There’s a concept in psychology called relative deprivation. I came upon this word from my colleague, a fellow educator, a fellow OFW. He’s always been somewhat happier, somewhat more generous in terms of his time and resources. He’s not much better off in terms of finances, but he always says he doesn’t care too much about it. From him I learned that maybe the feeling of emptiness, the striving for more, can sometimes be the result of relative deprivation.
This term pertains to the experience of feeling deprived, discontent, or unfairly disadvantaged because we compare our situation – or our group’s situation – to a more fortunate standard.
Unlike absolute deprivation, which is a strict lack of basic necessities like food or shelter, relative deprivation is entirely subjective, highlighting perception of a negative gap between what we have and what we believe we deserve.
This feeling breeds resentment, anxiety, and an overall negative feeling because we’re constantly evaluating ourselves against other people who are seemingly better than us or our current reality versus our own past status or future expectations.
Oftentimes, I always fall into the trap of relative deprivation myself. Being home oftentimes makes that feelings compound. I sometimes feel that if I haven’t been paying off my family’s debts, I would probably be in a much better financial situation. I often compare myself to academic friends who have gone on to achieve double and triple degrees. I sometimes think that if I haven’t been raising three children, I could have gone on and studied my masters and doctorate abroad a long time ago, too. I often look at the happy relationships of friends and wish that I could just stay in one place, teaching in one place, for a long period of time, perfectly fine with an ordinary income.
During these times, I would often catch myself because that kind of thinking is exactly what breeds endless resentment. It robs me of the ability to stay in the moment and enjoy the present. This kind of thinking makes my children lose me way before they physically lose access to me. This is a repetition of the parenting I have had, emotionally absent and persistently anxious. I know firsthand how painful that life is.
This feeling of relative deprivation, if left unchecked, can keep us imprisoned in a psychological prison that we have created for ourselves.
This summer break, I am consciously trying to unlearn this toxicity. I am starting by staying in the present. I am living in the now, even if that means not doing anything “productive” for now.
And here are the things I hope teachers and students would do during this summer break.
3 Permissions I’m Giving Myself This Summer Break
3 Things I Hope Students Gently Do During the Summer Break
The Teacher Reflection series provides reflections and learnings I’ve learned while navigating my life as an international educator and an OFW.