I’m envious of a lot of things and a lot of people. I’m envious of people that don’t have a weight problem. I’m envious of people who have good-paying jobs and are financially independent. I’m envious of people with more outgoing personalities because it means they have friends and a social life. I’m envious of people who live in New York, because that’s my dream location to live, and I’m envious of people who live in Chicago, because that’s home. Every day, I work on being grateful for what I have, rather than obsessing over the things I don’t, but it’s difficult. Especially when I’m constantly surrounded by people who have things or live lives I don’t. I remember when my sister met her boyfriend; I was so sick with jealousy, I could barely get through the first dinner he had at our house. I was angry at myself for not pushing myself to be more social, and I was angry at her for doing something I had never done. I’m over that now, he’s a great guy and he makes my sister happy, which is really all that counts. Still, though. It stings.
It’s part of the reason I didn’t attend my 10 year reunion back in 2010. I didn’t need to be surrounded by women who’d made something of their lives while I’m struggling to find a job and living with my parents. I already felt less-than when I was in school to begin with, I didn’t need to make it harder for myself as an adult.