The Trap Of Comparison

The Trap We've Been Trapped In: Why Comparison Isn't the Enemy, But How We Use It Is

I remember Eleanor. She was 82, her hands resting lightly on the quilt covering her thin frame, her eyes tracing the dust motes dancing in the late afternoon sun filtering through the Vermont window. We’d been talking about her grandchildren, their lives unfolding in cities she’d never seen. "I used to compare my quiet life here to their shiny careers," she whispered, her voice like dry leaves. "Thought I’d failed because I didn’t have their things." Her daughter, visiting that afternoon, had just shared a photo on her phone of a grandchild’s sleek apartment. Eleanor hadn’t looked at it. She’d looked at her own hands, then at the wildflowers growing stubbornly through cracks in the garden path outside. "Now," she said, her voice gaining a quiet strength, "I see the life I had. Not the life I thought I should have." That moment, sitting with her in the quiet hum of the hospice room, taught me something profound: comparison isn’t the trap. The trap is believing we must always be measuring ourselves against a standard that isn’t ours to carry.

The Common Trap: Why We Feel So Stuck

Let’s be honest. The warning about comparison’s dangers is not wrong. It’s deeply, painfully true. I sat with countless people in their final days who carried the heavy, invisible weight of a life spent measuring against others. I saw it in the eyes of a man who’d spent decades chasing a corporate title his father had, only to realize too late he’d missed his children’s childhoods. I heard it in the quiet sigh of a woman who’d spent her 40s believing she was "less than" her more socially active friends, never noticing the deep, quiet joy she found in tending her garden, a joy that had sustained her through her own grief.

Social media, of course, amplifies this. It’s a curated highlight reel, a relentless parade of other people’s perfect moments – the exotic vacations, the flawless family gatherings, the seemingly effortless success. We scroll, we feel the familiar pang of "not enough," and we know it’s not real. But the feeling is real. It’s the echo of a childhood message: You’re not as good as them. This kind of comparison doesn’t just breed dissatisfaction; it erodes the very ground beneath our feet, making it hard to feel grounded in our own reality, our own worth.

Here’s what I’ve learned: The problem isn’t the act of noticing someone else’s path. The problem is the narrative we attach to it: "They have it, I don’t. Therefore, I am lacking." This narrative is the trap. It’s a story we tell ourselves that keeps us stuck in the past, looking at someone else’s map while ignoring the unique terrain of our own journey.

Reframing the Compass: Comparison as a Tool for Navigation

What if, instead of seeing comparison as a trap to avoid, we saw it as a compass to use? Not a compass pointing to where we fall short, but one pointing to where we might grow – if we choose to look.

Eleanor’s shift wasn’t about suddenly feeling "better" than her grandchild. It was about shifting the direction of her gaze. She stopped asking, "Why don’t I have their life?" and started asking, "What did I build here? What did I nurture?" That’s the subtle, powerful shift. It’s not about tearing down our worth; it’s about building a clearer, more honest picture of where we are and where we might want to go.

Let me give you a specific example from my hospice days. There was a young woman, Maya, in her late 20s, diagnosed with a rare illness. She was fiercely intelligent, working in tech, but felt perpetually "behind" her peers who seemed to have their careers and relationships perfectly mapped out. One afternoon, she was scrolling through LinkedIn, her face tight with frustration. "Look at them," she said, her voice tight. "They’re all getting promotions, buying houses... I feel like I’m just... stuck." I sat quietly for a moment, the silence holding space for her pain. Then I asked, gently: "Maya, when you see someone else’s promotion, what’s the first thing you notice in yourself?" She paused, surprised. "I notice I’m not there yet," she admitted. "I notice I’m not as good." I nodded. "What if," I suggested, "instead of noticing where you’re not, you noticed what you are doing? Like, what skill did that person actually demonstrate that you admire? Not the title, but the thing they did."

She thought for a moment. "Well... I saw her lead that big project. She was really good at breaking down complex problems." "Ah," I said. "So, that’s a skill you could practice. Not to be like her, but to be more like the best version of yourself who can break down complex problems." The shift was small, but it was there. She stopped seeing her peer’s success as a judgment of her own worth, and started seeing it as information about a skill she might want to develop. It didn’t erase her frustration, but it gave her a direction to move, not just a feeling of being stuck.

What if we just... sat with that for a moment? What if we stopped trying to fix the feeling of comparison and instead observed it? Notice the tightness in your chest when you see a friend’s vacation photo. Notice the thought: "They have it, I don’t." Then, without judgment, ask: "What is this feeling trying to tell me? Is it a sign I want to learn something? Or is it a sign I’m comparing to a standard that doesn’t serve me?"

Practical Steps: Using Comparison as a Compass, Not a Cage

This isn’t just theory. It’s a practice. Here’s how to start using comparison mindfully, with the gentle guidance of someone who’s sat with the hardest questions:

1. The Comparison Audit (Do this once a week): When you notice yourself comparing (scrolling, hearing a friend’s news, seeing a social media post), pause. Don’t judge yourself for feeling it. Just write down:

      Who am I comparing myself to?*
      What specific thing am I comparing? (Not "their life," but "their new car," "their promotion," "their seemingly perfect family dinner")*
      What feeling arises? (Envy? Inadequacy? Boredom?)*
      What is this actually telling me about my own desires or needs? (Not "I need that car," but "I need more stability in my finances," or "I need to prioritize family time")*

   Example: Seeing a friend’s post about a weekend trip: Comparing to: Sarah. Specific thing: Weekend trip to the mountains. Feeling: Envy. What it tells me: I crave adventure and connection with friends, but I haven’t scheduled it. Action: Block time for a hike with a friend next week.

2. Shift the Question: Instead of "Why don’t I have that?" ask "What skill or quality did they demonstrate that I admire?" Focus on the action or trait, not the outcome. This is the key reframing. It moves you from lack to possibility.

3. Practice "And": When you notice a comparison, add "And..." instead of "But." "I see Sarah’s trip, and I’m grateful for my quiet weekend with my dog." This acknowledges the comparison without letting it negate your own reality. It’s a tiny act of self-compassion.

4. Limit the Comparison Fuel: Be intentional about your media consumption. Unfollow accounts that consistently make you feel inadequate. Mute the "highlight reel" feeds. Curate your digital space to reflect your values, not someone else’s curated life.

Common Pitfalls: When Comparison Becomes Toxic

Even with the best intentions, comparison can go sideways. Here’s what to watch for:

The "Superiority Trap": Comparing to feel better than someone else ("At least I’m not struggling like them"). This is just as damaging as the "inadequacy trap." It isolates you and prevents genuine connection. Hospice insight:* I saw this in a man who’d spent his life putting others down to feel powerful. In his final days, he realized he’d never truly connected with anyone. The comparison wasn’t about growth; it was about armor. It’s okay to not be okay with feeling superior. It’s a sign you’re not seeing yourself clearly. The Comparison Spiral: Noticing a comparison and then spiraling into "I’ll never be good enough." This is the trap we started with. Hospice insight: The dying often spoke of this spiral as the thing that kept them from living fully before they got sick. They’d say, "I was so busy trying to be like them, I forgot to be me." What if we just... sat with that for a moment? The spiral is a sign to pause, breathe, and ask the compass question, not the trap* question. Ignoring Your Own Path: Using comparison to avoid looking at your own life. "They’re successful, so I must be doing something wrong." This is the opposite of growth. It’s a way to stay stuck. Hospice insight: The most peaceful people I sat with weren’t those who had the most, but those who had stopped comparing and started living their* unique life, however small it seemed.

The Deeper Truth: Comparison is a Mirror, Not a Measure

This is the heart of it, the truth I learned from sitting with the dying: Comparison isn’t about other people. It’s about us. When we compare, we’re not really looking at them; we’re looking at ourselves through a distorted lens. We’re asking, "Am I measuring up?" But the question we should be asking is, "What does my life need to feel whole?"

The dying taught me that life isn’t about accumulating more to prove we’re enough. It’s about recognizing the enoughness we already carry, even in the messy, ordinary moments. The quiet joy of a dog sleeping at your feet. The deep breath after a hard day. The simple act of tending a garden, like Eleanor did. These aren’t less than a fancy vacation or a big promotion. They are different. They are ours.

Here’s what I’ve learned: The most profound growth doesn’t come from trying to be like someone else. It comes from honoring who you are, right now, and then asking, "What small step can I take from here?" That’s the compass. It points inward, not outward. It says, "Your path is unique. Start where you are."

Conclusion: Choosing to Live in Your Own Light

We don’t have to live in the shadow of comparison. We don’t have to believe the lie that our worth is tied to someone else’s success. The dying taught me that the most sacred moments aren’t found in the grand achievements, but in the quiet acceptance of this moment, this life, this path.

So, the next time you feel that familiar pang of comparison, pause. Breathe. Ask the compass question: "What skill or quality do I admire here? What does this actually tell me about my life?" Don’t rush to fix the feeling. Sit with it. It’s okay to not be okay. And then, gently, take that small step from where you are.

The trap isn’t comparison. The trap is believing we have to be someone else to be worthy. The freedom is realizing we’re already enough, exactly as we are, and that our path is uniquely ours to walk. That’s the truth the dying showed me. That’s the truth I carry with me, sitting with the quiet hum of the Vermont woods, with my rescue dogs curled at my feet.

— Kyle Smith, sitting with what's hard