The Silent Threat

Yes, I said it. Mediocre.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m mediocre at plenty of things, sewing being one of them. Patterns might as well be cursed scrolls sealed in Latin. But every year, I throw myself into cosplay for New York Comic Con like it’s a life-or-death mission. Last year was a masterpiece of poor timing. I had two surgeries, crutches, and a headpiece that doubled as a medieval torture device. Did I wobble into Comic Con like a half-bedazzled disaster? Yes. Was I proud? Also, yes. Mediocrity with theatrical flair is still a win in my book.

This whole thing pushed me out of my comfort zone. I uploaded a few photos after the Con and didn’t think much of it. The next morning, I woke up to a wave of sweet reactions from friends. No one knew I was on crutches because, frankly, I wasn’t trying to collect pity points. I just wanted to look like a dramatic Gorgon. A few asked what I used, and I even shared some before and after pics of the process. I’ve never been one to hoard knowledge. I was wrong.

One friend, in particular, went full interrogation mode. They had a Halloween party coming up and wanted tips. I didn’t mind sharing. I wasn’t about to treat my Amazon links like launch codes. Later that night, while scrolling through my comments, I noticed something: that same friend hadn’t reacted or commented on my post. Nothing. Huh?

Out of curiosity, I checked last year’s post. Again, no engagement. Apparently, my handmade armor and bruised dignity weren’t worth a single emoji. Ah, intéressant…

Maybe I was bored, or maybe my crutches gave me time to think, but the pattern clicked. This person never congratulated me on anything. Meanwhile, I clapped for them like a possessed seal at every mildly impressive thing they did. It wasn’t because I expected something back. That’s not how I operate.It’s simply something I just do because support is a habit for me.

I felt like emotionally spiraling and decided to scroll through their page and, surprise, they were hyping up content creators and celebrities like they were being paid in exposure and black lipstick. My book had launched around the same time they congratulated someone else for something I can’t even remember.

Here’s my theory

No, I’m not a therapist; I just have a highly suspicious mind and a penchant for overanalyzing human behavior. No, it has nothing to do with my star sign. Some people prefer to support the ultra-successful due to the fact that those people are aspirational and untouchable. It’s the sick idolatry of these people being on another level. They exist on Olympus. They’re not people; they’re a myth. Why? There’s no real threat or comparison. They become brands, not individuals. They become icons to project fantasies onto. Think about that the next time you win a baking competition.

Let’s flip the coffin lid the other way.

People also love to root for those they consider beneath them. That support often comes disguised as empathy, but sometimes it’s just pity with a smug ribbon. These folks are seen as “deserving” because they pose no risk. But give them a little momentum and watch that support shrivel like a Victorian bouquet.

Performative support vs. real encouragement

Now, before I tackle this point like a line-backer, I know some people lack nuance; this only applies if you’ve actually shown up for these people. I’m not talking about random followers. I’m talking about people you’ve poured into.

Performative support is a quick-like, somewhat a vague “you go girl,” or worse, a private DM full of praise they’re too cowardly to post publicly. I call that support in the shadows. Gothic, but not in a good way.

Real encouragement? That’s different. It’s public. It’s consistent. It takes effort. It’s not afraid to stand next to your spotlight instead of resenting it.

The classic defense

“I’m just being real.” Pulease! With whom? If you’re not offering support, advice, or a “damn, you did that,” then you’re not being real. You’re just feeding your ego in a cloak of faux authenticity.

This type of behavior manifests as backhanded compliments, side-eyes, or my personal favorite – total silence. It’s the emotional equivalent of a fog-covered grave, again, not in a Gothic fun way.

Society doesn’t just tolerate envy. It rewards it.

Because envy toward someone close enough to compare yourself to? That’s relatable. That’s marketable. That’s …ugly.

You don’t need the applause of the insecure

Regardless of what you’re doing in life, whether it’s baking, starting a vegan butcher shop, or just posting pictures of your iced coffee, you don’t need the applause of the insecure. Some people can’t clap for you because your rise, or your crawl upward, makes them realize they’re still standing in the same place, arms crossed, doing nothing but watching.