Comparison robs you of joy

This phrase has been on my mind ever since I heard it during a sermon a few weeks ago. “Comparison robs you of joy.”

Here is a quick example: Know the feeling you have after you thumb through a magazine filled with gorgeous, slender, worldly, presumably wealthy women? Women in expensive clothes, drinking expensive drinks, sharing jokes with chiseled gentlemen who also possess shockingly-white teeth? You feel “less than.” You feel un-beautiful. You might even feel unfulfilled, unloved. Comparison robs you of joy.

I realized (once again) that magazines=depression at the salon where I had gone to get a haircut and, therefore, feel better about my appearance. Going to the salon is a huge treat! But ten minutes into the magazine I started feeling hopeless. Even the best haircut in the world wouldn’t make me look like Charlize Theron. Comparison robs you of joy.

Another example: My mom treated my sister and I to a fancy-home tour during the Christmas season. For a fee, you are allowed entry into these insanely beautiful, spacious homes decorated to the hilt for the holidays. Think: crackling fires in imported Italian fireplaces. They smell like leather and Balsam fir. I’ve always enjoyed interior design and architecture. But when I returned home, our house (which I love) looked drab and dated. Our Christmas tree looked chintzy. Nothing was shiny or historic. All I could see were the stains on the couch and chipped dishes in the sink. I felt pouty because we don’t have guest quarters. Comparison robs you of joy.
 
It’s so obvious. Yet we compare. Unwittingly. We compare every single day.

The sermon examined Matthew 20:1-16, also referred to as the “Workers in the Vineyard” story. https://bible.org/seriespage/workers-vineyard-matthew-201-16

To sum it up: A landowner gathered and employed men to work in his vineyards for the day – some began their day early, some began their toil much later. Yet, the boss paid everyone the same wage when the day was over. The ones who had worked the longest grumbled saying they had been treated unjustly even though they were compensated with the agreed-upon amount. It became “unfair” when they learned how much the generous landowner paid their cohorts. Comparison robs you of joy.

How do we stop comparing? How can we rid ourselves of the sour taste of envy? Is it as simple as gratitude? Or flat-out avoidance? If the homes of the rich and famous leave you feeling blue, take a tour on the other side of town, or, don't go. Sick of chicken nuggets (again) for dinner? Serve a meal for people who rarely get a hot meal. Read The Glass Castle, a memoir by Jeanette Walls, about her (and her siblings’) childhood, fending for themselves, picking through garbage to survive. Don’t read Glamour or Us Weekly. Don’t spend too much time at the gym, or worse, the pool at the gym, where it seems everybody is eyeing each other in a silent “who-is-the-fittest?” contest. Are the walls really lined with mirrors so we can check out our form? Or to measure ourselves against the others?

I’m going to start by recognizing comparison when it creeps in and calling it out. Keep the phrase handy in your mind: “Comparison robs you of joy.” Humans will never stop comparing. But we can put our inner brats in timeout. Then open the door wide for gratitude and joy.