Jealousy- in two parts. (1)

Genesis

Jealousy is probably the most creative emotion any human can conceive of. Even more so than love. It’s like a hot spark softly landing in a bed of dry sawdust. It smoulders for a second and then ignites- flames rapidly rising and consuming everything until there is nothing but ash and soot and choking smoke. And that’s how it always starts with me. A tiny spark.

I am no stranger to jealousy because it has a long history with me. We are like old opponents, wary of each other but comfortable in the other’s presence, that is, until we join battle again. But this time it surprised me. I can’t even remember clearly what the spark was. Being left out again? Or the idea that I had been lied to? No proof, but none needed. The flames are doing their work. And it’s oh-so-beautifully creative!! What started out as a slight disappointment grew into a simmering anger. And a simmering anger grew into a cold frustration, which grew into a desire to lash out.

In objective terms it starts with a perceived insult. It can be real or imagined, but your ego thinks that it has been hurt. You’re ignored or passed over for another person. Perhaps you’re not feeling wanted, or not feeling wanted enough. Perhaps you want what another is getting. And even, possibly, you want what you had before. But all of these wants share one thing in common- creative embellishment. Jealousy takes the mundane and makes it magical because in order for it to thrive it needs to make you think that you are inferior to the ‘other’. It needs you to believe that you are somehow being cheated of something you really want and need.

I wanted the attention. I wanted the love. I wanted the admiration, the time, the respect, the feeling of being wanted. I wanted to feel important to him. But he chose to spend his time with others. And my imagination filled in the blanks. In truth, he has every right. I do not have a sole mandate on his time, or his attention. He is another human with another life that is fully his own. And my imagination lied to me. When he went out, for a day- a single day in his whole span of life, in my whole span of life- my jealousy told me that he had chosen. It told me that all those things that I wanted were being given to another, to use or waste as they pleased. And my imagination told me that he was doing it because he really wanted to give it away to someone other than I. And my jealousy made up these wonderful fantasies of smiles and laughter and love between him and another- all because my jealousy took over my imagination. And my ego cried out in pain. And when it could cry no more, it rose up with a steely look in its eye and it went to sharpen its knife. It went to make plans of war. It sent out spies and it built a fort of hurt around it. And when it was ready it marched out to battle…

. . . To witness the bloody fight see part 2- Catharsis. . .