This Feeling I Wish I Didn’t Have

I don’t usually say this out loud, but sometimes, the pangs of jealousy hit harder than I’d like to admit.

I scroll through social media, and there it is — another promotion, another new house, another smiling face celebrating something that, if I’m honest, I wish I had too. I’m happy for them, truly. But somewhere deeper, beyond the surface smiles, a quiet ache stirs:

When will it be my turn?
Will it ever be? 

It’s an uncomfortable feeling — this jealousy that creeps in even when I know better. Even when I remind myself that everyone’s timing is different, that everyone’s life unfolds at its own messy, unpredictable pace. It doesn’t stop the sting. It doesn’t erase the tiny fractures it leaves in my heart.

It’s not just the big milestones either. Sometimes, it's the small, ordinary moments that catch me off guard. The way someone is treated with gentleness and kindness — without having to beg for it, without having to prove they deserve it. Meanwhile, I’m left wondering why it feels so hard for me.
Why it feels like I'm always on the outside looking in, wishing someone would think of me the way they seem to think of others.

I’ve never needed the spotlight. I’ve never craved a grand stage or roaring applause. But I think — and maybe this is the heart of it — I just want to be considered sometimes. Not overlooked. Not an afterthought. Not invisible.

There’s a delicate line between not wanting attention and still wanting to matter. Between not seeking validation and still longing for acknowledgment. It’s a strange, vulnerable space to live in, and some days it feels heavier than others.

I know all the advice: Focus on yourself. Run your own race. Don’t compare your journey to theirs. And believe me, I try. I celebrate my small wins. I nurture my private joys. I remind myself that no one’s life is as perfect as it looks from the outside. But still, there are days when I ache for more. For different. For something I can’t quite name but feel so strongly.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe it's okay to admit that sometimes, envy and insecurity visit me uninvited. That I wrestle with feelings I wish I could rise above but haven't quite mastered yet. That part of being human is feeling these messy, complicated emotions — and choosing not to let them harden me, even when it would be easier to close off.

Instead of shaming myself for what I feel, maybe I can offer myself a little more compassion. Maybe I can recognize that underneath the jealousy is just a quiet longing to be seen, to be valued, to be loved in a way that feels effortless and true.

Maybe I can stop measuring my worth by how often others remember me, and start remembering myself more.

Start noticing the quiet victories I collect each day — the resilience it takes to keep showing up even when it feels like no one notices. The kindness I give even when it’s not reciprocated. The patience I extend to others even when I’m running low myself.

Those things matter. Even if no one else applauds them.
Even if they never make it to a social media highlight reel.

One day, I hope I'll look back and realize that the things I was jealous of were never what I truly needed anyway. That the life being crafted for me, quietly, patiently, in ways I can’t always see, was always going to be enough — not because it sparkles for the world, but because it fits me perfectly.

And until then — I’ll let myself feel.

I'll let myself hope.

I'll let myself be a little human, a little tender, a little messy — and maybe, a little closer to whole.

au revoir. 😊