A friend was (rhetorically) asking, “Why do I even care?”
I told him I’m guilty of it too. Comparing myself irresponsibly, recklessly, pointlessly, etc. It’s like the shame and frustration are so insurmountable.
Instead of permission to walk away, it feels like a rejection. Like a rejection letter. Or getting a test back with an F.
While we were going back and forth about how it feels, he said he wanted a better question than, “Why.” I offered, “What do I even know?”
Now, just think about that for a second.
What do I even know?
Emphasis on the I, emphasis on the know.
We talked through it. The core and often simple truths behind the comparison we’re making – they’re what defines whether or not we care. A layer deeper, there’s a reflection on if we should bother to care at all.
Fancier house, or cooler car, or more money in the 401k? Stop comparing. Good for them, good for you.
Why care without reducing it back to our choices? Why care without reducing it back to what we know? We’re the only ones who can say what makes us happy and why – the comparison is us giving it away.
There’s solace in knowing we all do it. We all feel behind or wrong or off. It’s scary to admit it’s a choice.
Good thing for good friends.
Why do I care?
What do I know?