Comparison.

Like guilt, comparison is an imaginary houseguest who hangs out (uninvited) in my head. Like the uninvited houseguest, I want it to leave yet I engage every attempt it makes to keep the conversation going.

What does this look like?

It looks like thoughts that creep into my head late at night as I try to wind down for the day. And rather than settle down like a good brain, mine begins to replay all the different interactions of the day. And that’s when comparison begins talking:

“Wow, I can’t believe this couple can afford that vacation. There’s no way we could.”

“Ugh, what’s wrong with me that I can barely keep up as a stay-at-home mom. Some moms work full-time!”

“I wish I could run as fast as that person.”

“I wish I was as successful as that person.” 

“Why can’t I be a more patient mom? That mom is always so patient and loving with her kids.”

Why? Why? Why?

Wish. Wish. Wish.

Compare. Compare. Compare.

The need to release comparison from my life is and I think always will be a constant battle. I don’t think I can release this toxic thinking forever, but I do think it’s possible to equip myself with tools to handle the comparison guest whenever he makes an unwanted visit.

I’ve been reading Almost Everything: Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott. I love Anne Lamott. Everything she writes I want to commit to memory. Her thoughts on everything from writing to parenthood to hope are both abstract musings and totally real revelations about everyday life. Yet she began one chapter with words that really connected with my own musings about toxic comparison:

Almost everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy, scared, and yet designed for joy. Even (or especially) people who seem to have it more or less together are more like the rest of us than you would believe. I try not to compare my insides to their outsides, because this makes me much worse than I already am, and if I get to know them, they turn out to have plenty of irritability and shadow of their own. (55)

“I try not to compare my insides to their outsides.”

One more time:

“I try not to compare my insides to their outsides.”

Wow. If that doesn’t whack the comparison guest in my head with a frying pan it at least shoves him out the door for the time being. I think this will be my new mantra.

I think this particular sentence really speaks to our day and age when social media constantly presents everyone’s “outside” while we often sit at our most vulnerable state, alone with our insides – both good and bad – vying for the spotlight on the stage of our consciousness. It can get pretty ugly in there.

But as Anne points out (we're on a first name basis) and as I’ve learned throughout the year as I’ve tried to connect more with other people, everyone has their struggles. Even someone that I thought had the “perfect life” begins to unfold as flawed, with troubles of their own.

And do I like them less for sharing their imperfections? Their struggles? No! I like them more! I want to be friends with these people! Back to Anne: "This is good news, that almost everyone is petty, narcissistic, secretly insecure and in it for themselves, because a few of the funny ones may actually long to be friends with you and me. They can be real with us, the greatest relief.”

A relief? Yes. A release? Definitely.

Somedays, I remind myself that my life might look pretty perfect to some people. That someone might look at my Facebook feed and think “wow, she has a pretty perfect life. I wish I had that.” I try not to use this as a self-esteem booster (although I really do have a pretty awesome life – far from perfect but pretty awesome).  Instead, I try to remind myself to be real: I post the imperfect picture on Facebook. I talk to someone about how crazy my kids are making me. I laugh about how I struggled in the new workout class I took. I think it's important for people to remember that life is not perfect nor are people. The good coexists with the bad often within the walls of our head. 

The amazing thing about sharing vulnerabilities is that exposing them strips them of their power. It’s like confronting a bully: the bully’s power is often in the fear planted in the victim’s head. Once the victim talks to a trusted individual about the bullying, the bully has already lost some of his or her power. Once shared, ideas can be formed about how to confront the issue. The bully is no longer a formidable opponent, but one that can actually be defeated. 

The same goes for the uninvited houseguest comparison. Once we truly connect with others, there is no longer room in our house for comparison. He is simply squeezed out by all the other wonderful guests in our brain: connection, laughter, compassion, kindness, and love.