Envy. Gosh, envy is so powerful and so incredibly ugly. For me, it’s the root of all unhappiness.
Envy has been part of my life since I was very young. I remember being extremely jealous of my cousins (who were also my close friends growing up), wishing I could be like them and look like them. They were so pretty, both in dance and gymnastics, with closets full of leotards, costumes and beautiful accessories. They got to wear makeup, had their hair done up in braids and played with American Girl dolls. I was a tomboy, with a mullet, dressed in hand-me-down clothes. My mom had to purposely put me in pink shorts during T-ball so I wasn’t mistaken for a boy on our coed team. Oh, and I played with my Cabbage Patch doll, Becky, who also had a less-than-fortunate ’do because I puked in her hair one time when I was sick.
I literally had an ugly phase until about the age of sixteen or seventeen, so you can only imagine how I felt in middle school and high school. I opted for the grunge look through my freshman year, wearing what my friend Bridgid and I called “grandpa pants” and old tees that we found at thrift stores. It was easier to be different than trying to fit in. Then, a holy-crap moment happened — my freshman year of high school, I was nominated for homecoming court. It was the first time I felt like I was noticed, or pretty, or potentially popular. Then even crazier, one of the star basketball players actually wanted to go to the homecoming dance with me. No. Frickin’. Way. On homecoming night, somehow another miracle happened. My stricter-than-strict parents okayed for me to stay over at his house! Granted, we were with another couple that they trusted, but OMG! That night, after the dance, we all went in their hot tub. Being a competitive swimmer, I brought my sporty Speedo one piece … and I instantly regretted it when Stephanie hopped in with her gorgeous and sexy bikini. I literally wanted to melt. I felt so insecure. What was I thinking??! I would have killed to look like her, and to be like her and have a boyfriend like her.
Flash forward my freshman year of college. During the first weeks of meeting friends and finding my group, I remember seeing what the other girls were wearing: tank tops with spaghetti straps and cute going-out outfits. My wardrobe did NOT include these items. Not again. What was I thinking??! I would have killed to have clothes like them and be cool like them.
Flash forward to my adult life and my climb down the corporate ladder. I knew that having a baby would change so many things and so many of my priorities. I also wanted to change my job and career path at the time, so I truly felt ready to embrace “the change.” I was also extremely burnt out and I thought that maternity leave would be the perfect time to soul search and apply for jobs. Surprise! Maternity leave is no frickin’ vacation and, surprise, there is no extra time to do anything (especially trying to think straight while being sleep deprived).
Toward the end of my maternity leave, I went into my office and let my boss know that I would not be coming back, that I was going to stay home full-time. A few weeks later, I was convinced to come back part-time as a consultant making a pretty good salary. Best of both worlds right here — woot! Real life confession: I made it two weeks (or four actual days on the job).
I remember calling my husband crying, begging him to let me walk out the office doors. In all fairness, my parents had just called letting me know that my son would not take a bottle from them and hadn’t eaten in like six hours (which is basically eternity in newborn hours). I just needed to get out of there and get back to my son! I remember thinking ,“How the heck do working moms do it?!” And, I was only a part-time working mom! Here marks the beginning of my mom-envy dance.
How much should I be working? How much should I be making? How much should I be there for my kids? No matter what my choice was, I continually found myself envious of another mom’s situation or set-up. Look at her with that sweet SUV. Look at her hosting a dinner party, while working full-time and having two kids. Lord, how?!!? Look at me trying to find time to clean a toilet. How lucky is she with her weekly cleaning service?! Gosh, I would kill for that.
Flash forward my present. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old mom of two kiddos with a great life, a great husband and a mostly great self-esteem and confidence. Still though, I struggle with envy all the frickin’ time.
It’s a daily reminder to myself that I chose this path. I traded money for happiness. I traded those new kitchen floors for extra time with my kids. I made this choice. Any day, I could go back to corporate life and buy all the things. I could do this, but I know in my heart that I wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. Truth be told, I know I’d be envious of my budget-conscious self getting in morning runs and afternoon errands, pursuing my writing passion and sneaking in those extra snugs and yet another round of lava monster.
P.S. Envy is still a motha f’in bitch.
– Michelle Zimmerman
Michelle Zimmerman moved to the Madison, Wisconsin, area a little over five years ago with “a hot husband, two children (six years old and three and a half years old) and a dog (our first born!).” She has worked in the marketing, retail and digital space for more than fifteen years and is currently transitioning out of her role as the director of Madison Originals, a local nonprofit organization that supports independent restaurants. Next up for her is a writing career and she is working on her first book! She publishes a blog as a way to share life stories, tune up her pen and create community.