Envy

Envy is a particularly insidious emotion. It is unlike some of the other grand, dramatic feelings that sweep through our lives (like love, rage, grief). It is weaker quieter, more persistent, capable of settling into the corners of our consciousness for months or even years. 

What makes envy so uncomfortable? It's that we're experiencing negativity specifically because someone else is happy, healthy, or thriving. We're literally feeling bad because others are experiencing good. 

I don't claim to be immune to this feeling, even if I come across as some godly perfect human. But I’m developing some strategies and thoughts for navigating these moments when they arise.

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When It Doubt, Just Blame Social Media

Much of modern envy stems from a perceived sense of inequality, particularly when directed at people we assume are "no different from us." The thought pattern: Why do they have this when I don't? We feel equal to others, so we feel entitled to have what they have. However, many people are quite different from us in terms of circumstances, background, and life path. We shouldn’t even be in a position to feel envious of them. And this is where I, just like everyone else, get to drag Instagram into this. Social media has dramatically expanded our envy landscape. In previous generations, we had a much smaller circle of people we considered peers, and therefore fewer targets for comparison. Instagram changed this entirely, creating the illusion that anyone whose content we can access is somehow our peer. The Danish woman with the perfect morning routine, the Korean couple with the dream vacation, the alien entrepreneur with a Mars business (no, yikes, I'll never envy him). They all feel accessible, relatable, and therefore comparable.

I read once that silver medalists are often the most depressed athletes after the Olympics. They were so close to gold. They could taste it, they "should have" or "could have" won it, but fell just short.

My response has been to create distance. I've deleted Instagram and X from my phone, checking them only once or twice a week when I'm intentionally browsing on my computer. There's value in exposure to inspiring content, but not when inspiration curdles into envy.

Practicing Metta

For people in my actual life, I try a different approach. Instead of avoiding their good news or success, I practice sitting with their happiness. Can I genuinely appreciate that there's more joy in the world that I get to witness? Can I expand my consciousness to include their well-being as something that enriches my own experience?

This practice draws from the Buddhist concept of Metta. Metta involves cultivating genuine goodwill toward others, starting with loved ones and gradually extending to all beings (even your enemies). The practice recognizes that we're interconnected. That others' happiness doesn't diminish our own capacity for joy, but actually contributes to the overall well-being of the world we inhabit.

I have a natural example of this in my relationship with my siblings. I view them as extensions of myself. Literally, as a unit that extends from me. In every second of my life, I have never once felt envy toward them. When they succeed, I feel genuine joy because their well-being is inextricably linked to my own. Their happiness literally feels like my happiness. This is the feeling I try to cultivate toward others: seeing their joy as something that enriches the shared space we all inhabit.

When I can authentically celebrate a friend's success or happiness, my own consciousness becomes a space filled with more joy. I become part of that expanding circle of wellbeing rather than standing outside it, wanting in.

On a side note, I just finished reading Attached. It suggests that one way to develop into a securely attached person is by observing such relationships. So make sure you're around healthy couples (and not envious of them): you can start healing by proxy, and begin noticing those signals in your own life and behavior.

The Problem with "Someone Envies You Too"

People often respond to confessions of envy with: "Remember, there's someone out there who envies your life too." This response is meant to be comforting, but it’s so bad.

This logic relies on the existence of suffering to make us feel better about our own dissatisfaction. It's essentially saying: "Don't feel bad about what you lack, at least you're not the person at the bottom of the hierarchy." But why should others' deprivation be a source of comfort? The idea that someone somewhere is looking at my life with longing and pain doesn't make me feel better. t makes me feel worse. It means there's more unfulfilled yearning in the world, not less.

Life satisfaction is not a pyramid where someone must occupy the bottom rungs for others to feel secure higher up. 

Most importantly, I don't want other people to envy my life. I want them to have their own fulfilling lives. The goal isn't to be the object of someone else's yearning; it's to live in a world where more people have access to the things that bring joy, security, and meaning. It's emotional bypassing disguised as wisdom.

What Is Envy Really Telling Me?

The most productive approach I’ve found is to treat envy as a signal to question my own desires rather than simply suppress the discomfort.

Envy is fundamentally relational. It can’t exist without comparison. It’s rarely about the person we envy. Sometimes it reflects mimetic desires shaped by social conditioning. But other times, it points to something more honest. Sometimes it's a real longing of our own, waiting to be acknowledged.

For example, I'm envious of a friend who owns a house in the countryside, where they always breathe fresh air and gaze at the stars. I envy people with strong safety nets or close relationships with their mothers. 

But when I dig deeper, I realize I'm not actually envious of these people as individuals. I'm craving specific things that I can work towards having:

The house in nature reveals that I value natural beauty and peaceful environments more than I'd consciously acknowledged. This insight has led me to prioritize traveling to nature every few months, even if I can't live there full-time. It made me realize that I don’t want to live in NYC forever. 

The mother relationship envy shows my longing for that particular kind of connection. While I tried and couldn't change my relationship with my own mother, I can cultivate similar bonds with other women like my neighbor Renee, who offers some of that nurturing presence I crave.

The safety net envy points to my desire for security and support, more than the actual money (I want to know I will have someone to catch me if I fall). Rather than simply wishing I had secure parents or family in NYC, I can focus on building community with people who share my values around mutual aid. People who view relationships as genuinely interdependent rather than transactional.

Finding the Hidden Gifts in Our Lacking

Some things we envy will always remain out of reach, no matter how hard we work or how much we want them. In these cases, I try to identify what I might be gaining from the absence of that thing in my life.

I wish I lived in nature or a smaller city, but living in New York means I have access to incredible music concerts, museums, book events, and diverse experiences I wouldn't find elsewhere. 

I wish I were closer to my mother, but that distance has created space for an extraordinarily close relationship with my sister Asmaa, a bond that might not have developed the same way if family dynamics were different.

I wish I had received a formal education like most people. I'd probably be smarter and learn faster now. But because I didn't, 1) I experience some of the first-time awe learning that people have as children as an adult, when I can appreciate those moments more. 2) I'm confident that I'm a true student and seeker. I'm not conditioned by external pressure or social expectations. I'm here in my apartment, cooking thoughts and forming views with rudimentary foundations because I genuinely want to. There's pride in going out of my way to pursue something I wasn't meant to have, and that pride dissolves the envy I might feel toward those who are immersed in academic/intellectual environments.

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And then, sometimes, it’s just about recognizing that life isn’t always fair. We need to sit with a feeling till it passes. Some things suck, and that’s just how it is. But the things that suck feel a lot smaller when we take the time to notice, process, and filter through everything else.