I used to be a really mean, negative person.
I was so unhappy and miserable that it made me angry to see other people happy. I hated watching people have the things I wished I had. Whatever it was, if I felt like I was starving for it, seeing someone else have it made something bitter rise up in me.
And I did not handle that bitterness well.
I’d talk down on people behind their backs. I’d see a social media post and grimace with jealousy, then swipe away without liking it because some broken part of me didn’t want to give their happiness even that tiny bit of support. Sometimes, worst of all, I’d check in on people hoping something bad had happened. Hoping life had knocked them down a little. That they had been dragged closer to my level so I wouldn’t feel so alone down there.
Misery loves company, as they say.
But underneath all that anger and jealousy was pain.
And it was extremely uncomfortable to finally hold a mirror up to myself and realize how ugly-hearted I had become. I was hurting so deeply that I had started mistaking other people’s joy for an attack on my own lack.
Once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.
And I didn’t want to be like that anymore.
That old version of me still tries to resurface sometimes, especially when life gets difficult. It is a conscious choice every single day to choose kindness, forgiveness, and patience when bitterness would be easier.
And sometimes I fail.
Especially when I recognize that same deep pain in another person and they’re aiming it straight at me. Sometimes it feels good to be mean back. It feels good for a second to prove I can hurt them too.
But I don’t think pouring gasoline onto the fire is what this world needs.
I think a lot of us are walking around with pain we don’t know where to put, so we hand it to each other in the only ways we know how. Maybe if we could gently recognize each other’s pain without excusing the damage it causes, we could all finally set some of it down.
At least for a little while.