Have you ever looked at someone and just thought 'I want their life!'. And have you ever managed to have that thought without it being directly followed by something along the lines of 'It's not fair!' or 'Ungrateful so-and-so' or 'Bet she has cellulite, ha!' I have to admit that when it comes to the syndrome of the grass being greener over the fence, 'monster' is sometimes a mild term to describe the spirit of the girl looking on behind these hazel eyes. However, it's interesting to note that, conversely, when I'm on what is perceived to be the lush and lively side of the fence, and can sense a jibe or a vibe coming my way from 'next door', sometimes I find myself acting like something of a monster as well.
Of course I know that in both situations I have to rein myself in, but it's interesting to look at the way we act and react when things are looking pretty in our back yard, and what an impact this can have on friendships and peace of mind. To give a mild example: as a teacher-type person I get a sickening, disgustingly good amount of holidays. So when it comes up to times like Christmas, Easter and summer, I have to start to prepare myself for some indirect bristlings and even some direct attacks, sometimes very thinly and unconvincingly disguised as banterous sparring. Because I know this to be the case, I try not to boast too much about the length of my hols and to only disclose the amount of time I'm off for when probed. Through trial and error I've learned that a defensive bark about how 'I've earned it!' is generally not going to go down very well, and that is of course because most people also work extremely hard and deserve a very long break. So I have learned not to do this, and that to smile and graciously say something about how it seems unfair and we all work hard usually has a much more placating effect. Similarly to say 'Well we all sat at the same crossroads with the careers advisor and you chose to take a different route' is not going to be that helpful or endearing either, I've learned, especially if the person didn't have the opportunity to go to university or have parental support and funding.
Even though I believe in my heart of hearts that it is unfair that I should get such a generous helping of leisure time while others struggle on equally tired, why is it that I always have to make a conscious effort to quell my initial instinct to make a jibe back, when I know they are already feeling the unfairness of the situation? Is it because jealously is an ugly weed that I want to yank from my pretty yard because it's spoiling my lovely flowerbeds, or is it deeper than that? Why does it make us so uncomfortable when we can sense people looking on us with envy? I'm using the very mild and neutral example of holidays but there are a whole lot more deeply personal and heart-wrenchingly, soul-tramplingly painful examples out there, from both sides of the fence. Does it make us panic because we fear we don't have a 'get-out clause' when we mess up because others are thinking we have it easy? Is it because we don't get to indulge in a 'poor me' moment without feeling extremely guilty and ungrateful? Or perhaps it's because we crave the approval of others and know this is removed when others are looking on us with scorn, or not-so-secretly hoping for us to mess up. And sometimes it could be because we keenly feel the pain of the other person and we know there is nothing we can do about it, and we know that the joy of our green grass is exacerbating their pain by the mere fact that it is existing, growing and thriving, but we wouldn't, couldn't, and indeed shouldn't give it up for the mere reason that someone looking on is longing for growth but choking on deadly weeds. And maybe the helplessness caused by this feeling, and the fact that we care deeply for the other person, can cause us to snap at them, or try to minimise their pain, or give them a pep talk out of it, or try to stick a band aid on it, or worse, start avoiding them and the negativity they can bring into our lives.
Obviously we've all been on both sides of the fence, often in multiple ways at the same moment, sometimes in ways we don't even realise. Someone said to me recently about how they find Mother's Day so painful and also every time they see someone out walking around the shops with their mum on an ordinary Saturday, they feel such a stab of pain and envy, and sense of loss. This is something I hadn't even realised, and obviously take so much for granted, and something that some others would give their right arm to still be able to enjoy. By contrast, from the other side of the fence, I have to keep reminding myself that people's lives aren't perfect just because they're in love or have a massive home or lots of babies. I have found that it is useful -although not always easy, or natural- to apply how helpless I feel when others look at me with jealousy about other aspects of my life, and then to try and remember that the people I envy have not supped a magic potion of happiness and perfection, they still struggle with the difficulties of life, and often even more so because of what they have received. This enables a positive cycle to continue, as sometimes a lack of communication can feed the myth that the other person's life is sickeningly perfect and a bed of thorn-free roses. This is the beauty of community, and it's sad that barriers can be put up in so many directions between people who really need each other to point out the good things in each other's lives, and to share the pricks from the thorns, or stings from the nettles.
I heard a saying once, I think it was by someone like Woody Allen, and it goes something like 'Some days you're the statue, and other days you're the bird.' It's good to remember this, and whether we seem to be thriving, or want to curl up and die, or anything in between, to realise that how we interact with others in these circumstances, can have the power to make or break important friendships, friendships we may desperately need for all the changing times in our kaleidoscopic lives as we oscillate between vibrant green and sun-withered brown grass. And if our inner monster needs an occasional outlet, I guess there's always Heat magazine's 'What were you thinking' or 'Stars without make up' to give us a sneaky cackle over the fence.
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