I try very hard not to be affected by other people and their accomplishments. I honestly feel happy for another when they encounter some sort of acknowledgement for their hard work, or if they achieve a key milestone they had been striving towards for a long time. We are all humans, and we should all be thankful for not only one another, but for the solidarity that the human condition brings to us all.
But I’m not a robot. Sometimes I’m envious. Sometimes I see all the amazing things that are happening to other people, all of the money they are making, all of the beautiful countries they are visiting, and I find myself being a little bit jealous. I think to myself, “What am I doing wrong?”. “Why is it not me that is being rewarded for my hard work and contributions” Then when I catch myself having these thoughts, I step back and understand that my time for greatness just has not come yet.
Writing is therapeutic. It’s an outlet for all of the words that bounce around my mind, getting into those little crevices that were borne out of traumatic events where fear and insecurity governed all rational thinking. The internal monologue shooting around my brain is exhausting at times, but I try to be positive about the continuous script that my is being produced every single moment. Surely it’s a sign of life? Of who I am? My essence? Of a quest to understand life and all that it entails? I’ll go with that.
So when I see my close friends and acquaintances acquiring success, I’m truly excited and content for them. I mean, wouldn’t I want them to feel the same towards me should I encounter the same successes, or similar ones? I just wish that my moment to shine would come sooner rather than later, that’s all. If that makes me greedy and selfish, then bring those labels on. There is nothing wrong with a little financial motivation. I’m not associating greatness with money, I want to be clear about that. I’m just saying that sometimes being able to have more means getting more.
At the end of the figurative day, stress and expectation becomes a personal limitation. Enjoying this single moment of time is all we really ever have. Things that we may buy are like toys to a child: they grow old quickly, their novelty often forgotten within days. After all, what is a car other than a shiny thing that brings you from point A to point B? Italy and New York City will still exist when I have enough money to get there, and I must believe that.
I just need to trust in me and de-personalize others’ successes. I can’t let a roadblock deter from my enthusiasm and willingness to move forward in a life that is so often marred by sadness and heartbreak. If that means it taking a few more years to be where I want to be, then so be it. And maybe being where I want to be isn’t where I’m meant to be. All I know is that right now I’m right here, an age that I’ll only get to be at this exact moment, and surrounded by feelings that are mine and mine only. I’m going to embrace that, utterly inhabit the one-ness with the space around me, and focus on the notion that what I am putting out there is what is good. If that positivity comes back to me, then great, but I’m happy with just knowing that it’ll go to someone…or something.