I decided today not to be jealous anymore.  Just like that.  I’m not doing myself any favors walking around, talking of childhood wounds or my scary past.  I’ve carried out this me I no longer want to be, this woman threatened by other women.  I’m not a jealous person.  There.  As good as done.

I was afraid if I was okay with his wanting to spend time with another attractive woman or unattractive but talented or unattractive and untalented but fiercely intelligent woman (notice I didn’t mention funny because men never really look for a funny woman, even if they say they do), then, because I was okay with it, I feared.  I feared he’d take advantage of that, feared something might happen, really feared he’d enjoy her more than he enjoyed me, or would think or wish I were more like she was, smarter, prettier, more shapely, more of what I wasn’t or wouldn’t be. 

That’s living in fear and controlling, and I’ve already learned.  I can’t hold on that tight, can’t make things more mine except for me.

So each day, beginning today, I’m going to be aware of my choices, ask why I’m making them.  I will allow someone else to tell me how I’ve hurt them, how what I did made them feel.  I will listen and allow instead of stifle and control and be right because that’s controlling and trying to convince someone of something.  Everyone feels betrayed.  It’s good enough if I know what’s going on.  So, I’m not jealous anymore.  It will be hard to hear he’s seeing her, but the minute I face the fear is the minute I grow and stop living in chaos.  I need to be this way because my inner self says so.  It’s my time to change this part of me, as scary as it is.  Living for the rest of my life, afraid, is far more frightening.

The worst part is when he gives me recognition for it.  When he says, “I know that was really hard–” before he finishes and gets to, “for you,” I begin to cry.  Because then it’s no longer just my promise to me.  Now he knows how hard it is for me, and that’s embarrassing, admitting I don’t like something about myself.  Much bigger than the new stomach roll I found today, or the way when he asked, why don’t you wear those jeans anymore, I wanted to answer, because they no longer fit!  They’re too small!  Far more embarrassing though is admitting I don’t like my insecurity and that I’m working on changing that.  Because then he says he’s proud of me.  But, I’m not doing this for you!  This is my decision and it’s private.  It’s like not wanting to tell anyone you’re on a diet because it reveals you’re unhappy with the way you are and gives someone else the opportunity to assess and weigh in on your weight issue.  It means there’s someone watching your progress.  I’d rather wake up one day and overhear him tell a friend, “you know Stephanie is so confident in herself that she no longer gets jealous.  She no longer digs her heels in, afraid of giving up her power.”  That’s who I want to be, for me.