A word we use so lightly yet it’s power is immeasurable. Where does it come from? What is at the heart of the green-eyed monster? Psychologists will tell you it’s fear of loss. Fear of losing something or someone you hold dear. And whilst I agree with that, it’s a hell of a lot more complex in reality. We can all imagine the fear of losing someone romantically; when we ‘tip over’ into the muddy waters of ‘love’ it can feel like we begin to lose control. The object of our affection is now literally ‘holding the reigns’; they are responsible for our happiness. Or at least that’s how it feels. It’s all well and good to think we can feel utter adoration for another then not worry about that ending. For the draw of ‘being in love’ is akin, I would imagine, to being on drugs. A heady cocktail of extreme pleasure; mini surges of fear topped up with adrenalin and the fantastical notion that you’re both somehow different to all those other couples, ‘special’ and Disney of course completely hammered this fucker down from a very young age. The feeling you get from being with that person; the clichéd gut-wrenching excitement upon which we layer our shared, special moments. Your song, your favourite place, drink, where you met, first kiss, holiday; these highly emotive snapshots in time that feel indelibly ingrained into your mind. It’s you and he against the world; nobody can come between you as you build the walls of exclusivity around you and can never imagine feeling that way about anyone ever again. Soul mates, twin-flames; ‘we were meant to be’, a myriad of romantic tales interwoven with heroes and heroines and happy ever afters. The reality of which are of course, completely impossible to maintain.
So before anyone kicks off with me, let me say that ‘generally’ women are worse at this bit than men. Yes, yes there are plenty of exceptions to the rules but that’s why I used the word ‘generally’. You see once we have ‘tipped over’ we suddenly find ourselves playing this comparative game, viewing those we surmise are somehow ‘better’ than us, and allowing anxiety to batter down our self-esteem before the object of our lust has even clocked the ‘slut’. Which of course she is not; well not usually, but whilst we are in ‘fear’ mode any woman with thicker hair, whiter teeth, bigger boobs or career power can suddenly reduce us to a smear of brown on an Espadrille. We do this to ourselves; we allow it to happen for it is our doing! All our own bloody fault that whilst ‘blinded by love’, to excuse ourselves just a little, we make a villain out of a stranger whilst turning our inner-angst up to 10. It’s as though we’ve got to spend our whole time mentally dissecting each and every situation, with the misguided notion that we can somehow prevent the loss we fear so dramatically. Now whilst I speak from a position of authority it’s still a pointless, damaging and time-wasting game I gave up many years ago. But I can still remember it’s potency like it were yesterday.
Perhaps for us to be safe we need to love slightly less than our mate? Maybe that’s it; whoever loves the deepest, fears the loss the most, it is them that must play the role of ‘dragon slayer’. Whilst unwittingly smashing down the walls of love, respect and potential you and your mate had taken such joy in building. So there it is; jealousy in all it’s putrid glory, a festering emotion of self-destruction, soul-butchery and time-squandering. Those partaking will disempower themselves by default, will project negativity and hatred onto innocents and literally destroy the one thing they covet and profess to love. Don’t waste your time. Take yourself in hand; procrastinate before you act, listen to your gut instinct it will rarely guide you wrong and love yourself above all others. Make the relationship with yourself healthy before attempting to join forces with another and if you don’t feel loved…move on.
The green-eyed monster is the only malevolence you should be endeavouring to assassinate.