Jealousy, I've often heard, is a normal human emotion. When I hear that, I think, "maybe your jealousy-- not mine." My jealousy roars in the head, tightens the chest, massages my stomach lining with a cold fist as it searches out the best grip. I have long regarded jealousy as my greatest weakness. Only recently have I seen it for the tough-love friend that it is.
Jealousy is a map. Each of our jealousy maps differs. Each of us will probably be surprised by some of the things we discover on our own. I, for example, have never been eaten alive over the success of women novelists. But I took an unhealthy interest in the fortunes-- and misfortunes-- of women playwrights. I was their harshest critic... until I wrote my first play.
With that action, my jealousy vanished, replaced by a feeling of camaraderie. My jealousy had actually been a mask for my fear of doing something I really wanted to do, but was not yet brave enough to take action toward.
Jealousy is always a mask for fear.