I constantly compare myself to others. I have the jealousy thing kicked. Well, almost. You know what I’m talking about, right? Being jealous of others for what they have, what they accomplished, what they look like, their successes, public triumphs, riches, and so on and so forth. I know, and I think it’s finally baked in, that jealousy stops the flow of creativity, success, love, well, everything I’m actually jealous of, and probably more. With this in mind, whenever I find myself feeling a little envious of someone, I instead stop and wish them more of whatever I envy. More success, more money, more love, more applause, more good works, more, more, more. And it’s working. I’m not often jealous of people anymore…
But, I still compare my life to other people’s lives. And social media makes it really easy to do this. The thing with the comparison game is that it breeds dissatisfaction. Interestingly I only compare myself to people I kind of know, basically, acquaintances and their friends. My favorite of the social media is Instagram. I love looking at images. I love discovering new recipes, new decorating tips, new things. And the voyeur in me loves peeking into other people’s worlds. Their social lives, their homes, their friends, their work lives. What I’ve found is that I follow an acquaintance and then I follow her friends, and this is when the comparison game starts.
I love my life. I enjoy my work and my home life. I have a wonderful, supportive life partner. I have a good circle of friends. I eat really delicious food. I cook in a beautifully designed kitchen. I travel to places I like. I work with people who inspire and excite me. I have the cutest cat in the world, who deigns to live with us. I am, as the hashtag goes, blessed. But… there’s always a but in the comparison game.
But when I go on Instagram, or read about some of my acquaintances in magazines, I wonder, is my life really so great? Am I Missing Something?
A few casual friends of mine work in fashion in New York, and I find myself studying their lives and the lives of their nearest and dearest with fascination. Their lives seem so fabulous, full of parties, gorgeous clothes, and beautiful people. Interestingly, I don’t want to go to those parties. I’m happy at home, drinking a beer, recipe testing something Ageless Diet approved, writing my book, hanging with my husband and our cat. But when I look at photos from my one fashion friend’s Instagram account, I wonder, am I really living a good life. I’m not in the Hamptons. I’m not friends with the most famous TV producer in the world. I don’t hang with Oscar winning lifestyle gurus. I don’t go to small French bistros on the Upper East Side and drink wine and eat foie gras. I don’t travel business class on my company’s dime. I’m my company, and we pay for economy class only.
What’s funny is I don’t want to be married to Jerry Seinfeld (and he for sure wouldn’t want to be married to me), and I don’t want to work for a big company. I like working for myself. I don’t want to travel all the time; the one or two times a month I get on a plane are plenty. I don’t want to have dress up for events all the time. And I really don’t want to pay the mortgage on a 3 million dollar loft in SoHo. And even though I don’t want these things, seeing them, comparing my stuff to his stuff, makes me feel dissatisfied with my choices.
Ok, I’ll admit it: I wouldn’t mind getting invited to these parties, and I would be thrilled to be able to afford business class on those long trips abroad. And, I’d enjoy a summer spent at a villa in France. But, overall, I like the life I’ve manifested.
Still, why, when I compare myself to my more social, and more socially successful friends, do I feel my life lacking? I mean, as I’ve already said, I like my life. So what gives?
There’s something about the comparison game that brings on self-judgement. I always lose. It’s a bit like being jealous. I always come up short. How often do I compare myself to someone less fortunate and feel what I truly am, blessed? Not that often. Actually, never. And how many times do I look at these people I know in New York, Hollywood and feel worse. Not because I want to be those people, but because I think I’m not enough. What I do, where I live, isn’t right, it isn’t quite up to snuff. Suddenly anything I”m working on, anything I’ve accomplished falls flat.
And that’s on me. That’s all self-judgement. I’m the worst judge of me I’ll ever know. I’ll always come up short when I compare myself to others. Because I won’t let it be any other way. I’m my judge, jury, and I do the sentencing.
My solution is this, because we all know I won’t stop using social media: Instead of trying to stop comparing and contrasting altogether – an impossible task for a hyper-analytical person like me – I’ll redirect that comparison to my life. I’ll compare my past to my present. And, baby, I’ve come a long way. I bet you have too.
Next time, Jessica or Sarah or Plum or Tony or Eric or Sandra or Jay or Lucy or any of these people go somewhere cool, meet someone celebrated, live somewhere beautiful, I’ll applaud their good fortune, and I’ll remember that last year my book wasn’t written, my film project wasn’t in production, my show wasn’t shot, and I wasn’t as self-aware and happy as I am now.
I’ll think about how I continue to improve and grow. That’s what counts in the comparison game. And, I hope you’ll do the same with yourself. Because no one can be me but me, and no one can be you but you. We’re the best at that.