Oh how true it is that ‘comparison is the thief of joy.’ I, like many people, am often to be found with my phone close to hand. Given a spare minute or two I find myself, more often than not, reaching for my phone and idly scrolling through social media sites; Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and reading through my Bloglovin’ feed.
Whilst this doesn’t sound too horrific, it becomes more of an issue when it happens regularly. Definitely too regularly in my case.
I find myself whiling away the time looking through images and hearing about others’, more perfect, lives. Now I’m not a stupid woman, I’m well aware these posts are edited to within an inch of their lives to only show that perfection. I can’t however stop myself from comparing myself to them.
My living room which is filled with trinkets and vintage knick knacks (and is definitely overdue a hoovering) doesn’t look like the immaculate white Pinterest-worthy offerings. My thick, frizzy hair doesn’t compare to the shiny, sleek tresses presented on screen. My wardrobe is filled with one too many stripey items (and, if I’m honest, a bit of broken glass from a nail polish based incident earlier this week.) It doesn’t look immaculate with designer items sitting side by side in a colour coded manner.
If I force myself to step back I know that I’m happy with my cluttered, less than perfect life. I just need to remind myself of that when I get sucked into the comparison trap.
I need my internal voice to give me a kick up the arse on occasion, to tell me to, “Pick up a book, Rebecca. Stop comparing yourself to others, you’re doing just fine.”
And I am. Bloody online comparison, it sucks me in every time!
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