Dangerous Comparisons

I don’t like to consider myself a jealous person, but I admit that at times, I can be. I think we all do. It’s a human emotion and an extremely uncomfortable one at that. In a way, I see it as more than one emotion, as a simultaneous compilation of several emotions: envy, appreciation, insecurity about self, fear, sadness and inspiration. In the moment, I perceive jealousy to be only negative. It makes me feel guilty to possess jealousy at all, because many of us believe it to be driven by dislike or resentment towards the other person. It’s often seen in opposition of the support and happiness that we would intend to give to those whom we love and care for. Jealousy, to me, often feels like a betrayal of my true feelings for a friend or family member. It makes me question myself and my values. It makes me question whether I’m a good person or whether I’m just a selfish, egocentric, insensitive individual.

It all comes down to comparisons and our own internal insecurities we hold about ourselves. I spend so much of my life comparing myself to others, to my sisters, to my peers, to others in recovery, and even to strangers I meet in class or on the street. I constantly weigh my own characteristics against those of others, often in a way that’s degrading or judgmental either to myself or to the other person. “Her legs are so much more toned than mine.” “His speech was way better.” “What does she have that I don’t?” I hate myself for it, but I also make constant judgments towards others I see on a daily basis: “That’s a dumb idea.” “He put no work into that.” “She only thinks about herself.” Comparisons are what make my mind so dysfunctional and chaotic. I tend to base my standards and expectations for myself solely on the success of others. I feel poorly about myself if I fall short in comparison to a classmate and I feel good when I put someone else down. It’s a cycle that never leads me anywhere.

Because no matter how much I compare myself to him or her… I am, always have been, and always be… me. Just, me.

Lately, I’ve been finding it difficult to refrain from one comparison in particular. Being back in school, I’m surrounded by students who, for the most part, are a few years younger than me. It’s only a few years’ difference and age is just a number, but I still feel so… different. Isolated, in a way. Of course, I don’t regret the past year of recovery. I don’t regret going through what I’ve been through, because I needed to go through it. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without my experience, my past. But sometimes, I wonder… had I not fallen down, had I not given up all of this time to go to treatment, to heal and grow, where would I be now? Would I have a career, an apartment, maybe even a family of my own?

Someone I know recently accepted a tremendous job opportunity and is moving into a new apartment, in a new town. This new life of hers seems so glamorous, picturesque. And I’m happy for her. Or, at least, I’m trying to be. But I can’t stop my brain from whirring, snickering and taunting me with old criticisms: “Look how much farther she is in her life. How did you let yourself get so far behind?”

Jealousy. A human emotion, yes. But for me, it feels poisonous. It feels like a “gateway” emotion. I fear it could lead me to ruminate on what’s missing in my current life, on my mistakes in the past, regrets and missed opportunities. It could lead me to drown, yet again, in self-pity and depression. And from there… it would spiral.

In one of psychology textbooks this week, I read something that made total sense to me: we are all “like all other persons, like some other persons, and like no other person.” In some ways, we’re like everyone else and it’s natural to make comparisons between each other. But in other ways, we’re different… and in still others, we’re unique and even, unprecedented. When my mind is filled with judgments and criticisms, I need to pull myself out, to gain perspective, to realize that though I may share the same age as someone else (for example), I don’t share the same story. Someone else might be more successful, more financially stable, etc, but they are not me. They have not been through what I’ve been through. They have not encountered the same obstacles, nor have they overcome them. Had they shared the same experiences as I have, how do I know that they’d be any farther than I am today? I don’t. And honestly, it doesn’t matter.

Because I’m doing the best I can.

On the road of life, the speed at which we travel means nothing. It’s what we experience along the way that really matters.

Falling Leaves

“Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.” – Chad Sugg

Fall is my favorite season. I love the coolness in the air, just enough to require a light jacket. Fireplaces are kindled for the first time all year. Corn mazes, apple orchards, haunted houses. Lattes are spiced with a bite of cinnamon and pumpkin. But my favorite part is the autumnal foliage that decorates the trees wherever I go.

At other times of the year, the scenery can be so easily overlooked. We grow so used to the green shades of spring and summer that it seldom draws our attention. In Fall, though, you can’t glance out the window without your gaze being caught by the many hues of burnt orange, ruby red or gold. Their beauty demands to be noticed.

I grew curious the other day about the function of the changing colors. Why do the leaves change just before they fall from their branches? Aside from providing the world’s inhabitants with a masterpiece on which to feast our eyes, what purpose does this transition serve to the world, to nature? I read in an article that much is still unknown about the purpose of the autumnal pigment of a leaf (anthocyanin), but that it comes about when a tree experiences environmental stress, such as a drop in temperature. It’s thought that the darker shade may be a form of protection against the cold, an insulation of sorts. I found this idea beautiful.

As I believe to be true for people, leaves are the most beautiful when they are vulnerable. When we encounter the stress of a changing environment, as leaves do often in the autumn, we use our inner strength to protect ourselves. But that strength requires vulnerability, accepting that we are powerless to stop the world from changing. And with that acceptance, we cope in whatever ways we can.

Maybe, we stay the same.

Maybe, we fall.

And maybe, we use the strength inside to change along with the world around us.

A woman at work described Fall bitterly as “the season when everything dies.” I replied, “well, at least it dies beautifully.” She smiled and agreed, “the world’s last ‘hoorah.'” What a perfect phrase to describe this season. Sure, the leaves may be dying and falling to the ground one by one. But damn, do they go out strong. Fall, to me, is also a metaphor for hope. Because though it may signal the death of the leaves before the coming of winter, it does not mean the death of their hosts, the trees. There is hope that in the spring, new leaves will grow, flowers will blossom. So in a way, autumn symbolizes death with the promise of rebirth.

It’s the same for us. Life is difficult and stressful. At times, we are forced to use every last piece of strength that we hold inside of us. Like fall leaves, we may be forced to change ourselves in order to adjust to the world around us. We keep fighting to survive, to continue, to live. And there is so much beauty in that fight.

Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose and fall from our branches.

…But it’s okay, because even if we fall, there is always hope that we will grow again.