Thief of Peace

Jealousy is the thief of peace. I’ve been on both sides of it, and I can’t recommend either. It twists your thinking into the most illogical of pretzels, and makes us behave badly – to ourselves and others. I used to throw tantrums when I caught my (alcoholic, abusive) boyfriend eyeing other women. Man. I should have walked up to them and said, “Please, take him off my hands.”

I’m always surprised to be the recipient of jealous behavior. “You have frog eyes,” said a cousin once. Another time actor Shelby Chong commented on my born-with-it-beauty-mark, calling it a zit. And in the sailing community, a few of the wives and girlfriends definitely do not like “their” men talking to me. “You’re not a sailor. You’re not a captain,” wrote a woman who claimed to teach and support women sailors, then threatened to blackball me. She had recommended a man to teach me because she was busy, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t know he was her boyfriend. “You can flash me,” he said after a swim when I almost lost my towel. No thanks.

“Don’t compare your insides with other people’s outsides,” my acting coach used to say. That’s one of the reasons I love nature. All that silliness falls away. Other species don’t covet my hair or hips; they mostly want to be left alone.  

Can I remember that I am not responsible for others’ behavior? Oh, but I so hated having a jealous mother. I tried to make myself small so she would love me again, her girl, her first-born. But that didn’t serve either of us.

These days I no longer try to put the jealous person at ease. I simply walk away, sad that we can’t be friends. At night I stretch out in my single bed and sigh with relief. I have plenty. And so do you.