The Quiet Wisdom of Jealousy & Envy

There’s one emotion I used to feel deeply ashamed of, not just because of how it made me feel inside, but because of how we’re taught to see it growing up.

Jealousy. And envy.

From a young age, many of us are told these are “bad” emotions, signs that we’re selfish, insecure, or even cruel, so when you feel it you think you are a "a bad person" right? But what if that’s not the full story?

What if envy doesn’t mean we want someone to fail, but that we admire them? What if we’re not trying to take someone’s place, but simply see something in them that awakens a desire in us? And what if jealousy isn’t about possessiveness or weakness, but rather a fear of being abandoned or forgotten, a wound asking to be seen?

What if we change the narrative around the way we feel.

I used to push these emotions away. I didn’t want to admit they were there. I thought that if I ignored them, they’d disappear. But the truth is: unmet emotions don’t vanish, they evolve. They grow heavier, louder, or transform into anxiety, resentment, or shame.

It took me years to understand that every emotion, even the uncomfortable ones, has something to say. As Mark Brackett teaches in his work on emotional literacy: the more precisely we can name what we feel, the more clearly we can understand what we need. When we develop a rich emotional vocabulary, we not only regulate ourselves better, but we communicate better, connect more deeply, and act with greater clarity.

The Subtle Difference Between Envy and Jealousy

For a long time, I believed I didn’t feel jealousy. I would say, “I don’t know what that feels like.” But over time, I realised I had misunderstood the emotion, and myself.

Envy is when we want something someone else has, a lifestyle, a quality, a success. Jealousy, on the other hand, usually involves a triangle: a fear that something or someone we care about will be taken from us.

I rarely felt envious. In fact, I often felt inspired by people, especially strong, radiant women. I've always been drawn to people who exude a beautiful energy that I wanted to be part of or simply emulate. I've always believed that if someone else could achieve something, then so could I. Maybe not in the exact same way, but with enough effort, care, and alignment, I could build a life that felt just as fulfilling. So when I said "I envy you," like when someone achieves or feels aligned with what they do, I usually meant "I admire you, and I'm happy for you."

However, it happened that it bothered me as well, causing strong and intense emotions that I wasn't pleased with, making me angry and sad. I understood that I was embarrassed to feel that way towards others. Yet, I pushed it aside until it built up to the point where I felt unhappy. Then, I had a wake-up call, observed, accepted, and chose to evolve. It's okay to have certain emotions that you're not proud of or feel ashamed about; it doesn't mean you're a bad person. What matters is your ability to acknowledge and make a difference, as this is how you build resilience.

Jealousy was an emotion I felt intensely, even if I didn't always label it as such. It often emerged in my friendships, particularly in those I valued most, usually with women I deeply admired. When I loved someone, I feared losing them and worried they might love someone else more, abandon me, or that I wasn't enough. Writing this feels daunting and makes me feel vulnerable, but I believe it's crucial to understand that we're not alone in our feelings. I cherish my friends because they are supportive and understanding, and I know why I chose them.

Where My Jealousy Came From

Looking back, I can see why.

My mother left when I was around five or six, though the exact age is unclear. My grandmother raised me and loved me as best as she could, but the foundation of unconditional love was never fully established. As a result, I didn't grow up feeling completely secure in relationships with caregivers. I learned to question love, to pursue it (seeking love from friends), and to fear its absence (becoming a people pleaser out of fear of being abandoned again).

So every time I bonded with a friend who had a nurturing, magnetic, or maternal presence, I would feel simultaneously close and terrified. I longed to be chosen, but deep down, I worried I wasn’t worthy of being kept.

That’s the thing about jealousy, it’s not about the other person. It’s about you. It reflects the parts of you that are still afraid, still healing, still unsure of their place in someone else’s heart.

Making Peace with the Emotion

There was a moment, not long ago, when the jealousy I felt in a friendship started to feel overwhelming. Not because of anything the other person did, but because of what was being stirred up in me.

It felt heavy. Shameful. But instead of lashing out, I took a break. I paused, I reflect on my behaviour. I chose to look inward.

I journaled. I meditated. I gave myself time to explore the emotion, without judging it. And I realised something powerful: I wasn’t a bad friend. I was just a wounded one.

The emotion didn’t mean I was flawed, it meant I was ready to grow.

I didn't directly share my insecurity, my "jealousy," with my friends because I was too vulnerable to articulate it. However, now I understand the importance of honesty. I want to teach my daughter that it's okay to acknowledge her feelings. She can say, "This is hard for me," and still be embraced with love.

If someone shares their vulnerable feelings with you, even if they’re hard to hear, it’s a step toward intimacy, not away from it. When met with care, it becomes a path toward deeper understanding and compassion.

What I Learned from The Courage to Be Disliked

There’s a passage in The Courage to Be Disliked book that resonated deeply with me. The book speaks about how our behavior reflects our beliefs about ourselves, especially when those beliefs are rooted in low self-esteem.

It says that if you don’t confront those internal beliefs, if you don’t believe you’re worthy or capable then the success of others feels threatening, not inspiring. When someone shines, you shrink. You tell yourself, “I could never do that.” And that voice, the one that puts you down, is what gives envy or jealousy the power to hurt you.

But when you begin to heal, your internal dialogue shifts. You see others succeeding, and you think, “That’s beautiful. I can do it too, in my own way, in my own time.” You stop comparing and start connecting.

Today: Owning What I Feel Without Shame

I still feel jealousy, or envy sometimes. But I’m not ashamed of it anymore.

Now, when it shows up, I listen. I explore. I speak to a trusted friend or write in my journal. I remind myself that my emotions are not bad, they’re just data. They help me understand what matters to me and what part of me needs love.

Every time I express an emotion, it loses its power to control me. And every time I name it, I feel closer to myself.

In the End, Every Emotion is Valid

Jealousy. Envy. Fear. Longing. Grief. Joy. Wonder.

Every single emotion carries a message, and when we stop labeling them as “good” or “bad,” we create space for healing.

I’m still learning, especially now as a mother. I’m learning what unconditional love really means. I’m learning how to model emotional expression, not perfection. And I’m learning that emotional literacy is one of the greatest gifts I can pass down.

If you’ve ever felt ashamed of what you feel, know this:

You’re not broken. You’re human.

And every emotion you feel is an invitation to come closer to yourself.

Avec Bienveillance et Compassion

Cecilia.