A Basic Recipe for Jealous Comparison
- 1 object of comparison
- 1 jealous thought
- 1 drain on your self-confidence
- A pinch of myopic vision
The most physically painful experience of my adult life was having an IUD inserted. I will neither gross you out nor bore you with details, except to mention that I found it so painful that the next day my groin muscles were incredibly sore from having clenched my thighs into wobbly submission during the procedure. Just happy to have it over with, I didn’t think much of the experience at the time. But in a recent yoga class, I saw something more profound in how I tightened against the pain. (read more…)
Yesterday, I left work forty minutes later than normal because of a last minute effort to accomplish work I’d avoided during the day. Finally, I called it quits and walked to my train station to head home.
“You didn’t do anything today!” a voice in my head cried out, “you’re terrible.” I wallowed in that voice, the voice of my Inner Critic, and agreed.
We all have an inner critic: the voice in our head that says the mean, unhelpful things. My inner critic looks like me, but with a pinched nose and a tight bun. She’s very proper; I imagine her in a tight pencil skirt that doesn’t allow her to take long strides. Instead, she teeters around on high heeled pumps (shoes I would never wear, for the record), and wrinkles her nose at people. She is the type that shushes other people at the movies. (read more…)
In high school, my friend Seth figured out how to work the system to his advantage. We attended a large public school where we, as students, had little control over our own fates. We were given a schedule of classes each semester that was more or less written in stone. The programming office would refuse any changes other than clear and blatant errors. Seth, however, took matters into his own hands. Each semester, he would volunteer for the programming office for a few days. In exchange, he’d gain the power to alter his own schedule. He’d pick classes with the best teachers and with friends, and give himself first period off. Sometimes he’d do favors for friends (and especially for the girl he was interested in).
Despite sometimes benefiting from Seth’s maneuvering, it infuriated me. It felt like cheating. I was angry that he was above the rules that governed the rest of us. At the time, I only thought of it as an irritating, and perhaps arrogant, side of his personality. It is only with quite a bit more perspective and life experience that I recognize Seth’s maneuvering as instructive on how to find the ways through and around obstacles– a lesson in confidence. (read more…)
In New York City, there is a company called Seriatim that negotiates life transitions. For a fee, someone will come to your home after a divorce, the death of a partner or parent, or as you prepare to move to a smaller home. That person will talk through your transition, arrange logistics, and help you dispose of the things you no longer need. They will help you pare down art collections, and talk you into letting go of your ex-husband’s college sweatshirt or your late mother’s silver letter knife. When I heard about this service from a friend who works there part time, I began fantasizing about what it would be like to be rich and bereaved, and to give over some of life’s difficult decisions to a paid professional.
Seven years ago, I went through a transitional period that rocked me deeply and surprisingly. While working in political organizing in San Francisco, I decided to get an MFA in creative writing. I’d wanted to get one since graduating college, and had been accepted the year before, but I deferred for a year because I hadn’t felt ready to leave my work in San Francisco. But then I felt ready. Shortly after making that decision, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. I had to tell my colleagues that I would be taking leave for surgery and follow-up treatment—and then would be leaving for good soon after. (read more…)