Dear Comparison | A Letter of Resignation
"Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we'll ever do." - Brené Brown
Dear Comparison,
I've played your game. I've played it well. I've followed by your rules for so long that I've forgotten what it feels like to be happy with myself. I should have medals around my neck to show how good I am at you, but instead, I have the chafing weight of shame and emptiness as my reward.
You are the pearly gates to self-destruction. You leave me picking apart my reflection in the mirror because I will never look like her. My complexion, not as clear. My hair won't do that thing. You have me on Instagram, scrolling through the endless feed of reasons why I don't measure up. Why I never will.
You have me canceling plans with a friend because I'm not brave enough to face her, or deal with her seemingly perfect life. I'm envious of her marriage, of the family portrait with the cute kids, of her pristine white marble countertops. I'm not as successful, or spiritual, or settled and I probably never will be.
What I didn't realize until now is that she is having the same feelings about me.
She dwells on my Facebook posts and finds herself craving my independence. To be able to put the husband and kids away and sleep in on a weekend without someone needing her to make their breakfast or give them a bath. She would kill for my hair because hers has been falling out from the stress of trying to stretch a paycheck to feed four mouths and pay the mortgage.
She shares only the best portraits of her family and quietly discards the dozens where the kids are crying or looking away from the camera. She wants you to believe she is happy. That she doesn't regret her decision to stay at home with the kids and give up the career she wanted so badly. She wants to be able to book that trip to Europe that she started thinking about in college.
You leave her staring at her reflection in the mirror, tracing the chafing marks on her own neck. Wishing away the twenty pounds of baby weight that she's been fighting to lose for two years. Applying an extra layer of makeup to mask the dark circles that have taken up residence under her eyes. You leave her wanting to be me.
Oh, comparison.
For years I've given you my time, energy, and even my sanity. You've made me hate myself for far too long. Today, I am quitting you. You've stolen my joy and now I'm stealing it back.
Regards,
A Former Subscriber
