Jealousy is such an ugly word isn’t it? And one that no one likes to be associated with, but let’s break it down. Jealousy is a combination of emotions. It’s a mix fear, anger and anxiety. So yea, I get jealous all the time. The trick is to understand your jealousy by figuring out what it is you are afraid of. Once you know that, you can work your way out. Children don’t have to ability to rationalize in this way so when they become jealous, they throw tantrums, cry, and get angry. And since they lack the capacity to rationalize, Jealousy (fear, anger, anxiety) becomes part of how they move through life all the way into adulthood.

My father’s mother is somewhat of a wealthy woman. Maybe not by American standards, but in her country. She owns many acres of land, has employees who tend to the crops and owns many farm animals. It’s a pretty cool place…or so I hear. I never got to go. My sisters would go often and they’d tell me all these stories about grandma and the animals that lived there. I’d never considered having another grandmother, mine was all I needed. But the way they spoke of her, made me sad. It was yet another person who should’ve loved me but made no efforts to even get to know me.

I’m old enough to know now that because I was the product of my father’s infidelity, I wasn’t welcomed. But as a kid, that concept was too abstract to grasp. I wasn’t seen as a member of the family. That’s all I knew. My sisters would get Christmas cards from them all the time, and it did make me a little jealous.

One Christmas, my “grandmother” came for a visit. I was pleasantly surprised to see that she acknowledged me seeing as her son never did. She was actually a nice lady. She cooked me breakfast and ate with me which was not really common in my house. I usually cooked myself breakfast and ate it in the living room while my sisters had breakfast with Tina. I felt like we had bonded enough for her to care that I existed, but I guess I was wrong.

When she left back home, she sent a Christmas package. In it, were stuffed animals that resembled her farm animals. Tina read the letter outloud. It said that the stuffed animals were small versions of the real animals she had just purchased. Two piglets and two horses. She said they would belong to my sisters. They could name them and visit them whenever. I didn’t get anything not even a mention on the card. I was jealous for sure. That lady could’ve gifted me a stray cat for all I cared. It wasn’t about the gift, it was the fact that I didn’t matter enough for her to bother remembering me.

I hate my family. I hate them because they hate me.