“I’m not going to be on time,” he texts. “I need a few more minutes to finish a few things.”
I’m instantly seething.
It’s not that it really matters if he’s 20 minutes later than we planned.
We’re just hanging out at my house. There’s no set end time except for whenever we decide to say goodnight. Nothing much is at stake if he’s late.
But for some reason, I am beyond triggered.
I feel violated, betrayed.
Furious.
Luckily, I’ve done enough self-reflection by now to not get totally fooled by the (very convincing) voice in my head telling me my anger is completely justified:
“I mean, he’s always late! What kind of asshole repeatedly doesn’t keep their time agreements?!? Why do I put up with this shit? Will he ever grow up and get responsible?”
As the voices are swirling in their fury, I work to get a grip on my reactivity.
I head out for a walk to move some energy.
I notice the crunch of the gravel, the mist on my face, the feeling of my feet on the earth.
I notice the sound of my breath and the air moving in and out of my chest and belly.
I intentionally bring my attention into the sensory, the physical, the here-and-now.
The voices still chatter, but the volume softens just a little.
And I start to get curious: What’s really going on here?
The truth is, a lot of things.
This person has been an attachment figure for me, so I’m likely transferring other (parental) relationship dynamics into this present-day connection. (More on that some other time.)
But I get a zap of insight and take a deeper breath as I suddenly see one part of the misery-puzzle.
I’m feeling resenvy.
This is a word I made up in about 2019 to explain a phenomenon I had started to notice more and more.
It’s my best attempt to name and describe the particular mix of resentment, envy, shame, indignation, grief, and disgust that comes when someone else stands for something I didn’t.
When they said No instead of the reluctant, obligation-laced Yes I gave in response to the same request.
When they said Yes to that taboo thing I’ve been longing for but haven’t let myself have.
It’s the highly charged, unpleasant, self-protective emotion that points to where someone else is standing for their values—when we’ve made up a story it’s impossible to stand for ours.
(Often, we may not even SEE our own secret values we’ve abandoned, until the resenvy shows up.)
I think it explains some of why, for example, women raised in a culture that pressured them into having 10 children feel especially furious when someone in their community starts advocating for birth control.
Or slut shaming. Or tearing down the rich.
In this case, with my friend running late, I realized part of my fury was about the hundreds of times I’ve contorted myself and sacrificed and rushed to be “on time,” even when it didn’t really matter.
Mixed in with my reaction to his choices in that moment, I was feeling the pain of all the times I valued timeliness over ease, truth, my own body… the list could go on.
No wonder there was so much energy there.
Seeing the resenvy was powerful. It didn’t make my whole trigger disappear, but like draining a blister, a lot of the pressure left.
I let some big tears move through me as the grief of my pattern of override landed in my heart.
And when my friend finally did arrive, I was able to share what I’d seen in myself from a place with less blame or disconnection than I might have had otherwise.
I see resenvy show up in myself and others often.
I know having a label for something lets me put a handle on it, move it around, separate from it.
It gives me power where before I felt helpless.
So I’m sharing the term, and I hope you’ll start to use it—or at least keep an eye out for it in yourself.
And when you find it, would you be willing to accept yourself for being exactly where you are?
Tenderly yours,
Rachel
PS – Grounding in the body, naming emotions, sorting through the sources of our triggers—this is the type of work I do with my clients every day. Why? Because with awareness comes choice. Because your most potent, soulful desires are hiding underneath the leaf litter of your unfelt contractions and fears. If you feel stuck, numb, or dissatisfied about the good-on-paper life you’ve ended up in, DM me for a free 75-min consultation. Because what the world needs most is people who are truly, fully alive—even to discomfort.
