When I was little, I was jealous of absolutely all your friends. When I grew up in general, nothing has changed. My envy is not about a desire to harm someone or some action in a foreign address. No, it is about the existential anger that someone gets more than I do, but I have not had a coherent scheme to explain to myself why the world is so. I envied for their pain points: a good relationship with the parents, the attention of men, the possibilities do not count the money, beautiful things that are crammed closets, good health, incredible mind, which opens all doors, a little later – the possibilities are what you want, in any quantity, and a career that develops public success and professional recognition. My envy – a kind of conversation with the sky and some even higher power, which I submit expense. At the same time I am terribly afraid that the universe is cruel, that if he sees that I, as an old woman at the goldfish, I ask for something above and beyond what I have, it is my general take all.
Once, too, as a child, I saw that I did not have access to everything, and decided that if I’m a good girl, then, in the end, I will have an Oscar for best screenplay. One year ago (for some reason it was then), it became clear that in fact the universe spit on my circuit, it has other laws. And I sat there with his house of cards, which is scattered along the room. These cards can now be played in a Snap. And this fool in the room already. House crumbled remains envy.
Perhaps the word “envy” damn many meanings. I myself am afraid that part of it which is about the evil actions or evil thoughts material. Therefore, when about son suddenly say: “How can you have it speaks well” – I say hastily, “but he has a problem with weight.” Somehow, I believe in that so neutralize potential envious, I reconcile it with the reality that I also have a problem. And he will. White magic. I must say that, to my shame, I “reconcile” with friends their problems. I have enough to know that they are, for example, suffer from the fact that bite their nails. And yet, our imaginary scales are equal in this world. And I can talk further.
But I do not understand how to communicate with those who are actually doing well. I have this friend, and I had to unsubscribe from it. Because next to her, I like a machine, which must always press on the brake. It does not fit into any of my scheme. Here is a favorite: “Everyone has his cross.” Well, if not, the cross? If a person is just so good? Here I am lost. And just leaving. I do not understand why it is. I do not understand why to me it was impossible. Why am I not in her place? For there, to be honest, I had to be, because I was such a good girl, so studied, so tried. I just said no, that the universe do not care about success in school.
But in real life is different. So my mother, in spite of all my efforts, I have not always liked, but my girlfriend Masha with blue eyes, blond hair and absolutely any estimates. Just I like it. She honestly thought my mom a beautiful, but for me, she thought, just “telling the truth”. I ran up to 28 years go with this: “Wait, I will now still on the piano play”.
It seems to me that envy – is the flip side of “friendly and good baby.” A person who is jealous, has the right to their envy. He has no right to wish evil to others or to do it. But in a sense he is right. And with this feeling, believe me, it is not very sweet. It works without stop valves, as a conditioned reflex. It is difficult to turn off. It has a lot of anger. Anger at the world. Anger over. And in it, as I see it, a lot of abandonment and useless, lost the battle beforehand. Because envier likely either not noticed, or noticed as compared with others. We loved the condition. And accustomed to the idea that in another garden the grass is always greener. Even if you have all played the piano. This feeling bad, there are a lot of resentment and not found until the time of tears.
This is what I am? And the fact that my inner critic, which Willy Wonka: “Come on, tell me how you can …” – finally stepped back. And he was a guard. He showed me, from whom he was guarding me for a long time. There, right behind him, there is very angry girl. This girl is jealous of this girl is angry. This girl does not love others. This girl is offended by those who were once close to, but does not feel guilt. Looking for how to avenge the insult. She wants somewhere a place where a humiliation in response to those who once wronged and forgotten, and she recorded. And this evil girl I do not like, because, as in a fairy tale Debi Gliori: “Such evil kids do not like anybody else.” Because my grandmother once said that the children in the garden and the school did not like me because I “felt in me was something bad.” It is a pity that I did not have an adult who would say to me: “Even if you become a green bug, I will love you, and I will not be scared.” I need to somehow get to this girl. Hug her, to listen, to make friends. I’m afraid of what she would say to me. I’m afraid this uncomfortable, part of the conflict. But I suspect that there is an important resource, which I lack. The question is, do I have enough courage to take it. And yet, thanks to the “100 days of positive” invented by me (when I wrote down all the good things with me and inside me comes). It was the awareness of the days when I could see the story.
And because it’s more about that. Envious in very unfree. He sees the intensity of the reaction, what he wants most, but so far it does not allow it to himself, he will not allow others to do this safely. For example, lie on the couch with a book, while he is engaged in, for example, household chores. And salt is that others can not save him or release. The key there is only him. In the trunk, in the weft, in the apple. God knows where. And it’s not his fault, it’s his trouble. But he is his own evil Cheburashka. And he’s a magician with a blue helicopter.
We are asked to comment on the sincere and pitched the story of the priest and poet Sergiy Kruglov :
Envy Orthodox people habitually called “sin,” but not everything is so simple and one-dimensional. And the author of the text is exactly feels for his long-suffering experience. And few of us know the feeling of envy, feeling nauseated, you whatever you call it, though, “white envy”, even though the color of …
Any sin – not a created thing, because Satan is not a creator. Sin – damage to some God-given good things. Wine – a beautiful thing, and drunkenness – the sin, love created by God, and fornication – corruption of love, and so on. Envy is a parasite on the natural human ability to see the good and to have it good. And corrodes the heart of envy when the man himself is not that good and it seems that it does not.
I think, here in this “seems” is the essence of pain. A similar stretches in a similar. If I’m jealous of that friend in life is good, and I can be good, but kind of a pain in the run up prevents me this opportunity to be realized. If I’m jealous that someone in life is love, the ability to love is in me, but she was sick, downtrodden, imprisoned in a cage. As this opportunity, from which love can bring forth to release? It is easy to ask, but that’s the answer … Natalia, author of the text, suffered this issue with their lives. She has already made very important: boljuchih tore his problem by himself and was able to look at it from the outside. This is a very significant step towards healing.
To take a step further? Natalia said importantly, “It is a pity that I did not have an adult who would say to me:” Even if you become a green bug, I will love you, and I will not be scared. ” Exactly. But how and where to find this “adult”? Natalia says that this savior, “a magician in the blue helicopter” has inside himself envious. Will he make his rescue drowning of their own hands? I dont know. of such a Saviour, who loves me for no reason, become Christ himself, I would not have saved many terrible things in me. But Natalia and all those for whom it is close problem, heart wish success on this path – and meetings with people who love nothing. These people certainly are.
Photo: Maria Klimova