Slaying the green-eyed monster

I spend an embarrassing amount of my time looking through the online portrayal of the lives of people I used to know. I spend a lot of my days envying the adventures of others and the paths their lives have forged, and comparing their current lives to my current life. I very rarely even consider that I have jammed a lot of living into my two short decades on this Earth, and I very rarely consider the possibility of many more years to fill with adventures of my own.

I envy their travel. I envy the fact that so many people have been to Asia and Africa. I know this will sound very close-minded but honestly I have minimal interest in either of those continents, yet somehow I still envy people for having experienced them. I temporarily forget that I too have had my adventures; I have pursued alternative lives in the USA and in Spain, and I have done more than my fair share of relocation.

I envy their friends and social lives. I forget that I have had the honour of getting to know some truly wonderful humans – particularly in the last four years – and that I have had the privilege of calling many of them my friends. I may not be constantly photographed smiling in a bar, surrounded by people with similar well-rehearsed expressions of happiness, but there are a great many people with whom I could talk and laugh if I were just to say ‘hello’.

I envy their credentials and jobs. I forget that I have a degree myself, and I forget that there are most likely a lot of years ahead of me for working exciting jobs and exploiting my talents.

I envy their adventure. I forget that I have jumped out of planes, and driven motorcycles, and scaled rock faces, and had conversations in other languages, and seen the sun rise and set and rise again, and gazed into the Grand Canyon, and seen countries from miles above, and felt the sea beneath my feet, and sang and danced and laughed and loved….

I envy people pointlessly without looking first to my own life. A life that has been host to many moments of joy for every moment of sadness. A life which has succumbed to a setback, which serves only to strengthen me and to encourage me to tread a new path of my very own.

“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it”. – Vincent Van Gough

And now for my three happys of the day:
2. My dog’s ears (see below)
3. Realising I was able to write this post.


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