best cybersex of my life. Why ruin it by hate scrolling through my feed?
But like the social-media-addicted millennial I am, I scroll anyway. Lindsey’s is the first photo that pops up. Her feed is a beautifully curated collection of perfect images of her perfect life with her perfect husband, Palmer. Fabulous trips, fun-filled weekends, bright, sweaty smiles after a #Crossfit workout.
This particular post is a bright, cheery photo of her and Palmer, the two of them smiling on the sun-drenched patio of their beautiful home in Raleigh. My sister is, as always, impeccably put together, from her fashionable balloon-sleeved maxi dress to the stack of Cartier bracelets crowding her arm. She and Palmer are holding up flutes of sparkling wine. They’re clearly celebrating something, and I have a sudden, almost panicky need to know what that something is.
Cheers to my promotion to partner! Ever since I was a little girl, I’d watch my dad come home from a day of work at the law firm bearing his name. For years, I’ve dreamed of following in his footsteps, and as of today, I’ve officially done it! No better way to celebrate than with the dude who makes my heart sing. @PalmerK I wouldn’t have made it without you #BottomsUp #GirlBoss
Hashtag gross. Shit, I knew there had to be a reason she called earlier today. I haven’t had a chance to call her back.
I’m still shaking as I type a quick text to Lindsey, congratulating her. Honestly, I’m glad I missed her call, and that it’s too late to try chatting tonight. I’m happy for my sister. I’m proud of all that she’s accomplished; making partner at a law firm is a big deal. But seeing her hit overachiever milestone after overachiever milestone while I’m over here trading dirty puns with coworkers in an effort to keep my first salaried position is…
Yeah, it’s humbling to say the least.
A sharp-edged ache replaces the yearning in my center.
Envy.
And you know, I used to believe it was an unworthy emotion. But lately, I’ve come to realize that this particular kind of envy can actually be instructive.
It can show me what I want, and what I’m missing.
I don’t want to be on the partner track, and I definitely don’t want Lindsey’s Cartier jewelry.
It’s the success, the stability, the happiness that comes from making a good living doing something I love.
I try hard not to think about what my life would be like if I’d followed a similar path to Lindsey’s. Back in college, we were both pre-law. But a lot changed for me my senior year, and while my mom and dad really wanted me to toe the family line—they’re both attorneys—my heart led me elsewhere.
I don’t regret becoming a sommelier. But I do wish I had more to show for all the hard work I’ve put in over the past ten years.
I do wish I didn’t allow the world to make me feel like a joke as often as I do. I’m a lot less insecure than I used to be, but every so often, I can’t help but think no one would ever give Lindsey the side-eye for her career choice.
I crawl into bed, tired but unable to sleep.
I really, really want to make this job work. Not to compete with or impress my sister, although maybe she’ll finally stop looking at me with that condescending sympathy in her eyes every time I talk about my job.
I want to make it work for me. Because my gut is telling me that this is the one—the dream job that will give me the stability I want and the creative freedom I crave.
For a long time, I thought that was too much to ask. I know how the world works, and I realize how privileged I am to even be considering these goals, much less going after them.
But I figured hey, if I can imagine it, maybe I can make it happen.
So here I am. And unfortunately, I don’t have a boss who believes in me. In fact, I have to prove my worth to him every damn minute of every damn day.
I think about Lindsey again, living in her perfect world. I don’t need perfect. I don’t need to be perfect. But I do have to find success in reaching my goals.
I’ve come this far. And I’m not going to let Samuel Beauregard keep me from making my dreams come true.