Hi all,
sorry for being MIA. I tried to maintain a writing routine and start a demanding job at the same time, but it’s been hard. I’m also trying to not beat myself up for it, to remember that life is long and non-linear, and that everything can’t happen at the same time, but self-compassion’s been tricky, too.
In the past six months, I’ve been extra focused on the people who are *doing the thing* and deeply convinced that I am not one of them. By “doing the thing” I mean pursuing creative projects and ideas until they become a magical, inspiring, livable and money-generating (!) reality. Naturally, this has meant spending more time absorbing others’ content on Substack than creating my own; it’s meant feeling an immediate ephemeral high from reading an inspiring post followed by the slow and sticky crash that comes from remembering that the path to “getting there” is still invisible; and, naturally, it’s meant putting myself through this cycle on repeat.
Like with most slightly addictive but not-too-deadly things, the problem with comparison is that it always seems okay to do a little bit. When I notice myself falling into another loop, I reflexively think of that one time when scrolling through that stranger’s profile sparked an idea in me, or convince myself that I’m only typing her name in the search bar to “see what she’s been up to”—as one does with their boyfriend’s ex—just to make it alright. There’s a Drunk Uncle Voice in my head that winks at me and says a glass of wine at dinner never killed anyone. And, to be fair, I have been fueled by a micro dose of competition in the past; but most of the time, it’s plain toxic.
Comparison seems to loom large for a lot of us. So large that I’ve noticed that when it comes up in conversation, it’s often followed by an eye-roll and a “god, don’t even get me started.” And when I hear that, the inquisitor in me perks up. Pushing people to talk about the topics that make them uncomfortable is one of my favorite things in the world. But then the answers I get are confused. When do you do it? Like all the time. Who do you compare yourself to? Like people…who are…better than me. Why? They don’t know.
Comparison temporarily stops the clock. When I indulge in it, I experience tunnel vision and all I can focus on is anything I want to see about this one person and all the ways in which we are different, which are infinite. And that’s the danger with comparison, isn’t it? It can feed on anything, forever, and it’s very hungry. There’s no point in trying to satisfy it except to come out on the other side a little more drained, a little smaller still.
I know that the only way out of the comparison loop is to extract myself from it completely. I know that the only solution is to look away; to take my inclination to compare as information about what I want and then to build towards those things relentlessly. And it’s so hard to self-preserve. And it’s so easy to indulge. But I don’t think the point is just to “not compare”—it’s about “doing the thing,” all the things, that make us so proud to be ourselves that we no longer have the time, space or interest to use others as a means of self-sabotage.
See you soon,
CC
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P.S.: I’m still thinking of ways to give the journaling prompts of the Monarc Chronicles a sustainable life. In the meantime, I’ll be joining Suleika Jaouad’s journaling club in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden next week. I’m hoping it’ll give me ideas for how we might gather around life transitions together.