Dear
Viny,
I've
been married for fifteen years and our marriage has been open for
five years. Our foray into polyamory got off to a rocky start, but
things smoothed out, and I felt that everything was going along
swimmingly for the last 3 or 4 years. The last few months, neither of
us have had very active dating lives, and we were kind of relishing
being an “old married couple” again. Then, thunder struck. My
husband met someone and went from 0 to 60 in no time flat (well,
really, it was a couple of weeks, but it felt crazy whirlwind to me).
I had a really hard time because a lot of the particular details
echoed that rocky time when we were first opening up, which nearly
ended our marriage. In dealing with things, naturally I sought the
council and succor of friends. Some people started talking to me
about “dealing with jealousy” – and I have to admit I started
to bristle! I'm not jealous! I'm *way* past Poly 101! I'm feeling
neglected, forgotten, disregarded. I'm feeling a fear of abandonment.
I'm feeling the deep pain of personal insecurities that are only
reinforced by the amazingness of this new person. I'm feeling bad
that I feel bad! Where's that compersion I'm supposed to be feeling?
So, what are your thoughts on the word "jealous"? Am I
feeling jealous? Am I just playing with semantics?
-
Concerned Linguist
***
Dear
Concerned,
You
may have heard that Eskimos have at least fifty words for snow. As it
turns out, this is a matter of some debate: apparently the
Eskimo-Aleut languages use suffixes to form new words, which means
they can create new vocabulary to describe all kinds of phenomena,
not just snow, using a relatively small number of root words. I wish
I had recourse to their method of enlarging the lexicon. It's always
seemed absurd to me that we're stuck with one piddly little word to
describe the various complex blends of different emotions that
comprise jealousy: fear, anxiety, anger, sadness, envy, excitement,
loneliness, dread, desperation, and generalized “blah”.
I
think we should have a word for the kind of jealousy that keeps a
person up at night with heart palpitations, and another word for the
kind of jealousy that leads one to re-activate one's OKCupid account
in search of external validation, and yet another word for the kind
of jealousy that's like being the only inhabitant of a drafty old
castle on a drab, wintery hilltop.
However,
lacking any better options, I've always just gone with “jealous”
whenever I experience some kind of negativity related to someone
other than myself getting something I value from someone I love. Yes,
it's a wholly inadequate word, but that doesn't mean it's inaccurate.
Although there are many different types of
frozen-white-stuff-from-the-sky, from powder to slush to snirt (did
you know snirt was a
thing?), it's all snow,
if you catch my drift (sorry – couldn't resist). So
I wonder what it is about the word “jealous” that bothers you so
much.
You
assert that you are “way past Poly 101” – could it be that you
have spent the last three or four years patting yourself on the back
for how well you've learned your lessons, pitying the poor saps who
are still stuttering over their ABC's? If so, I have some good news:
when your friends talk to you about dealing with jealousy, they
aren't judging you. They aren't saying you belong in the remedial
“How to Share with Others” class. They're trying to help you deal
with an emotion that's as common as snow in Alaska.
No, I'm not overstating the case. Jealousy is very, very common. It
is the feeling that arises when you compare yourself to someone else – including a
past version of yourself, or an idealized future version – and find
your present self...lacking.
And
that's what you're doing to yourself right now. You're comparing
yourself to your husband's amazing new person, and feeling
inadequate. You're comparing yourself to the un-jealous,
got-it-together girl you were (or thought you were) a few months ago,
and feeling disgusted by how quickly she unraveled. You're comparing
yourself to the wise woman you want to be, and feeling despondent.
I've
changed your words, I realize. Your actual words were “neglected,”
“forgotten,” and “disregarded.” Past participles of
transitive verbs. Which begs the question: Who is
neglecting you? Who has
forgotten you? Whose regard
for you has lessened? I'm sure you could make a case for why your
husband belongs in the subject position here. And yes, absolutely,
you have every right to demand better treatment from him if he has
caused, or contributed to, your present distress by being
insensitive, or thoughtless, or impatient, or whatever. But I suspect
that nothing he could do differently (short of not having
fallen in love with this
particular person, in this particular way, at this particular time)
will make you feel much better, unless you can take responsibility
for your jealousy.
Taking
responsibility for a negative emotion does not mean blaming
yourself for feeling bad. It
means acknowledging the ways in which you are habitually unkind to
yourself, and getting to work on loving yourself better.
Loving
yourself well is the only cure for what ails you. No one else's love
can penetrate your self-protective wall, the one you've built to hide
your small, stupid self: the self who doesn't measure up, the self
who doesn't know what to do, the self who is afraid she'll never be
good enough. She is desperate for love right now, and only you can
reach her.
Please give her a big hug. Do it right now: just wrap your arms
around yourself, and squeeze. Then do it again. For me, and for
everyone else who cares about you.
Squalls and Flurries,
Viny
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