The Comparison Game

I'm fully aware that I'm not Usher (and good luck getting the song out of your head now), but I do have a little confession to make. This is just something that's been occupying my thoughts pretty much 24/7 lately. I'm not entirely sure why, but that usually means I need to write about it to help myself work through the issue.

And since I'm trying out the become-a-more-open-and-honest-blogger thing, I thought I'd share.

***

So there’s this game I play. I’ve been playing it for several years actually. I play it with lots of people—people I know, people I don’t know IRL, celebrities, bloggers I can’t get enough of, etc.

But I don’t enjoy this game at all. Because I always lose. Ready for the name of this why-the-eff-would-you-ever-play-this-game game?

It’s the Comparison Game.

Anyone else out there guilty of participating in this win-less, makes-you-feel-like-a-total-loser game?

For those of you unfamiliar with the way the game works, here are the rules:

1. Find someone (doesn’t matter if you know the person or not) whose life you’re convinced is better than yours. (Doesn’t matter if it is or not. While playing the Comparison Game, your judgment will be as clouded as the Oklahoma sky in tornado season.)

2. Constantly obsess over how much better this person’s life is than yours. Common phrases thought or uttered in this step include:

• So-and-so is skinnier than I am.
•  So-and-so is richer than I am.
• So-and-so has more blog/Twitter/social media in general followers than I do.
• So-and-so is happier than I am.

3.     Lose the game.

It’s that simple.

But I’m over this game. I don’t wanna play anymore. See, I know how blessed I am. I know I have nothing to complain about. I often feel like the kid whose mom tells her “You want me to give you something to cry about?” after she starts crying only because she knows she’s in trouble. (I may or may not have heard this phrase many times growing up.)

I have no legitimate reasons to be unhappy with my life. And it’s not that I’m unhappy per se. I just can’t seem to keep from comparing myself to others. Because someone always has it better, right?

But someone always has it worse too. And that’s something I’d do well to remember next time I think:

I wish I could afford to save $300 a month.
I wish my hair would grow as fast as hers does.
I wish my blog had over 200 followers.
I wish I could run 13 miles.

Because the truth is:

I can’t afford to save $300 a month right now—but I can pay my bills and occasionally enjoy a night out with friends or a little somethin-somethin for myself.

My hair doesn’t define me. Although my (lack of) hair is a major insecurity for me, I have to accept the fact that my hair just doesn't grow like it used to.

My blog may never have over 200 followers, or even 20. But my blog isn’t my life, and I don’t blog for the fame and fortune that comes from being a bona fide blogger. I blog for me. (If bloggers with 200-plus followers don’t actually gain fame and fortune, I’d rather not know the truth.)

I can’t run 13 miles because I’ve never tried hard enough. I give the running thing a go three or four times a year, but I never stick with it for longer than a month. If I want to be able to run a half marathon without being carted off on a stretcher, I've got to make myself stick with it for once.

With those realizations fresh in my mind, I’ve got to figure out how to avoid the siren song of this cursed Comparison Game.

I’ve never been in a 12-step program, but I’ve watched enough episodes of Intervention to know that the first step is admitting I have a problem.

But all I know about the remaining 11 steps is that I need to prepare for a lot of self-examination. Why do I feel inferior in these areas? Why are these things so important to me? Why am I not satisfied with giving my best and accepting where that takes me?

I know we’re all different and that that’s what makes the world go round. I know God made me the way I am for a specific purpose. And maybe once I figure out what that specific purpose is I’ll stop basing my self-worth on how I measure up against others.