In my lifetime, I’ve survived much pain that was deliberately inflicted upon me. As a child, I served as whipping boy to bitter adults, as a young wife, I played scapegoat to an ineffectual spouse, and in my career, I’ve been the subject of some malicious scrutiny by a few jealous colleagues and frenemies.
Believe it or not, those are the people I have to thank for my eventual success. Because not only have I survived their maliciousness, I’ve thrived. And I confess that part of the reason I’ve done so has been not only for my own benefit, but out of sheer spite.
There is something so incredibly gratifying about refusing to be in pain, refusing to be unfulfilled, refusing to be unsuccessful, when others around you are so hoping that that is precisely what you’ll be. My achievements, the gratifying life I now live, the love that I now have and share with others, are due in part to those who’d hoped so desperately to see me fail at these.
And here’s what those who focus with envy on the lives of others, or place blame for their unhappiness on others, have in common: It’s not that they’re so passionately interested in the life of the person they’re focused on, it’s that they’re not passionately enough interested in their own. Envy, bitterness, dissatisfaction, is easy. Happiness is so much harder. It requires more effort than being miserable. It requires more sacrifices of comfort. It requires more bravery. It requires more failures.
Think about it— how much easier is it to watch the highlight reels of someone else’s life, to assume that they have more “luck” than you, rather than to go out and make your own luck? How much easier is it to experience schadenfreude over someone else’s failures and mistakes, then to work to make one’s own life so satisfactory that you hardly notice what others do or don’t do, have or don’t have?
My happiness took a lot of effort to achieve and takes a lot of motivation to maintain. That’s why I’m glad for those who really and truly wished me ill. They gave me that extra impetus I needed to make myself happy.
So, to those people — the so-called “family,” the so-called “friends,” the so-called “lovers” of my past, I say, thank you. By all means, please continue to focus on my life instead of your own. Please continue to despise me. For the reason that, so far, it’s been surprisingly inspiring.
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