professional envy

on turning it into something better

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

How do you turn envy into something softer — how do you hold it without it tightening its grip? I sat with this feeling all week. I held onto it, turning it over in my hands like a rough stone, wondering what I would do. I’m an emotional person. I feel things deeply, harshly, quickly, and all at once. It’s overwhelming and incredible at the same time.

I’m self-aware enough to know that I’m a jealous person. I demand a lot of myself when I see what others have achieved and strive to push myself to improve, which can be both a blessing and a curse.

But I wonder if envy isn’t always the monster we paint it to be. It’s easy to feel small when faced with an endless scroll of other people’s successes. But I’ve started to think about this kind of envy differently. If envy is a signal, then maybe the internet is just amplifying the signal, making it impossible to ignore. And maybe that’s not entirely bad. If I can look past the shine and polish, the agitation and anxiety, I can see what’s being reflected in me — not just the life someone else is living but the life I want to create.

There’s a big rhetoric around not letting modern capitalist society drive you to the point of extremity, resulting in a weird counter-reaction that favours laxity and bed rotting. But I would argue that life deserves to be hungered for. I used to resist envy, to shrink away from it as if it were a thing to fear. Now, I wonder if it’s a door — an invitation to step into myself more fully. What if envy isn’t about scarcity but about clarity? What if it’s less about comparison and more about recognition: This matters to you. This moves you. This is worth pursuing.

Envy, if that’s what it is, keeps us alive. Keeps us striving. That’s not to say it’s without fault, as with anything there is a limit and a fine line to dance upon, but if you find it, we can like who we are now while striving to fulfil other dreams.

And so, I’m learning to envy with care. I try to envy not out of bitterness but out of wonder — wonder at what could be possible for me and for the life I’m shaping. I envy the woman I imagine myself becoming, someone who moves through the world with quiet confidence and unshakable joy. She feels no guilt for indulging in what makes her happy; she simply lets herself live.

Envy doesn’t always stem from a desire for materialistic needs, often, it’s the quiet realisation of what’s absent. Whether this feeling is justified or not is often dependent on the goal we seek. I’ve found that it highlights the gaps in my world, the spaces I’ve yet to fill or even fully understand.

I have often wondered if the key lies in finding joy in what’s already here — in recognising the value of my present self. Still, I can’t shake the idea that longing has its purpose. It’s not something to be snuffed out but something to be noticed, a reminder that I’m still striving, still evolving. That ache, however uncomfortable, is a sign of life’s momentum.

I think there’s room for both perspectives: to deeply appreciate what I hold now while leaving space for the dreams that pull me toward what could be.

If I’m going to envy, I want to do it with intention. I want to let it guide me, not consume me. I want it to push me toward a life that feels full, that feels mine. I want to look at what stirs my heart and use it as fuel, as inspiration to keep building, to keep moving forward.

One day, I hope to look back at this version of myself and smile — not because I have everything I longed for, but because I allowed myself to long at all. And when that day comes, I hope I’ll whisper, thank you for being brave enough to keep wanting, to keep creating, to keep going.

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