Back when American presidents used to be people worth quoting, Theodore Roosevelt famously said: “Comparison is the thief of joy”. How true this is!
It’s hard to feel joyful and to celebrate the beauty of any given moment when your head is busy running another script altogether. Here’s an example: I recently met up with a long-lost pal whose career I had read about in the local paper. Before we even connected for a coffee, I’d been fighting the tide of “Am I achieving enough? Should I be working full time so I, too, could have an illustrious career worth celebrating?” and when the day finally came, I’m sorry to say that my first thought was not “how wonderful it is to catch up with this friend!”, instead my mind slid to “damn, she looks good! I wish I’d dressed up a wee bit more!”.
While I’m sure that the comparison trap has always existed (along with the toxic cousins Jealousy and Envy) this tendency to compare our lives with other people is amplified in today’s social media landscape. Consider the findings of a study by the Royal Society for Public Health in the UK, that 63% of Instagram users (each on the site for about an hour a day) reported feeling ‘miserable’ as a result of the habit. Instagram inevitably encourages us to put our best selves forward. We are invited to share our lives as though we are stars of a scripted, choreographed story, when life is much messier (and more interesting!) than that. Real life doesn’t always photograph well! God forbid your bench is cluttered, desk strewn with coffee cups, or indoor plants not bursting with health.
The danger of social media (and of comparison in general) is that we can spend our entire lives “comparing up” and feeling as though we come up short. Someone is always going to seem like a better mum (whatever that means), a better business woman, a better athlete, a better environmentalist, a better hairdresser, a better wife, a better speaker of te reo Māori, a better daughter, a better interior designer.
We can’t all be good at everything, and we oughtn’t feel ashamed about it. I’m the mum whose kid usually has the scruffiest ponytail in the class, but I’m also the mum who has learned to feel oK about it (it makes her easy to spot in a crowd, and if her older sister is anything to go by, it’ll make an independently tidy hair-doer of her, later!).
The thing is, friends, we cannot, do not know the full life of another. Who knows what a person’s reasons are for seeking a show-home tidy house, a million dollar deal, or six-pack abs. Is your friend the ultra-marathon runner running toward her best life? Or running away from something? My hope is that the tidy house, million dollar deal, and marathon running six pack all represent a joyful expression of a person’s true self, and are not the stressed-out result of responding to society’s description of what ‘successful’ looks like.
Because ‘successful’ can mean an infinite number of things. Your definition of ‘successful’ might be to own your own home by the time you’re 35, or it might be to have read all of Agatha Christie’s novels by that same age. It’s up to you. In my world, I feel pretty successful when I manage at least one weekly walk in nature. I also thrive if I can get (most!) of my bills paid every month, and find some enjoyment in my work. I feel most successful when my relationships (hubby, BFFs, kids) are mostly good. Such riches! I am thankful.
It is well worth taking the time to think through that notion – what does success mean to you? Being able to afford pinot noir to share over dinner on a winter’s evening? Or owning a bach, mortgage free? You (and only you) get to decide, and I’d urge you to really drill down on this one: ensure your desires are truly your own, and that you are not unconsciously absorbing those that have been foisted upon us. We are immersed in a culture that worships a fairly narrow band of ideas (luxury car, sporting gold, thigh gap) when the true width and breadth of human desires is as diverse as humanity itself. What would support your feelings of success, competence and fulfilment? Learning beekeeping? Visiting Ghana? Finishing that accountancy course?
If you have written your own definition of a successful life, it’s much easier to resist comparing your own life to someone else’s.
But still it happens! So what can we learn from this? We would be well advised to notice the places in our lives where small comparisons are robbing us of joy. Like the true story from the start of this article, about my coffee meet-up with my long-lost pal. What did we do? Well, about halfway through our polite catch-up about careers and kids, I admitted to her that seeing her polished look (and amazing shoes) made me feel embarrassed about my borderline scruffy, work-from-home sparkly jandals. She laughed, and admitted that she had been victim to a similar comparison trap: I had a cute frock on when she’d worn sensible pants. Our conversation got way more real after that, and I left feeling like I had rekindled a genuine friendship.
It reminded me of a similar story from more than a decade ago, when my dear friend and I were out walking our new babies. The conditions were what you’d expect on an autumnal day on the Canterbury coast: bracing easterly, dazzling sunny sky. Our babies were fed and warm, snuggled in their pushchairs. We paused, and stared at each other anxiously. “Oh you’re good”, said my friend. “You’ve got her covered up with a shade cover. That’s important with our harsh sun.” I shook my head. “No! I had just been thinking that you had the right idea by having him under that rain cover – the plastic will block that chilly wind”.
It’s so telling that we were quick to judge ourselves, but neither of us was judging the other (“She really should have her baby under shade …”). Also, neither of us used comparison to notice our “success” (“I’m so glad I thought to protect her from the sun!”). We only saw what we imagined to be our weakness.
In both of these examples, these smaller stumbles into the comparison trap were laughed off in the moment, and shining a light on the awkward feeling allowed for authenticity of expression, which can only create more honest relationships. I think it’s important that these small stumbles don’t go unchallenged, because the awareness of them will help us to resist the giant comparisons.
Like the guilt-inducing, worry-dripping comparison of the Paid vs Unpaid working mother. The Career Mum and the Stay-at-home mum. Or the painful comparisons that keep you awake as you ponder the lives of your monied friends, your child-free friends, your friends with great skin, or (sigh!) naturally speedy metabolisms.
But here we go again: remember … we usually do not know the inner stories of others (can we ever really know?) SO pay attention to the times your own frustrations contribute to the comparison trap, and whether you have a tendency to fill in the gaps about people (“I bet she has it so easy, with her fast car and even faster metabolism!”) – instead, wonder what life is like for them. That fast car might have been grudgingly bought with an inheritance that represents great tragedy. And that speedy metabolism might make it difficult to maintain a healthy weight. It’s not all easy, all the time – for anyone.
With good friends, we can practice the same authentic honesty I shared in the shade/sun cover and amazing shoes/jandals examples before. By simply acknowledging the clunky comparison we have been making, even the biggest and most painful examples can lose some of their fire.
Like when I was struggling to conceive a second time, and my friend with three daughters (of whom I was jealous) acknowledged that she thought my life with my one-and-only child looked fantastic. I appreciated her candour, having incorrectly figured she looked at me pityingly – which is how I looked at myself at the time. There we go again with the filling in gaps for people! Caution!
Likewise, I recently spent the day with a good friend of mine, and his grown daughter. This friend and I had started on a similar career trajectory, but I jumped off the treadmill – twice – taking looooooong maternity leave. Now he’s traveling the world, publishing books, and enjoying professional recognition. Meanwhile, I’m making toasted sandwiches for grumpy kids, driving on school trips, and hunting for lost swimming goggles. The thing that saves our friendship from debilitating jealousy is our ability to speak truth to these experiences: when he shares his latest success I know how to say “I”m a bit jealous!”, and when he visits my settled domestic set up, he’ll confess the same thing.
Meanwhile, I just told his grown daughter that I thought she was the one living the dream! She’s a beautiful young mum running her life out of a lovingly adapted van, and from where I stood, it looked like simple, self contained bliss! She countered that she thought I, in fact, had it going on, with my veggie gardens, chickens, and acres. The three of us – successful career, mobile independence, and home orchard, respectively – could all see the beauty in one another’s lives.
By acknowledging the comparison, we removed any bitterness, and it gave us an opportunity to not only laugh at ourselves, but to step back and remember “yes, you’re right … my life IS pretty awesome!”.
I reckon that’s how you can recognise the comparison trap, and disarm it – with observation, compassion, and pragmatism. Then concentrate on living your own best life.
Top Five Comparison Busters:
In the words of that late 90’s classic “Everybody’s Free (to Wear Sunscreen) – which you should go and look up right now if you don’t know it – “the race is long, and in the end it’s only with yourself”. Remind yourself – nobody’s watching! Those comparisons are likely only existing in your own mind … so set yourself free! How? See point #1!
Originally published in OHbaby! magazine, issue 45, Autumn 2019 Also available at https://www.ohbaby.co.nz/parenting/for-you-mama/dont-fall-into-the-mama-comparison-trap