The Thief of Joy

There’s a saying that goes, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” Growing up, I struggled with comparison so much that I always felt that what I did was not enough. It started off academically, with marks and percentages in school, where I would often compare my grades to those of my peers. As we all know, there will always be that one neighbor bragging about her kids’ achievements to our parents, and this made my self-esteem plummet. Moving forward, as I grew into adolescence, I wrestled with my body image. I felt like I was too big or too fat for my age, even though that was clearly just my hormones in a developing stage. This pressure only intensified as I became more aware of societal standards of beauty, and I found myself constantly measuring my worth against unrealistic ideals. It did not end there; after I finished my schooling, I faced heartache that shattered my already fragile self-image, leaving me feeling like I had fallen into a hollow pothole. I used to think that I needed to be the best wherever I was or in whichever field I was in, putting immense pressure on myself to excel. When clearly, it’s not always possible to be at the top; life is more about the journey than the destination. The majority of the time, I would underestimate myself and my capabilities due to my self-doubt, which was a relentless shadow that followed me everywhere. I would strive for perfection instead of taking a moment to celebrate what I actually did and the progress I made, often forgetting that every small step counts. It took me years to be okay with not being the smartest, the brightest, the prettiest one in the room that i walked into, enabling me to be  humble enough to learn from the best.