Sometimes the biggest obstacle isn’t failure—it’s the invisible scoreboard we carry in our heads.
For years, comparison was my quiet addiction.
I didn’t always admit it to myself, but it was there—in the way I’d scroll through LinkedIn late at night, wondering why my peers were climbing ladders faster than me.
It was there when I’d walk into a friend’s new home and mentally calculate the square footage compared to my modest apartment.
And it was definitely there when I tried to measure my happiness against the curated highlight reels I saw on Instagram.
The comparisons weren’t loud. They whispered. They said, “You’re behind.” They said, “Look how far she’s gotten.” They said, “Why haven’t you done more?”
And every time I listened, I ended up shrinking into myself, convinced I wasn’t enough.
Comparison has this tricky way of feeling productive, as if measuring yourself against others will give you a benchmark to aim for.
But for me, it only drained energy. Instead of moving forward with my own goals, I wasted hours rerunning other people’s progress like a movie I wasn’t cast in.
What finally set me free wasn’t an overnight epiphany. It was a series of experiments, small realizations, and one particular book that nudged me into questioning everything I thought I knew about self-worth.
Realizing the trap I’d built for myself
The turning point came one morning over coffee. I had opened my journal, ready to make a list of tasks, when instead I found myself writing down all the names of people I compared myself to.
Colleagues. Friends. Even acquaintances I barely spoke to but somehow gave space to in my mental scoreboard. The page looked ridiculous—like I was competing in a race no one else had signed up for.
That exercise forced me to see how much of my daily mental chatter wasn’t even about me. It was about them. Their choices. Their timelines. Their successes. In giving so much attention to their paths, I had left almost no room for my own.
Psychologists often describe comparison as a form of self-surveillance. We measure ourselves because we think it will give us clarity, but it often just sharpens insecurity.
When I looked honestly at my own patterns, I realized the comparisons weren’t motivating me. They were immobilizing me.
The irony was painful: I had been so focused on keeping up that I’d actually stalled my own growth.
Letting go of perfection
One of the hardest beliefs I carried was that there was a “perfect” trajectory—an invisible checklist that I had to match up with if I wanted to be considered successful. The perfect job. The perfect savings account. The perfect body. The perfect relationship.
But perfection is slippery. Each time I thought I was close, someone else’s life popped up as evidence that I hadn’t done enough. It was exhausting.
The shift came when I stumbled across Rudá Iandê’s book Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life. His insights challenged me to stop fighting myself and start questioning the invisible rules I was living by.
One line landed especially hard: “When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that’s delightfully real.”
I had been chasing flawless benchmarks, only to discover they weren’t even mine. That quote gave me permission to shift the focus: instead of trying to match someone else’s polished version of success, I could pay attention to what felt real for me—even if it looked messy from the outside.
Redefining freedom
What comparison robs us of, more than anything, is agency. When you’re constantly measuring yourself against others, your sense of choice shrinks. You become reactive, shaping your goals to fit external molds instead of internal needs.
Freedom, I realized, wasn’t about outrunning everyone else. It was about choosing what mattered to me and letting that be enough.
For me, that meant building a simpler morning routine, even if it didn’t look as “optimized” as the productivity gurus promised.
It meant letting myself experiment with writing projects that might never become profitable, but still gave me joy.
It meant finding contentment in small wins instead of waiting for some massive milestone to validate my worth.
There are still moments when comparison creeps back in—it’s human. But the difference is, I catch it now. I remind myself: I don’t need to rehearse someone else’s highlight reel. I can live my own.
Final words
If you’re stuck in the trap of comparison, know this: you don’t need to win a race you never agreed to run.
You don’t need to carry a measuring stick around, constantly checking if you measure up.
And you definitely don’t need to build your sense of self on someone else’s timeline.
The freedom comes when you stop asking, “Am I doing as well as them?” and start asking, “Am I living in alignment with what matters to me?”
Comparison isn’t destiny. It’s a habit. And like any habit, it can be broken.
When you let go of perfection, release the scoreboard, and lean into the messy, complex richness of your own path, you don’t just set yourself free—you discover a kind of happiness that doesn’t require keeping score at all.
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