Comparison is the thief of joy

I've heard it. You've heard it. We all know it.

But I realized something just this morning.

I'd only thought of this as comparing yourself to another person. Never once did I entertain the idea of comparing me to myself (past, present, or future) as a thing. Much less, a not great thing.

This quote came to mind this morning when I was weighed down by the writing goals I'd set for myself; namely, to write at the speed I did in November 2020. That was when I "won" National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) by writing 50K in November.

It should be "easier," I told myself. I don't have PILLAR. My son is back in school. My husband is working out of the house (There were a couple days where he was working from our dining room table, while I was writing from our couch that month.)

\All of those things are true. But it doesn't mean that writing 50K now is the same or *should* be the same as it was then.

I'm in a different headspace. My chronic illnesses have been flaring. I'm lower on energy now than I was then. I feel, in many ways, like a different person.

I can't compare current me to November 2020 me.

Why?

If I do, I won't be able to appreciate the accomplishment made by past me, because I'll be thinking that current me should accomplish at least as much.

If I do, I won't be able to appreciate current me's wins. I'd spend too much time thinking, "200 words? That's nothing. in 2020, I wrote 3000 words or more a day. I had to. I had other stuff going on. I made it work. You should too."

And there it is. "I had to."

I "had to" because I set this goal during a month I knew would be busy, not only with writing, but also with PILLAR, a digital military spouse retreat, with Thanksgiving, and just regular life things like cooking, cleaning, and laundry.

I met that goal because I wanted it, yes, but also because I was stubborn. I started to feel the exhaustion, but I didn't listen to it. It didn't matter to me. All that mattered was that print-out certificate, the pre-purchased t-shirt and the metaphorical pat on the back, of writing the manuscript.

\

(OK, most of a manuscript. I hit 50K before November was out, but the story wasn't finished.)

And now as I'm back to writing, it's important for me to recognize that it isn't healthy to just ignore my body because I want to write.

So there's this fundamental difference between that NaNo, and right now: I'm trying to make choices that work for me long-term, rather than a one-off stint.

So really, there is no comparison to make. And I won't push myself to write 3K a day. I'll write however many words I can. When I can.

Do you struggle with comparison, whether to others or to yourself? How do you combat it?