I’ve seen of her current output, it looks like she still does. Those 285 likes are the culmination of many years of hard graft, plus her talent, plus possibly the splash of luck that most successful people have stirred into the mix. I know that she has been growing her subscriber list for way longer than me, and that she deserves every morsel of success that comes her way. The envious part of me has its own opinions, but all the rest of me is very happy for her.
And of course, it’s not about her at all. The envious part of me has one job, and it does it well - ‘find people who have what you want or who are being the person you want to be, compare me to them, find me lacking, and trigger envy, tantrums and despair’. As they warn in the 12 step programmes, making comparisons all too often slides into self-flagellation - ‘compare, compare, despair’.
Why does this part of me assiduously bring me down like this? I’m going to ask it right now.
Hmm. It says, ‘if I don’t find people to compare you with, you’ll get lazy and you’ll miss out on opportunities and you’ll waste your life’. It also says, ‘if I don’t make you feel bad, you won’t pay me any attention. I need you to act when I show you the things other people have that you want. Otherwise you’ll never bother to try and get them for yourself.’
This makes so much sense to me, and I feel a rush of unexpected gratitude towards the part that makes me envious. It’s making me envious of this writer’s work because I think it’s beautiful, and I love that she’s helping people, and I want to make beautiful work that helps people too. There are less altruistic motives mixed in as well. The envious part knows that I sometimes rest my self-esteem on likes. It also knows I have a part that loves money. It’s trying to help those bits of me out too.
When I dig deeper, even these ‘less attractive’ desires for fame and riches are hiding something more wholesome - the wish for healing the parts of me that don’t feel good about themselves, or the wish for security, or the wish to be loved. As Armstrong says below, we need to get curious about what our envy is actually pointing us towards.
“Don’t avoid envy. Don’t we all have fantasies along the lines of ‘Oh if only I lived here or had those things my life would be amazing’? But when you analyse what’s really speaking to you, it often turns out that it’s not really a desire for more wealth but the idea of escaping some of the more mundane parts of your current life; that feeling of ‘starting afresh’ and being a slightly different, slightly better person.” From ‘How to Worry Less About Money’ by John Armstrong
If I was able to welcome the stabs of envy when they arrived, what might I learn about myself? Could I then redirect my energies towards those things that really matter to me? How might I transmute that bitterness into life-giving nectar?
My unique envy points me towards my unique vows. I vow to keep working on my writing craft. I vow to pass on my wisdom (which flows through me from others) with generosity. I vow to be honest about my quirks and flaws. This is my sacred work.
My envy has offered me one last gift this morning. I took one last look at this writer’s post and the first comment was from one of her readers, sharing a poem by Martha Postlethwaite which I’ve copied below. I didn’t know it before, and I love it. It speaks to me with such a clarion voice.
I have a part that believes that it is my duty to save the whole world. This weighs on me sometimes, especially when the ‘save the world’ part joins forces with the ‘envy’ part. I should be getting up at 5am to write, like that successful writer! I should be going to prison for my eco-activism like that colleague activist! I should be growing the temple community into a vast size like that popular Buddhist teacher!
No.
All I can do is my portion of work - and that is only 1/7.8 billionth of the work that needs to be done. All I can write is my Substack. All I can offer is what I have in my own heart, with its battle scars and its tenacity and its great tenderness.
All I can be is me.
Go gently,
Satya <3
Clearing
Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself to this world
so worthy of rescue.
Martha Postlethwaite
I speak about the different voices inside me and the different parts I have because I use Internal Family Systems to navigate my internal and external landscapes - if you haven’t read my introduction (with puppies) yet, here it is.
As always, so grateful for your honesty and your modeling a healthy way to deal with emotions like envy. You’re doing great work, Satya! Also love the poem.
I read a long time ago that paying attention to what or who you're jealous of can help clarify what your goals are, your "true north." (I think it was in The Artist's Way but could have been elsewhere.) I've always found that helpful. I like your way of talking with yourself! When I'm really stuck on writing or a personal problem, I interview myself in a notebook. It can be disconcerting but revealing.
I honestly think that a lot of envy when it comes to something like writing success is the scarcity that a capitalist system forces us all into. There are plenty of readers for all the words anyone wants to share, but only so many grants, bylines, book contracts, whatever. It creates hierarchy, too, telling us that anyone who achieves those things must be better than everyone else. But why do those things exist at all?! Truthfully what I want is for nobody to need them, to not ever feel a compulsion to strive for them. Most of us are always trying to create better art simply because we must, because we love it.