I've always been the competitive type.
It started when I was a kid.
Video games,
Sports,
School,
Even at work,
I wanted to be the best.
To win.
And for a long time,
That drive pushed me forward.
But as I moved through my 30s and 40s,
I started to realize something.
I was still competing.
Not in a way that made sense.
There was no finish line.
No scoreboard.
I wasn't competing against anyone real.
It was all in my head.
Why do my friends have bigger homes than me?
Why do they have more wealth,
Nicer cars,
Extravagant vacations?
Why does it all seem like their lives are easier?
The comparisons were endless.
And the worst part?
They weren't even happening out loud.
It was just me,
In my own mind,
Making myself feel small,
Frustrated,
Less than.
And that's when I came across the words of Theodore Roosevelt.
Comparison is the thief of joy.
It stuck with me because I could feel the truth in it.
Every time I compared,
I wasn't appreciating what I had.
I was taking something neutral,
Even something good,
And turning it into a problem just by measuring it against someone else's life.
And I'm not alone in this.
Research shows that constant comparison can have a real impact on our mental well-being.
Studies in psychology and neuroscience reveals that social comparison triggers the brain's reward system,
Making us crave validation.
But when we don't measure up,
It activates areas linked to stress and anxiety instead.
And social media has only amplified this.
Platforms designed to show curated,
Filtered versions of reality leave many of us feeling like we're falling behind.
Maybe you've felt this way too,
Scrolling through your feed and seeing someone post about their dream vacation while you're still sitting at home.
Or watching a coworker get promoted and wondering if you're stuck in the same place.
Seeing a friend in a happy relationship and asking yourself why you haven't found anyone yet.
Or,
You're comparing your parenting,
Your looks,
Your body,
Your achievements,
Feeling like you're never quite enough.
Comparison sneaks into our lives in many ways.
And the more we let it in,
The more it steals.
Today,
I want to take you on a journey.
A story that reveals just how much comparison takes from us.
And why the only way to truly shine is to embrace the light that's already yours.
Take a deep breath in.
And out.
Now close your eyes and imagine.
You're standing in a vast,
Open meadow.
The night air is warm and still.
A soft breeze moves through the tall grass.
And the sky stretches endlessly above.
Deep,
Velvety,
Black,
Dotted with stars.
All around you,
Tiny little flickers.
Fireflies.
Some glow brightly,
Steady and strong.
Others pulse gently,
Fading in and out like whispers of light.
Each one unique,
Moving its own rhythm.
And then,
You notice one firefly sitting alone on a leaf.
For a moment,
You become her.
You sit quietly,
Wings folded,
Watching as the other fireflies dance through the sky.
Their lights shine bold and bright.
You try to glow,
But your light feels small,
Uneven,
Not enough.
Why can't I shine like they do?
You wonder.
A sound shifts in the grass nearby.
You turn and see a fox watching you,
His golden fur glowing softly in the moonlight.
His eyes are calm,
Knowing.
You seem troubled,
He says.
You hesitate.
But something about him feels safe.
I just don't feel like I belong.
Look at them,
You say,
Monitoring to the others.
They glow so effortlessly.
My light barely makes a difference.
The fox tilts his head thoughtfully.
And who told you that your glow had to look like theirs?
You pause.
Well,
No one.
But isn't that the point?
To shine as bright as possible?
The fox smiles,
Steps closer.
Come with me.
You follow him through the meadow until you reach a quiet pond tucked between the trees.
The water is still,
Smooth like glass,
Reflecting the night sky above.
The fox gestures towards the surface.
Look!
You hover closer,
Peering into the water.
And there,
Rippling in the reflection,
You see your own light,
Dancing in the surface,
Shifting and shimmering into light,
Delicate patterns.
The fox speaks gently.
Your light moves differently.
It doesn't flood the sky.
But look at what it does here.
It ripples.
It reflects.
It adds something no one else can.
You watch the way your glow stretches across the water,
Blending with the moon's reflection,
Creating something entirely new.
I've never noticed that before,
You whisper.
That's because you're too busy looking up,
Measuring yourself against others,
When all along your light is making its own kind of beauty,
Right here.
A quiet understanding settles in.
But what if it's still not enough,
You ask?
The fox chuckles.
Enough for who?
For them?
Or for you?
You stare at the water a little longer.
And then,
For the first time,
You stop trying to shine like the others.
You just be.
You rest in the knowledge that your light,
Just as it is,
Has a place in this world.
And so,
As you return to yourself,
Sitting in your own space,
With your own breath,
I ask you this.
Have you been looking up,
Measuring yourself against others,
Without noticing the quiet beauty of your own glow?
Have you been telling yourself that you need more,
Without stopping to ask,
More for who?
What if,
Just for today,
You let go of needing to compare,
And simply allow yourself to be?
Take another deep breath in,
And out.
And when you open your eyes,
Step back into this world,
With this thought.
My light is my own.
It doesn't need to be the brightest.
It just needs to be mine.
The universe is waiting to see your glow.
