HappyJealousy

What jealousy taught me about loving without limits

Two of my closest friends admitted something to me this week: they sometimes feel jealous reading about my other friendships. At first I was surprised, but then I realized I’ve felt it too. This is what their honesty taught me about love, friendship, and the kind of jealousy that means the bond is real.

Putting my inner world on the internet has been quite the experience. Writing here has given me a deeper understanding of myself and, maybe more surprisingly, a new way of seeing others. It has shifted the lens through which I take in the world, and it has changed how I connect, not just with people who stumble across my words, but also with loved ones who have known me for decades.

Lately I’ve been noticing how sharing my internal life ripples outward in ways I don’t always expect. Yesterday, a close friend sent me a message on Marco Polo, a video app that works like a mix between texting and FaceTime. Her message had me laughing out loud before it had me reflecting.

She was the first person from my “real life” I shared my Substack with, and she reads every morning. Usually she texts her thoughts, but this time she sent a video instead. Her face filled my screen, hair messy, no makeup, speaking straight from the gut. She smiled before she started and then sheepishly confessed: “I have had feelings of jealousy.” She laughed, but I saw the flicker of truth in her eyes. She was talking about the essays I’ve written about other close friendships, and how hard it was to read about me loving other people with the same intensity I love her. She admitted it felt silly, but because we share everything, she wanted me to know.

My body softened as she spoke. My first reaction was tenderness. Her honesty, even about jealousy, only endeared her to me more and reminded me how layered relationships are, even adult friendships.

That thought was still on my mind this morning when another close friend called. She’s someone I usually connect with through humor and shared frustrations. We’ve walked each other through hardship and laughed until we cried; our conversations stretch from the absurd to the profound. We hadn’t talked in weeks, so when I saw her name flash on my screen, I picked up with an enthusiastic hello followed by a heartfelt, “I miss you.”

Her voice brightened instantly. She told me reading my essays makes her feel close to me, but it also reminds her that we need to actually talk. Then, to my surprise, she confessed the same thing my other friend had: that sometimes reading about my other friendships makes her jealous. She said it lightly and with humor, almost as a throwaway, but just as I had with my other friend, I heard the truth in her pause.

Two confessions, a day apart, from friends who don’t know each other, slowed me down. This isn’t a quirk of one friend; it is something to understand. And, more importantly, it is something I relate to.

For me, the feeling of jealousy goes back to middle school. I still remember the sting of my best friend choosing to spend more time with our other best friend. Even now, when my closest friends from graduate school get together without me, I feel that pang. It doesn’t matter if I was invited and couldn’t go, the jealousy runs deep. When three of my friends went to Portugal together and I had to stay behind for family obligations, I named the feeling with humor: “happyjealousy.” Meaning I’m truly glad when the people I love are happy, but I’m jealous that I don’t get to be a part of it.

Taking in the words of my friends, I can see it differently now. I can see it as love.

When I was younger, jealousy in friendship felt shameful. Not anymore. Yes, it can signal insecurity or trouble, but it can also simply reveal how much the bond matters, how much the love matters.

Here’s an essential truth about me: I don’t love easily, but when I do, it’s fierce. And I want each friend to know what they mean to me. The same is true with my children: I want each one to feel like the most loved when I’m with them. And if I’m being honest, I do have a favorite child, and I do have a best friend. They just rotate.

Whoever I’m connected with in a given moment is the one who feels like the favorite. When I am truly with someone, my whole heart is there. And when I think about it, there’s no need for jealousy, because presence doesn’t divide love; it multiplies it. Time with true friends doesn’t drain me. It fills me up and creates more space for love.

This is one of the truths my writing has been teaching me: the well of love I carry is deeper than I realized. I don’t have endless friends, but once you’re in, I have endless love to give. Presence makes people feel loved, and presence, it turns out, doesn’t run out.

Still, jealousy will always be part of relationships. We’ll always want to be someone’s favorite. It is a natural human longing. But the real gift is knowing we’re loved fiercely enough that even jealousy can be spoken aloud and met with tenderness and a laugh.

So if you’ve ever felt jealous in friendship, you’re in good company. It just means the love is real. And the best part? There’s more than enough to go around.