You can spend less time feeling less-than

Lesson #5 of 40

As I approach 40, I’m embarking on a year-long project to reflect on the lessons I’ve learned in four decades of life. This is lesson #5. You can read the full series here.

Sometimes things get tangled. (Photo courtesy Getty Images)

When my friend Becca told me she was pregnant with her second child, I cried.

They weren’t happy tears. They were surprised and frustrated tears. They were bitter tears. They sprung up as quickly as my mind raced to an uncharitable thought: Why do you get good things and I don’t?

Becca is the same person who edits this newsletter. She’s someone I’ve known and loved since college. She’s been by my side through the good times and bad; when other friends disappeared after Jamie’s death, Becca took their place, making sure I felt supported, loved, and heard through all my pain. She is wonderful and her news was wonderful — and I hated reacting the way I did.

This happened in February 2018, one week after the one-year anniversary of my husband’s death. I was in town, having recently embarked on my sabbatical from work, and Becca and I had planned one of our favorite activities: crafting while catching up, usually over drinks.

But when I offered Becca a mimosa, she said no; she was pregnant. And I burst into tears.

It’s okay to feel bad — left behind, less-than, or a little bit left out — when someone you know shares good news. It’s natural to compare your situation with someone else’s. We all know that comparison is the thief of joy — still, we can’t help but compare. 

That was going to be today’s lesson: It’s okay to feel bad when a friend experiences good news. It was a surface-level permission slip. Don’t feel bad! It’s human nature. It is a-okay.

As I started to write and think through today’s essay, though, this idea didn’t sit right with me. Is that really all the wisdom I have to impart? Of course it’s okay to feel bad. But what do you do with those complicated feelings? Is there a way to move beyond feeling less-than? Is it possible to legitimately be happy for your good-news friend and not compare your own experience?

This is the deeper lesson to explore. 

I wish I could say that Becca’s pregnancy announcement marked the only time I felt down in response to a friend’s good news. It’s not. I have felt this way, many times, with real-life friends and online acquaintances. I’ve congratulated colleagues and later cried in a bathroom stall. I’ve celebrated friends’ successes while secretly beating myself up for not having more to celebrate. I’ve pressed the heart button on joyful social media announcements while my own heart hurt.

The difference that morning with Becca is that I didn’t hide my pain. Before I had a chance to compose my face into a smile, it crumpled into tears.

My reaction was embarrassing. But it’s where I was at during that very raw moment in my life. I cried at everything those days! What’s notable is that not following the script — not pretending to be happy when I was feeling sad inside — led to a meaningful moment.

I apologized to Becca for my tears. She apologized for blurting out her news. We both cried together. We talked about how complicated these lopsided times can be, when one friend’s joy meets another friend’s sadness. We talked about how both things can be true: that we could be simultaneously happy for her baby-to-be and sad for the family I would never have with Jamie. We held both those truths and we held each other.

By that point in our friendship, Becca and I had been through a lot. I’m not sure if that morning changed anything between us, but it did cement our bond even more. Friendships and feelings can be complicated, and being able to openly talk about those complications is a true gift.

It’s true that comparison is the thief of joy. Comparing ourselves is also human nature. Comparison happens — and it sucks.

I’m largely off social media these days because I was tired of all the joy-stealing. A simple mindless scroll could instantly sour my mood. A colleague’s announcement about a new job would make me wonder when I last achieved something worthy of sharing. An acquaintance’s vacation reel would leave me feeling stuck at home. An influencer’s glamorized day-in-the-life would make me question my own unglamorous day.

I didn’t like feeling that way, so I stopped consuming that content. I unfollowed accounts that regularly made me feel less-than. Eventually, I weaned myself off of Instagram and Facebook binges altogether. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s drastically improved my sense of well-being.

But things are more complicated in real life. I don’t want to turn away from my friends. I want to celebrate them! I want to learn from them. I want to grow alongside them.

Feeling left behind, less-than, or a little bit left out when a friend shares good news doesn’t make you a bad person. But holding onto those feelings can hurt you. And if you hold onto them for too long, it can hurt your friendship, too.

These days, when I feel envious or less-than in response to someone else’s good news, I try to interrogate those feelings. What is it about this news that’s making me feel so bad? Chances are, it’s not my friend that I’m upset with — it’s frustration about my own situation.

Once I’ve identified my source of frustration, I consider what I can do with that information. Maybe it’s the push I need to commit to the book I’ve been dreaming of. Perhaps it’s a nudge to have a deeper heart-to-heart with my friend. Maybe it’s a signal that I’m simply tired and need to rest. (I can’t tell you how many times I land on that last one.)

You can acknowledge and accept your feelings and get curious about them. You can also let them go. Holding onto our feelings, unhappy or otherwise, gets us nowhere.

Doing this requires a change in mindset. It’s the difference between thinking “why not me?” and gently asking yourself, “why is this news bringing up these feelings for me?” It’s a shift from being self-centered to being centered in yourself. It’s permission to set aside your ego and give yourself space to be genuinely happy for your friend in their happy moment.

It’s less time feeling less-than. And that feels damn good.

Not long after Becca shared her happy news with me, I began to experience my own happiness. I went on lots of travels and lots of dates. I fell in love. I started this newsletter. I officially went freelance.

I struggled with the right way to share this happy news with others. Every time I did announce something exciting, it was with a caveat. I went on a beautiful trip, but it was lonely traveling alone. I met someone new, but I’ll always miss Jamie. I am happy, but that doesn’t mean I’m done grieving. I was painfully aware of how alienating hearing someone’s positive news can be, and I didn’t want to make anyone else feel bad.

Truth be told, this is still a major struggle for me.

I can’t control how someone will react to my good news. It’s not possible to manage others’ reactions — nor healthy to try to. I can acknowledge how my happy news might land, especially for someone who’s going through a particularly hard time. (

Catherine Andrews

did this recently, and it was very thoughtful.) I can try to hold space for complicated feelings.

Addressing and working through discomfort strengthens relationships. Doing that is always better than holding onto feelings of insecurity or resentment — no matter how hard it may be.

Two years after that tear-filled crafting date, Becca was the first friend I called when I had my own exciting news to share: I was pregnant. Now, we trade stories about our children and talk wistfully about the time in our lives when we were child-free. We celebrate each other’s wins. We share our highlights and lowlights. And we make room for all the complicated feelings that come up.

xoxo
KHG