Schadenfreude And Its Converse

Solitude and companionship are both compromises. With solitude comes loneliness along with relative peace, and with companionship comes strife along with relative intimacy. Either scenario seems a bit of a wash as to whether the prioritization of one psychological need (peace or intimacy, as the case may be) over another psychological need (intimacy or peace, as the case may be) is ultimately advantageous. Together these alternative scenarios present a larger, more metaphysical wash: I'm screwed either way, on the one hand, and it could be a lot worse either way, on the other hand.

I know that I should try to be grateful and count my lucky stars. After all, imagine how difficult life must be for the confirmed bachelor[ette] who's unhinged, mad with inner turmoil. Imagine the loveless couple who must negotiate their competing interests without empathy or tenderness. Think of these wretches! I remind myself that maintaining a positive outlook is important, that optimism breeds happiness, and I think of these wretches. These losers are mere figments, hypothetical patsies in my mind, but I'm confident that their real-life analogs must number in the many thousands (if not the millions). Their misery fortifies me. Their sad lot helps me to put my own situation into perspective and enables me to regard my fate with acceptance and even some modicum of thankfulness.

Of course, this is not to say that I don't suffer crises of faith, far from it. I've tossed and turned through my dark nights of the soul. I've felt in my gut that sinking, sickening feeling that somewhere out there are those who have everything. Oh, God, damn them! Is there a blessed hermit who has never cried out into the silence, desperate for fellowship? In my nightmares, his cup runs over and he mocks me. Are there charmed lovers whose interests never diverge, who share an agenda as closely as they share confidences and passion? In my terrible fantasies, they toast their bliss and they pity me. These smug specters trumpet the rudeness and the cruelty of a destiny that I suspect to have sorely cheated me. Why should these fortunate few have it all? What entitles them to such perfect happiness?

Yes, there are times when I seethe and, yes, it's unhealthy, but as the jealousy and the rage begin to swell in my breast I try to calm myself by remembering those less fortunate than me. I reflect on those condemned to plumb the endless depths in search of ever lower stations into which to settle as they sink with their woe, and doing so almost invariably lifts my spirits.