Theodore Roosvelt
Comparison is the thief of joy
“I’m really happy for you!”
“That’s amazing!”
“Congratulations! You’ve worked so hard.”
“You deserve it.”
Over the month of March, as college decisions came piling in, I couldn’t count the number of times I said those words. It’s that moment, when someone’s body language relaxes, their eyes light up, and they begin to jump for joy as confetti drops from their application portal. It’s the moment that someone gets into their dream school, when war is over, when everything they’ve done for the past four years has culminated in fabulous success. In each and every celebration, I’ve genuinely meant everything I’ve expressed; these are my closest friends, and I am endlessly proud and happy for them.
But, that moment never came for me.
I was naive. I knew that college wasn’t going to define me, that college admissions was a random, insane process in which things just don’t end up making much sense. I knew in my head that “everything works out in the end,” “everything happens for a reason,” and all the other condolences people offer. I had an innate self-awareness that it would be okay either way. I’d already gotten into a few schools I was really happy to attend, I had pride and confidence in myself; a “no” from my ideal university wasn’t going to change that. How bad could it really be? Armed with an inspiring, philosophical outlook, I thought I would write my next column in April and we would laugh together about how “rejection is redirection.”
So, when my dream school’s decision came out, I was anxious, but ready. No matter what happened, I told myself, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I walked out of my fourth-period class, thinking I would return minutes later, with either a dramatic, elated reaction, or a somber smile and a witty comment. No. My shoulders were still tense, my eyes were cast downwards, and no confetti fell, just disappointed, agonizing tears.
I know. I know. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it hurt. It hurt like hell. Crap. I worked so hard. I tried so hard. I cared so much. Are you kidding me? I don’t care if it was a game of chance, I deserved to win! Emotions came pouring out of me. I tried to go back inside to calm myself, but the look I was given by everyone — pity. I wanted to scream. Don’t give me that. I can’t handle that. Worse than a rejection, I was waitlisted. My dream school put me on the waitlist. Do you know what that means? I was good enough. I was qualified. I deserved to be admitted. But, there were people better than me, who deserved it more. So, even though all of us may have had wonderful passions, marvelous experiences, and excellent academics, well, I’m not special. I’m not enough. I’m not the only one who wants this, needs this acceptance; everybody does.
I compared. What did the other applicants have that I didn’t? What did my friends have that gave them the right, the opportunity, to their dreams and to leave me behind? It was so easy for me to devolve, reaching into the past and trying to contemplate what more could I have done (there goes all I learned from stoicism) and what others did instead that led them to this point. It kept nagging me. What was I lacking?
It’s true then that “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I used to have so much enthusiasm for what I had individually accomplished, and yet, the moment I turned away from myself and toward other people and their successes, I began to feel absolutely crushed. Inherently, as well, I became this horrible, calculating person who blamed others, claiming they were undeserving compared to me. And yet, I knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It wasn’t my fault.
What they don’t tell you though, is that this comparison is human nature. It’s inevitable. And, nothing will change that, nothing will ever stop that creeping sense of jealousy and insecurity. So, I’ll let myself feel it for now, embracing the sadness and well, anger. But, I will be okay.
Eventually.
Just not now.
