Shifting from Envy to Appreciation

Transforming Not-Enoughness into a Life of Freedom and Connection

From the depths of the pandemic to earlier this year, opening Twitter (I refuse to call it X) felt like wading into a deluge of polished personas and manufactured mastery. A tightening in my solar plexus, a constriction in my gut, visceral discomfort triggered by yet another endless tweet thread brimming with unsolicited advice. There were revenue graphs scaling ever upward, follower counts multiplying overnight, and self-assured entrepreneurs triumphantly “building in public.”

It felt like everyone had become an expert: tech founders and pundits dissecting the market with surgical precision, influencers distilling life lessons into 280 characters, and twenty-somethings with barely a decade of adulthood loudly broadcasting their wisdom and keys to success. Their confidence was perplexing—and unsettling.

For a decade, I had deeply loved Twitter. It was where I shared ideas, built meaningful friendships, discovered new perspectives and startups, and even landed my first VC job. I thrived on the energy, the exchange of ideas, the fast pace of connection. It was the watercooler for the startup ecosystem, a constant buzz of possibility and discovery that felt endlessly exhilarating—until it wasn’t.

But somewhere along the way—during the depths of the pandemic and the middle of my transition to a slower, more intentional life—something shifted. It all began to feel...unbearable.

What had once been a vibrant community of ideas and connection now felt like an arena for influence, fame, and validation. Scores of influencers, coaches, and creators seemed to come out of the woodwork, gaming the algorithms, spewing advice, and grandstanding with their wins. Their follower counts exploded from zero to hundreds of thousands overnight, while the spirit of genuine interaction was replaced by performative ambition.

What had once inspired me now felt like a trigger, amplifying my own resentment, self-doubt, and not-enoughness. Each post seemed to shout, Look how much I’ve done. Look at how much I know. Look how far I’ve come. And all I could hear in response was my own quiet insecurity whispering, Why aren’t you doing more? Why are you holding back? Why aren’t you enough?

These feelings persisted long enough that I knew it was time to walk away. Slowly, I began to pull back from Twitter—skipping a day here, avoiding a post there—until, eventually, I stopped engaging altogether and quit social media. I couldn’t bear the constant reminder of what I wasn’t doing, who I thought I should be, or the sense of wasted opportunities slipping through my fingers. 

At first, I thought this allergy was a side effect of my transition—a natural byproduct of slowing down and letting go of my relentless ambition. I had expected this shift to bring clarity and lightness, not this heavy undercurrent of discomfort. But as the years passed and I sat with these feelings—this heaviness, this withdrawal—I began to notice something deeper at play.

It wasn’t just frustration or burnout. It was something more insidious: envy, quietly lurking beneath the surface, wrapping itself around my thoughts and feeding my sense of inadequacy. Slowing down hadn’t caused these feelings—it had exposed them. Envy had been slowly eating away at me, siphoning my energy and distorting the way I saw myself—and others.

The Corrosive Power of Envy

Envy is a complex and often misunderstood emotion, especially for high performers. It can feel like a quiet, persistent discomfort, rooted in the belief that we don’t measure up to others. But it’s not just self-doubt or the ache of not-enoughness—it’s often tangled with resentment and irritation, emotions that simmer beneath the surface and catch us off guard. For those of us who tie our identity to achievements—or who fear scarcity, seek external validation, or strive for perfection—envy can strike at the heart of who we think we are, distorting how we see ourselves and those around us.

At its core, envy thrives on comparison. It doesn’t create the comparison—it feeds on it, amplifying our tendency to measure our worth against others’ success, achievements, or recognition. This outward focus can create a scarcity mindset—the belief that someone else’s win diminishes our own potential. The result isn’t just the fear of falling behind; it’s a relentless cycle of striving for things we may not even want, driven by an unconscious need to measure up.

Envy distorts how we see the world and hides in feelings like frustration, irritation, or resentment. It whispers lies that create separation: You’re not good enough. You’ll never catch up. You’re falling behind. Left unchecked, envy becomes corrosive, feeding on self-doubt and comparison, which, in turn, fuel its grip—draining our energy, souring relationships, and keeping us trapped in a relentless cycle.

For high performers, the stakes are even higher. We’re often reluctant to acknowledge envy because it clashes with the image we hold of ourselves as capable, confident, and resilient. But suppressing these feelings doesn’t make them disappear—it compounds their impact, leading to stress and undermining our mental well-being.

Unlike jealousy, which fears losing something we already have, envy stems from the belief that someone else has something we lack. It feeds a sense of scarcity—of opportunity, recognition, or self-worth—and blinds us to the abundance in our own lives. Instead of appreciating others’ brilliance, envy twists it into a threat, creating distance where there could be connection.

Looking back, I see how envy quietly shaped my thoughts and actions without my awareness. I didn’t think of myself as an envious person—I prided myself on being positive, supportive, and optimistic. I didn’t realize envy had its grip on me—I couldn’t possibly be someone who envied others. I was above that, or so I thought. So when discomfort crept in, I misinterpreted it. I thought I was losing my edge or burning out. But it wasn’t the work, and it wasn’t other people’s success—it was my own unmet desires, reflected back to me like a mirror.

One afternoon, as I was scrolling through the feeds, I saw an influencer break down a framework from one of my teachers—something I knew like the back of my hand. This person didn’t credit my teacher, yet the thread went viral, racking up thousands of likes and retweets. My first reaction was fury: How could they post this as their own without giving credit? But as I sat with it, I realized my frustration wasn’t just about them. It was about me. I envied their boldness to put the framework out there, to share it widely, even imperfectly. I envied their visibility, their reach, their willingness to claim the spotlight. What I wanted wasn’t their post—I wanted the initiative to share what I had learned, and claim the credit and influence I’d been holding back from pursuing.

This is what makes envy so insidious: it hides in plain sight, fueled by stories we tell ourselves about who we are—and who we think we should be. Sometimes, it begins with self-doubt, a quiet belief that we’re not enough, which makes others’ success feel like a reminder of our shortcomings. Other times, envy comes first, latching onto what others appear to have and planting seeds of insecurity and inadequacy. Either way, envy distorts our perspective. Instead of celebrating others’ achievements, we see them as evidence of our lack. Instead of connecting with others, we isolate ourselves in a loop of comparison.

Envy is uncomfortable, yes, but it’s also a guide. It can erode our sense of self, or it can point us back to what truly matters. The choice lies in whether we’re willing to face it, name it, and use it as a tool for deeper connection—to our gifts and the gifts of others. Envy can be an invitation to reconnect—with our desires, with the people we admire, and with our own unique path. By shifting focus inward, cultivating self-awareness, and fostering appreciation, we can move beyond the grip of comparison. 

The Turning Point: Seeing the Beauty in Myself—and Others

Last year, I attended the Hoffman Process, a week-long immersion designed to help participants uncover the deep emotional patterns and conditioned beliefs formed in childhood. Through a mix of guided visualizations, somatic practices, expressive work, and journaling, the process created space for profound self-reflection and healing.

Through these practices, I began to uncover parts of myself I had never truly seen—qualities I hadn’t fully acknowledged or embraced before, and could see were beautiful. Patience. Resilience. Compassion. Courage. Strength. These weren’t fleeting traits; they were intrinsic parts of who I was, waiting for me to notice them.

For the first time, I began to truly see and appreciate these aspects of myself. And as I did, something even more surprising happened: I started seeing those same beautiful qualities—and many more—in the other participants. What had once felt like a gap between me and them began to dissolve. Their gifts no longer felt like threats.

One of the most profound realizations I had at Hoffman was about projections—the stories we unconsciously place onto others. I had always thought of projections as negative, a way to externalize our insecurities or fears. But I realized we also project our hidden brilliance. The qualities I admired in others weren’t a reflection of my lack; they were a mirror of what I carried within myself but hadn’t yet fully owned. This shift was subtle but profound: instead of separation, I began to see connection. Instead of not-enoughness, I began to see possibility.

This realization stayed with me and unfolded even more clearly as I built a team at Downshift. I surrounded myself with incredibly talented, insightful people—individuals whose brilliance I couldn’t help but admire. At times, I felt a familiar pang of envy, sparked by the way their writing, ideas, and perspectives illuminated the world so vividly. But instead of letting it create distance, I let their brilliance inspire me, inviting me to see not only their gifts but my own more clearly.

At first, I caught myself comparing. Why can’t I do that? Why don’t I think that way? But as I sat with those questions, a deeper truth emerged: their gifts didn’t diminish me. Instead, they revealed something beautiful. Their brilliance didn’t just complement my own—it enriched the team as a whole, creating more possibilities than I could have imagined on my own. I didn’t have to do it all or be it all to be worthy. I was enough—exactly as I was.

The turning point came when I realized that accepting myself—my own unique mix of qualities and talents—created space to genuinely celebrate the gifts in others. When I let go of trying to measure up, of needing to compare, I found freedom. Envy lost its grip. And with that freedom came something unexpected: joy. By opening myself up to collaboration, I discovered the richness that comes from sharing ideas and creating together. I didn’t have to have all the answers or carry the weight alone; I could lean on others and, in doing so, experience the power of connection.

This shift wasn’t just intellectual; it was deeply emotional. It felt like releasing a clenched fist, like finally exhaling after holding my breath for far too long. Others’ brilliance was no longer a threat—it was an invitation to appreciate, not just them, but myself as well.

And that was the turning point: when I stopped seeing others’ light as evidence of my own shadow.

From Envy to Appreciation: An Invitation to Self-Discovery

If you’re reading this and some part of my story resonates—if you’ve felt that constriction, that quiet unease of seeing someone else’s success—then I want to invite you to pause for a moment. Not to judge yourself or push the feeling away, but to get curious about it.

In my experience, envy isn’t just an emotion; it’s a signal. The challenge is that envy often speaks in whispers, disguising itself as resentment or inadequacy. But if we’re willing to listen, it can be one of our greatest teachers.

So how do you do that? There’s no one-size-fits-all approach, but here are a few gentle practices that helped me make this shift:

Pause and Reflect

When envy arises, resist the urge to shove it aside or react impulsively. Instead, pause. Breathe. Let the emotion settle like silt in water so you can see it more clearly. What does this envy want to show you? Is it pointing to an unmet desire, a fear of being left behind, or a value you’ve neglected? As uncomfortable as it may feel, sit with the emotion. Ask yourself: Where do I feel it in my body? What thoughts or stories come up alongside it? Pausing creates space—not just to understand envy but to uncover the insight it holds.

Examine the Object of Your Envy

After pausing, take a closer look at what’s triggering your envy. Is this something you genuinely want, or is it something you feel you’re supposed to want? What stories are you spinning about the person who appears to have it? Are you imagining their life as more effortless, joyful, or fulfilling than yours? Gently question these assumptions and notice how much energy you’re investing in clinging to those beliefs. Sometimes, envy reveals not what we truly desire, but what we’ve been conditioned to chase.

Assess the Costs and Your Willingness

Envy can sometimes highlight something you genuinely want, but it’s important to ask: Am I willing to do what it takes to get there? Reflect on the costs—time, energy, sacrifices—and whether pursuing this goal aligns with your values and the life you want to lead. Not every object of envy is worth chasing, and acknowledging this can bring clarity and peace. By honestly assessing your willingness to do the work, you can either commit to the path or release the desire with intention.

Acknowledge and Appreciate Your Own Gifts

Envy often thrives in the shadows of self-doubt. When we don’t see our own value, we project that lack onto others. Take a moment to reflect on what makes you unique and extraordinary. What qualities do you bring to your relationships, your work, your life? Write them down, speak them aloud, or simply sit with them. Appreciation begins with acknowledging your own essence and brilliance.

Use Envy as a Compass for Growth

Envy can point us toward unmet desires or untapped potential. When you feel that pang of envy, pause and ask yourself: What does this emotion reveal about what I value or want more of in my life? For example, if you envy someone’s ability to connect deeply with others, perhaps it’s a sign to nurture your own relationships. Envy isn’t a stopping point—it’s a guide, showing you where to focus your attention and energy.

Celebrate Others to Expand Your World

One of the most transformative practices I’ve adopted is celebrating the success of others, especially those I once envied. It might feel uncomfortable at first—like forcing a smile—but with time, it opens a new perspective. Instead of seeing envy as a threat, express gratitude for the qualities you admire. Their brilliance doesn’t diminish yours. In fact, it can expand your sense of what’s possible for yourself.

This isn’t about forcing positivity or bypassing difficult emotions. Envy is uncomfortable, but it’s also deeply human. When we acknowledge it without judgment and explore it with curiosity, it has the power to connect us—not just to others, but to the parts of ourselves we’ve overlooked or undervalued.

A Life Beyond Envy

These days, when envy arises, I meet it with curiosity. Instead of recoiling from the discomfort or letting it quietly corrode my sense of self, I lean in. I’ve come to see envy as a flashlight, illuminating the parts of me that are still longing to be seen, nurtured, or expressed. Envy is no longer something to fear or suppress but something to understand and transform.

The shift from envy to appreciation has been one of the most liberating changes in my evolving story. It’s opened my heart to celebrating others in ways I never thought possible. It’s deepened my relationships and allowed me to see beauty where I once saw lack. Most importantly, it’s helped me see myself—clearly and compassionately—for who I truly am.

This transformation has reshaped my experience with Twitter, a space that once amplified my self-doubt and comparisons. Now, I can scroll through my feed and appreciate the brilliance of others’ ideas, creations, and insights without feeling diminished. I no longer feel compelled to play the game of algorithms, influence, or validation. Instead, I approach it on my terms, guided by my values and a deeper understanding of what truly matters. I’ve mostly stepped away—not from insecurity, but from a conscious decision to align my time and energy with what feels important and authentic.

The journey from envy to appreciation isn’t always easy, but it’s worth it. It asks you to face the stories that hold you back, to examine what you truly want, and to honor the unique brilliance within yourself. On the other side, you’ll find freedom—not just from envy, but from the constant striving to measure up. You’ll find the strength to stand tall in your own light and the joy of celebrating the light in everyone around you.