A fellow blogger of mine wrote a post sometime ago about “The Green Eyed Monster” asking what wakes “the monster for you?”

Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re Jealous  of!

I may raise my eyebrow here and there when I hear people my age have degrees. I have always wanted to go to college and “make” something of myself. School didn’t come easy to me at all. They’re lots of people in the world who are successful and it didn’t come easy. When looking back, I could have made better choices. When taking a few college classes years ago. I could have applied myself better, stuck it out, and got the help I needed at the time. Yes, it would have taken me longer than SOME but it could and still can be done. I’m not sure this is what defines jealousy?

If you look Jealousy up in the Wikipedia it’s an emotion. The word refers to negative thoughts and feelings of insecurity, anger, anxiety over anticipated loss of something reference to human connection. The word these day’s is also distinct from envy. This is my confession letter.

Dear Brook,

I want to openly share because I’m hoping to find some clarity in my writing and accept your non friendship request you made all those years ago. I want good tidings for you, instead of the opposed.

We were in our elementary years. My family and yours would get together yearly. We’d run off to the park over the green hill in our dresses into the sunshine laughing and carrying on about who would go higher on the swing. We’d swing for what seemed to be hours, we’d discuss what we were going to be when we grew up, and we were going to do it together. We were both girly, wanting the same girly things joining the dance team, hanging out together without our parents, and even discussing our future together as doctors or lawyers. Many times after our family gatherings we’d go home and call each other the next morning talking and giggling about what we did the day before. We had so much fun that sometimes we’d ask my grandma if she would bring me over the next day. she’d visit with your mom and dad while we played Barbie dolls the whole time up in your room until it was time to leave.

The gatherings lasted four or five years but the friendship slipped away year after year. Yes, we would talk but each year got different. You got different, you still wore dresses, matching little outfits, with matching bows in your beautiful long black shiny hair, you went to gymnastic, dance, and competed in one more activity, you won many ribbons and trophies, you maintained your activities just like your parents maintained their marriage, you became friends with the kids who done the exact things as you, which didn’t include me. I still called you every chance I got hoping we could continue the friendship. One time your mom answered the phone. She said you “weren’t there” but then you yelled “mom who is it”

I caught that Brooks mom!

you let me go ahead and talk to her but the damage was done

You became friends with an acquaintance of mine, I grew jealous of as well. I didn’t understand what she had that I didn’t? One time when asking our acquaintance if I could go with her to your house she informed me her father told her I was only jealous of the relationship and didn’t want to miss out on what you two were doing. Which is true. At that point in my life it wasn’t in a mean or vindictive way. She also shared with me how you were upset that I had asked to come along. I was scared of things you two weren’t scared of and would only hinder your fun. When I heard that and what her father had shared as well, it hurt my feelings. I sobbed like a baby right in front of her! that day all of you confirmed to me everything I thought I was in one day. My feelings after my grief shifted that day to anger which led to hate.

We ran into each other a couple times in our twenties. We both had are own places, you even had that law degree. imagine that! You were still as slender and beautiful as you are now. You had a few people with you, you introduced me as a “distant” friend whatever the hell that means? at thirty when my grandma died you and your mother came up to me to send regards, you told me you would like to have lunch sometime. My response was “you get a hold of me I’m in the book.” You never did which came to know surprise. The straw that broke the camels back was after my twin boys passed away your mom sent a card to me and signed you and your husband’s name. I saved all the other cards. I tossed your moms in file thirteen.

I realize it may have been a bit creepy pressing you to be my friend all those years. In writing this letter just as I assumed I realize it’s not anger as much as it’s hurt and humiliation. I can read maybe a couple of things you supposedly told someone, could possibly be a lie especially now that we’re older I see her in a different light than when we were younger. I will take this into consideration in my stinking way of thinking. These feelings are lousy, yet sit on each shoulder-blade playing tug a war with each other battling over the right and wrong (flesh and spirit.) The wrong has a strong hold on me but my soul is saying these feelings are not right. The anger built up it turned it into a fight.

A fight with myself

My whole life I believed I was trash because of what others had said to me or about my looks. I have chosen to believe them and allow everyone except myself give me an identity. Which is odd because none of you know me? I’m a thirty something year old woman. I’m married to a good man, he’s been my friend, we have a son and he’s a doll face, I have a group of friends who love me and my shaded life, my job is good and brings me joy, we don’t make much but we pay the bills, and have a bit left over to say yes to Gabe more than no. I’m just as happy as you are even if were not picture perfect, Let me save you the suspense no one is. The most beautiful family pictures are photo shopped they don’t define people or there lives, neither does money. Lots of people have looks, lots of people have money but everyone has day’s in the shade!