SHAME/CONFESSION/LIFE
A Confession. Taking Pleasure in the Misfortunes of Others
I sometimes feel good when others feel bad
I recently stood in the supermarket’s line to pay for my items. Without Wi-Fi and no phone to keep me occupied, I found myself eyeing celebrity gossip magazines. My first instinct was to think: “Ugh, who buys these dreadful magazines?” Then I picked one up. The weight gained and lost, cellulite, the ghastly hair, and the clothing misadventure revealing unintentional body parts caught my attention.
One story was an interview with a pop star who lived in a luxury mansion. I’m the sort of person who usually experiences envy on hearing about someone’s lavish mansion. But this was different. The story was about how she was lonely following a break-up.
A warm sensation worked its way across my chest. I felt fortunate. No, that’s not it. I felt superior. I confess. I sometimes feel good when others feel bad. And these feelings worry me — not just because I fear that my lack of compassion says something terrible about me — because they point so clearly to how sometimes I clutch at the disappointments of others to feel better about my own or to remind myself of how fortunate I am.
