I Was The Jealous Friend. Here’s How I Moved On From Being A Hater

“There is only one me, and it makes no sense to spend the rest of my life angry at myself and jealous of others.”

I am not proud of myself for saying this, but it needs to be said: I have hurt a lot of women.

Many of my friendships died because I couldn’t help but be a vessel of anger, hate, and envy. I was mean as hell. No one wanted to be around me, and I don’t blame them.

I constantly compared myself to the women around me. I felt like I didn’t measure up. And I was always trying to be like them. There was a darkness inside of me that couldn’t be happy for anyone. I was miserable, and that misery killed any potential for me to get close to anyone. I couldn’t cultivate any meaningful connections with some amazing, intelligent women.

I am embarrassed to admit how jealous I was of my friends. It seemed like everyone was doing so much better than me. Every woman was so beautiful and talented, and I felt like an ugly, hot mess.

What changed?

It took many years of shadow work, but I learned to embrace myself and my quirks. There is only one me, and it makes no sense to spend the rest of my life angry at myself and jealous of others. If my friends can accept me as I am, why can’t I? After all, there is nothing I can do to imitate these women. All I can be is the best damn version of myself. My life and journey is my own.