Stop Measuring Yourself with Someone Else's Ruler.
Let's talk about your self-worth, and why it shouldn't be determined by what you see going on in other people's lives.
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Stop the contests.
We've all done it—scrolling without thinking, getting hit in the gut by some shiny moment from someone else's life.
That quiet little voice kicks in:
You're behind.
You're not doing enough.
You're messing this up.
"When you compare yourself to others, you forget your own POV."
-Gary Vaynerchuk
Gary’s right. There is a voice you have to retrain.
That voice shows up at work. At parties. Even at the fucking grocery store.
It sneaks in wherever there's a chance to feel smaller.
Comparison is everywhere.
And it's exhausting.
I've felt stuck in comparison.
I feel things about people. Sometimes I get this flash of something, like a mood or a truth of sorts, without them saying a word.
I’ve seen things in dreams, or just picked something up in the middle of a random conversation like it dropped out of the sky.
I don’t always know how to explain it, but it makes this stuff hit even harder. Like I’m not just reacting to what people show, I’m reacting to what I sense, too.
I get stuck in the loop like anyone else. Wondering if my progress means anything, or if I’m just slowly falling behind while everyone else is sprinting forward.
But every time I catch myself spiraling, I remind myself:
The only person I should be competing with is past me. Like in Need for Speed when I used to race against my ghost run.
That coworker who makes it look easy?
Probably loses sleep over stuff you’ll never see.
That friend traveling the world?
Might be running from something.
The cousin who has it all together?
They’re posting wins and hiding their hell just like everybody else.
Social stuff makes my brain spiral.
If you are anything like me, social gatherings are brutal.
Nothing hits quite like walking into a room full of people and immediately feeling like a pile of underachieving goo.
You start noticing everything.
Who got a new job.
Who lost weight.
And most importantly: who’s smiling too hard.
Every expression, every gesture, every shift in tone, being on the spectrum, my brain catches it all.
It is not always as helpful as one may think, if I do say so myself.
I don’t just walk into a room and feel awkward.
I walk in and feel everything at once.
And in all of that fuzz, you forget everyone else is doing the same thing.
Just quieter.
We’re all performing a little.
We’re all fighting invisible battles and trying to look like we’re not.
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I've always been loud for other people, but I still wonder why it’s not me.
I'm not bitter. I genuinely cheer for people. Like, loudly. I love seeing people win. But still, that little thought creeps in:
Why not me?
I used to be that kid. The one who got picked, who nailed the solo, who showed up and made it look easy.
That lasted until middle of high school, when I kind of... disappeared.
I pulled out of stuff.
Stopped signing up.
Got louder in the wrong ways and quieter in the ways that used to open doors.
I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and play along.
Honestly, I didn’t want to.
So now, when someone else shines, it doesn’t feel like theft, it just makes me wonder:
Did I stop showing up for myself a long time ago?
Did I leave the stage and forget how to get back on it?
But success doesn’t come with a time limit.
People killing it now?
They’ve been grinding in silence for years.
That thing you’re building that nobody sees yet?
It matters.
It counts.
Even if no one claps.
Comparison messes with your whole system.
Comparison doesn’t just make you feel like crap.
It screws with your timeline.
It distorts your wins.
You probably learned to do this as a kid.
You see someone else's success and suddenly everything you’ve done feels small.
You forget they probably failed ten times before they got that moment.
Then you stall. You wait. You tell yourself not to move unless you can do it flawlessly.
But you won't.
And that's fine.
Perfect is fake.
Progress is real.
Even when it’s messy.
Especially when it’s messy.
I had to stop looking around and look at myself.
What finally helped?
I turned the mirror back around. And not in a self-centered way, but in a this is your life, show up for it kind of way.
I stopped trying to win a race I didn’t sign up for, and started tracking my growth.
You can still root for people. You should. But don’t let their story override your own.
You don’t need a crowd to prove you’re moving. Quiet wins still count. The only thing that really matters is becoming someone you recognize. Someone you’re proud of.
Not someone who just looks impressive from the outside.
You’re not behind.
You’re not broken.
You’re not failing.
You’re just remembering who you are.
Resources: If you want more on this, Gary’s got a solid piece worth checking out that the quote in this post is from: It’s Time You Stop Comparing Yourself To What You See On Instagram.
Totally related to this excellent post