On the Other Side of the Fence

nospam@example.com (Annie Gabston-Howell) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 08:31:28 -0700

Envy is silly and unproductive but sometimes it sneaks up on me. My usual attitude about somebody else having something that I want is to figure out how to get it and decide whether the cost is something that I am willing to pay.

Over the years, this cost/benefit analysis has often led to the conclusion that, although I could have whatever it was I was drooling over, I did not want it enough to be willing to give up something else that I already had or had been working toward. Having a family of any size--let alone one the size of my own--very often means that I do not get to have the latest, greatest new thing on the market. That is not said out of regret, far from it. In a Silas Marner-like fashion, I count my gold and feel complete. Other people may have their treasures, but my own treasure--my children and spouse--are riches enough for me.

Yesterday morning, I stumbled. I felt near-overwhelming envy. Although it lasted for only a moment or two, it was real and definite. For whole, precious seconds I felt like throwing myself to the floor, kicking and screaming and demanding my share of what someone else has.

If the emotion had risen to the level of rational thought, it would have been expressed in the words: It's not fair!

I got over it quickly. I counted my gold and realized, yet again, how great is my own wealth.

The catalyst for my momentary fall from grace? My oldest daughter--the one who first taught me that the joy of parenthood, for me, is so great that any claims of 'sacrificing for my children's sake' is mendacious--sent me a text message.

Dr. Daughter is all grown up now. She has made very different choices in life. As a rule, her accomplishments are something that I am smugly proud of. My 'child' has grown up into a fantastic person. When I look at her, at how far she has traveled, at who she made herself become, I feel a physical surge of parental pride. She is herself and complete, but she is a piece of my soul that stands outside of me, that I can look at and love and admire without feeling hedonistic.

Her different life choices have led to different experiences that--usually--do not inspire envy. I like my life. The cost of having the life that I have is not having the life that she has. I am very much okay with that. Usually.

Just for a moment, though, I turned green with envy over something that my child has earned that I have not. She could afford this week what I probably will not be able to afford for myself for years. She revealed, in her text message, that she spent fifteen hours on herself.

Fifteen hours.

Doctor Daughter

nospam@example.com (Annie Gabston-Howell) — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 00:18:31 -0600

How delightfully odd.

MEandering - Sherry

On the Other Side of the Fence

Doctor Daughter