Don't envy me.

People call me brave and adventurous, ambitious and determined. They congratulate me for making a decision that changed my life even though I was terrified it would, well, change my life. But for as courageous and composed as people think I am, the truth is deep down I'm as frazzled and anxious as you are. The path I've chosen wears on me, just like yours wears on you. 

I'm scared - Every. Single. Day. Of what I'm missing back home. Of losing touch. Of losing people. Of not learning enough or trying to learn too much. Of missing the signs that I'm in the wrong or the right place. You may think my life is worth envying. You see my pictures on Facebook; you imagine me regularly parading through passport control; you see me making friends around the globe and pursuing the opportunities I always said I would.

But you know what? I envy you, dear 8-to-6'er (nobody works 9 to 5 anymore, let's be honest). You're chained to your desk, at a job where you don't feel fulfilled. You sometimes plot how to accidentally spill your coffee on your keyboard so that it can be out of commission for a while. You eat lunch at your desk because coming back from a break just reminds you how much you don't want to be there. But hey, you have stability. You have a steady paycheck, perhaps a retirement account and savings, even. There are times when you feel accomplishment and optimism and self-worth. I envy that.

Dear wearied mom, you think cleaning runny poop - or, God forbid, crusty poop - off your teething infant's butt is unglamorous and perpetual. Perhaps you feel moribund, stuck in the monotony of your day-to-day. While I'm eating couscous in Morocco and Parmesan in Italy, you're taste-testing baby foods. Those meats really are awful. As much as you love your kids, sometimes you dream of travel, adventure or, hell, just a few days off. But guess what? I envy you, too. You are surrounded by people who know and support you. As much as that baby cries, she loves you, and you can hold her when you're about to break. I envy that.

Dear straying partner, you think your relationship is sparkless, blissless, romantic-comedy-moment-less. On Monday you talk about a weekend date night, but by Friday you're microwaving popcorn and falling asleep at 9 with crumbs in your bed. He's tired. You're tired. You wonder about passion and romance and surprise. But guess what? You're falling asleep next to him. When he holds you, it reminds you why you've hung on for so long. I envy that.

Dear young newlywed, you still hold your hand in the sun and watch your ring sparkle. You can't help but cry when you hear the song you danced to with Dad at your wedding, and you have tiered white cake in the freezer. But sometimes the naysayers get to you, the ones who've said you're not at an "OK age" to marry, that being ready only happens after you pass a certain birthday, that you didn't have time to find you before you agreed to we. You know what? I envy you, too. I envy the strength you had to commit. I envy the burnt dinners at home and the wedding album on the coffee table. I envy you having an us.

Even so, life is about decisions and accepting the highs and lows that come with them. There are good days and bad days for all of us. I'm not cleaning baby poop off butts, but I'm cleaning pigeon poop off my European sandals. Some days I'm OK with that. Some days I'm not. But I can't sit and compare my life to yours, and you shouldn't compare yours to mine. Because envy is a cancer. So here's to fighting it with everything good we've got.