I stopped being jealous of other women and my life is sweeter

Originally released on May 22, 2020

I was seven when I had my first bout of jealousy, at the same time as my first tantrum.

My very first bout of jealousy

I was walking in a shopping center with my mother and my friend Marie, who was celebrating her birthday the next day.

At the corner of a cheap jewelry store, I discovered the item OF MY LIFE. Well that was my feeling at the time. It took the form of a peacock feather earring. A marvel among marvels, which cost three francs and six sous, and was right under my nose, waiting to be picked up and offered by my mother.

Marie, of course, fell in love with my own jewel, and my mom offered to give it to him for his birthday.

Already a little reverent to have the bread taken out of my mouth, I asked as calmly as possible if I could have a pair too. I was told it wasn’t my birthday. So that was a no.

Drunk with hate, overwhelmed with a sense of injustice, I gave in to black rage.

My mother didn’t scream. She just whispered in my ear:

“You will be punished for doing this. »

Calm as sleeping water… it was according to the adage that I distrusted her! Once I got home, I didn’t get any bullying. Neither the next day nor the following days.

Jealousy, a feeling not tolerated in my house

Something was wrong, I felt it. And then I ended up forgetting this fight.

Ça n’est qu’une grosse semaine plus tard, alors que ma mère devait m’emmener passer un week-end en Grèce avec elle, qu’elle m’a finalement déposée chez mes grands-parents, avec my sac de fringues sur the back.

She lovingly slipped me:

“Have a nice weekend my kitty. »

I understood that I was deprived of vacation. It was my punishment, and she gave it to me without an ounce of anger, just with a strong act, which would have taught me the lesson. Afterward, I thought twice before giving in to my basic instincts, which definitely weren’t encouraged at home.

However, and much later, I’ve fallen into similar patterns at times.

That’s how it is, and without trying to justify my behavior… I grew up on my own. An only child, I have never had to share with other children, not only materially but also and above all emotionally.

My parents’ affection was entirely dedicated to me. As for the love of my grandparents and other uncles and aunts, it was the same since I was the youngest of all little ones.

So I evolved for a long time with the softness and comfort of exclusivity. Alone, it is necessary to get out of the family cocoon, to deal with sharing and also with difference.

My first encounter with “adversity”

It was when I got to college that I realized a painful thing: I wasn’t the best. I wasn’t the funniest or the most outgoing or the prettiest or the brightest.

Every day I watched these already superb and hilarious girls, who turned their heads around every prepubertal male in heat who crossed their path with a look and a rejoinder.

Me, no guy was looking at me… So I dreamed of being like them. Or at least I dreamed of being in society as at home: a talkative and cerebral teenager who chatted with adults.

At school, I curled up, crushed by the charisma of others. What could have remained admiration for others has unfortunately turned into crass jealousy.

I had come to hate those girls I wanted to be. Which of course didn’t help my social relationships grow! It wasn’t until I got to high school that I wanted to change things.

A stubborn jealousy

I started dating some girls that were more popular than my college friends, got invited to parties, started buying clothes at thrift stores, finding my own style, a visual identity.

Slowly, I became like the girls I envied and loved that feeling.

But jealousy was still tenaciousI could not cure her.

Worse still, I who had always been the protagonist of all my acting courses outside of school, had the idea of ​​enrolling in high school courses, where many girls turned out to be more gifted, and even participated in castings!

HELL OF HELL.

I didn’t even have that talent for myself anymore. I have been deprived of my unique singularity. A little devastated by this extreme feeling of injustice, something clicked.

The problem wasn’t all these girls who were sweeter and prettier and taller and more talented than me. The problem was me and the acidity I already had in my stomach.

The problem it was my lack of self-confidence. Actually.

Lack of self-esteem, a handicap

WOW SHOCK WHO WOULD BELIEVE IT. Once the mystery was solved, I decided it was time to stop and start again LIKE ME.

Still enough to no longer hate those I wanted to be like. A job that took me a few years!

You can’t go from self-hate to mad love in just 24 hours… To feel better, I had to learn to be kind to myself. I tell you my way in an article entitled: I’ve learned to love myself, to find myself beautiful and you can too.

In it, I list the exercises that have helped me along the way to self-acceptance.

Désormais adulte et épanouie, j’ai compris que ne pas ressembler aux meufs que j’adulais ne m’empêchait pas d’avoir des potes en or, un mec génial, un appart cool, une vie pleine de fêtes, de rebondissements et d ‘Love.

And I’ve mostly admitted that there’s more than one shape and color to beauty. That there are as many beauties as there are women.

Now, I am my ideal. And it does crazy good.