Comparison Trap Quotes

He towered over her, as intense and savage as only he could be, making her feel small and delicate in comparison, surrounded by his utter maleness. She felt trapped and she wanted to stay in his cage forever.

The facts of nature are what they are, but we can only view them through the spectacles of our mind. Our mind works largely by metaphor and comparison, not always (or often) by relentless logic. When we are caught in conceptual traps, the best exit is often a change in metaphor — not because the new guideline will be truer to nature (for neither the old nor the new metaphor lies “out there” in the woods), but because we need a shift to more fruitful perspectives, and metaphor is often the best agent of conceptual transition.

Forest air is the epitome of healthy air. People who want to take a deep breath of fresh air or engage in physical activity in a particularly agreeable atmosphere step out into the forest. There's every reason to do so. The air truly is considerably cleaner under the trees, because the trees act as huge air filters. Their leaves and needles hang in a steady breeze, catching large and small particles as they float by. Per year and square mile this can amount to 20,000 tons of material. Trees trap so much because their canopy presents such a large surface area. In comparison with a meadow of a similar size, the surface area of the forest is hundreds of times larger, mostly because of the size difference between trees and grass. The filtered particles contain not only pollutants such as soot but also pollen and dust blown up from the ground. It is the filtered particles from human activity, however, that are particularly harmful. Acids, toxic hydrocarbons, and nitrogen compounds accumulate in the trees like fat in the filter of an exhaust fan above a kitchen stove. But not only do trees filter materials out of the air, they also pump substances into it. They exchange scent-mails and, of course, pump out phytoncides, both of which I have already mentioned.

Edward had once felt that a vineyard rolling up a mountainside over which the sun was setting was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen, but now that memory paled in comparison to the transcendent garden of life bursting forth down below.

Do not fall into the terrible trap of thinking that life depends on money and that, in comparison with money, anything else is devoid of value or dignity. This is nothing but an illusion! We cannot take money with us into the life beyond. Money does not bring us happiness.

Her entire face lights up like a solar flare. She shines so brightly that everything else pales in comparison. I feel helplessly trapped in her magnetic field, so close to the sun I might burst into flames.

God cares more about us abiding by His commandments and loving big—feeling deeply alive and free from the traps of perfection and comparison. He’s watching us scurry about, saying, “Sweet girls, why are you so hard on yourselves? All this worry and busyness is for what? I’ve given you all you need.

There is nothing quite as painful as a truly awkward silence. If you have fallen in love and you tell the object of your affection how you feel and she simply stares at you, the air still and empty, that's awkward. Perhaps you finally get up the nerve to ask your boss for a raise and after you master the courage to blurt out your request he lets it hang there in the open air. This can be an awkward silence as well. But for some reason both these examples pale in comparison to the kind of uncomfortable silence a person might experience when trapped in the stomach of a colossal snake, miles under ground, where there is nothing but total darkness and the sound of your own self taking your final hot breathes of musty, stale air, after you've just heard the news that the one person who you believe could save you just because he is so big and powerful is hiding out in the pocket of a friend as a . . . toothpick

But Lucy had been alone too much of her life, and in her loneliness she had constructed a vision of what a perfect relationship would look like. Love, in her imagination, was so dazzling, so tender and unconditional, that anything human seemed impossibly thin by comparison. Lucy's loneliness was breathtaking in its enormity...she was trapped in a room full of mirrors, and every direction she looked in she saw herself, her face, her loneliness. She couldn't see that no one else was perfect either, and that so much of love was the work of it. She had worked on everything else. Love would have to be charmed.

The Devil wants me to fill my emptiness with an unhealthy dependence on the acceptance of others. Because then he can get me so focused on the shallow opinions of others I get completely distracted from deepening my relationship with Christ. And in the process is my masked boasting pulling others into the crazy comparison traps that lures them away from Christ as well? It’s all such an unhealthy cycle that’s never satisfying. And again, I’m not against social media but we do have to be so careful how we use it. Is it to bless others with encouragement and love or are we really just boasting on ourselves and feeding others’ unhealthy comparisons to us? One quick hop on social media, and you’ll see how careful we must be not to play right into the Devil’s schemes.

The only way we’ll break free from the comparison trap is by embracing who we are instead of trying to be who we’re not. So how do we start? First, trust that God made you just as He wanted you to be, and then be the best YOU. Discover and offer the unique personality traits God gave you to impact those around you.

I am the best that you can ever get, if you compare me to ME.

Please don't seek fuel for your sorrow by comparing yourself to me.

I’m not building a castle or a monument; I’m building a soul and a family. I’ll tell stories all my life, writing on napkins and on the backs of receipts, or in books if they let me, but this is the promise I make to my God: I will never again be so careless, so cavalier with the body and soul you’ve given me. They are the only things in all the world that have been entrusted entirely to me, and I stewarded them poorly, worshiping for a time at the altars of productivity, capability, busyness, distraction. This body and soul will become again what God intended them to be: living sacrifices, offered only to him. I will spend my life on meaning, on connection, on love, on freedom. I will not waste one more day trapped in comparison, competition, proving, and earning. That’s the currency of a culture that has nothing to offer me. It

The world – whatever we might think when terrified by its vastness and our own impotence, or embittered by its indifference to individual suffering, of people, animals, and perhaps even plants, for why are we so sure that plants feel no pain; whatever we might think of its expanses pierced by the rays of stars surrounded by planets we've just begun to discover, planets already dead? still dead? we just don’t know; whatever we might think of this measureless theater to which we've got reserved tickets, but tickets whose lifespan is laughably short, bounded as it is by two arbitrary dates; whatever else we might think of this world – it is astonishing. But ‘astonishing’ is an epithet concealing a logical trap. We’re astonished, after all, by things that deviate from some well-known and universally acknowledged norm, from an obviousness we've grown accustomed to. Now the point is, there is no such obvious world. Our astonishment exists per se and isn't based on comparison with something else. Granted, in daily speech, where we don’t stop to consider every word, we all use phrases like ‘the ordinary world,’ ‘ordinary life,’ ‘the ordinary course of events’ … But in the language of poetry, where every word is weighed, nothing is usual or normal. Not a single stone and not a single cloud above it. Not a single day and not a single night after it. And above all, not a single existence, not anyone’s existence in this world.

What else do you assess during these test drives?" He felt electricity, every nerve in his body firing at once, this attraction raw and unexpected. "Tires?" As one, they slowed a few feet before the sidewalk, stopping in the shadows as if neither of them wanted to step into the glare of the lights. She turned to face him, her gaze dipping to his shoes. "They do seem to be in good working order." "Suspension?" He took a step closer and heard her breath catch in her throat. "A little bit stiff." She licked her lips. "I think we're in for a rough ride." "Acceleration?" Jay shoved the warning voice out of his head and cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb over her soft cheek. Her gaze grew heavy and she sighed. Or was it a whimper? He could barely hear over the rush of blood through his ears. "A little too fast," she whispered, leaning in. She pressed one palm against his chest, and in that moment he knew she wanted him, too. "Maybe I should test the handling." Dropping his head, he brushed soft kisses along her jaw, feathering a path to the bow of her mouth as he slid one hand under her soft hair to cup her nape. He felt like he'd just trapped a butterfly. If he didn't hold on tight, she might fly away. "Or the navigation." She moaned, the soft sound making him tense inside. His free hand slid over her curves to her hip and she ground up against him, a deliciously painful pressure on his already-hard shaft. "Navigation it is." He breathed in the scent of her. Wildflowers. A thunderstorm. The rolling sea.

What Jesus said we could do is leave typical behind. We could leave all of the comparisons and all of the trappings and all of the pretending of religion. Jesus told the people He was with that it’s not enough to just look like you love God. He said we’d know the extent of our love for God by how well we loved people.

Comparison is a trap. It will kill our joy. It will rob us of our peace. It makes us act foolish and stupid. It causes dissension and division in the body of Christ. It creates terrible tension in our relationships with others. So here’s what you need to focus on: Let God use you the way he sees fit to do so. Embrace what he is doing in and through your life.

That day in Chartres they had passed through town and watched women kneeling at the edge of the water, pounding clothes against a flat, wooden board. Yves had watched them for a long time. They had wandered up and down the old crooked streets, in the hot sun; Eric remembered a lizard darting across a wall; and everywhere the cathedral pursued them. It is impossible to be in that town and not be in the shadow of those great towers; impossible to find oneself on those plains and not be troubled by that cruel and elegant, dogmatic and pagan presence. The town was full of tourists, with their cameras, their three-quarter coats, bright flowered dresses and shirts, their children, college insignia, Panama hats, sharp, nasal cries, and automobiles crawling like monstrous gleaming bugs over the laming, cobblestoned streets. Tourist buses, from Holland, from Denmark, from Germany, stood in the square before the cathedral. Tow-haired boys and girls, earnest, carrying knapsacks, wearing khaki-colored shorts, with heavy buttocks and thighs, wandered dully through the town. American soldiers, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes, leaned over bridges, entered bistros in strident, uneasy, smiling packs, circled displays of colored post cards, and picked up meretricious mementos, of a sacred character. All of the beauty of the town, all the energy of the plains, and all the power and dignity of the people seemed to have been sucked out of them by the cathedral. It was as though the cathedral demanded, and received, a perpetual, living sacrifice. It towered over the town, more like an affliction than a blessing, and made everything seem, by comparison with itself, wretched and makeshift indeed. The houses in which the people lived did not suggest shelter, or safety. The great shadow which lay over them revealed them as mere doomed bits of wood and mineral, set down in the path of a hurricane which, presently, would blow them into eternity. And this shadow lay heavy on the people, too. They seemed stunted and misshapen; the only color in their faces suggested too much bad wine and too little sun; even the children seemed to have been hatched in a cellar. It was a town like some towns in the American South, frozen in its history as Lot's wife was trapped in salt, and doomed, therefore, as its history, that overwhelming, omnipresent gift of God, could not be questioned, to be the property of the gray, unquestioning mediocre.

That book of [Melancthon], to my mind, deserves not merely to live as long as books are read, but to take its place in the Church canon; whereas your book, by comparison, struck me as so worthless and poor that my heart went out to you for having defiled your lovely, brilliant flow of language with such vile stuff. I thought it outrageous to convey material of so low a quality in the trappings of such rare eloquence; it is like using gold or silver dishes to carry garden rubbish or dung.

Experiment: Ask yourself if the either/or perfectionism trap is a problem for you. If it is, consider the following: 1. Maybe the flaws you see yourself as having aren’t as big in reality as they are in your mind. Maybe other people will care less about them than you think. Can you think of any flaws you perceive yourself as having where this might be true? 2. Achieving excellent performance at all times isn’t a realistic option, nor is always performing at the top, especially if you’re mixing in a pool of other smart people. Sometimes anxious perfectionists will avoid mixing with other very talented people because it triggers social comparison and self-doubt. This has a self-sabotaging effect because smart people spark each other’s ideas (the iron sharpens iron principle). Do you avoid situations that trigger social comparison? 3. Give other people some credit. Why would they forget about all the other stellar work you’ve done if you occasionally produce something that is not quite at your usual high standard?

And we can see why all comparisons where we try to decide if the woman is superior, inferior, or equal to the man are pointless: their situations are profoundly different. If these same situations are compared, it is obvious that the man’s is infinitely preferable, that is to say, he has far more concrete opportunities to project his freedom in the world; the inevitable result is that masculine realizations outweigh by far those of women: for women, it is practically forbidden to do anything. But to compare the use that, within their limits, men and women make of their freedom is a priori meaningless, precisely because they use it freely. In various forms, the traps of bad faith and the mystifications of seriousness are lying in wait for both of them; freedom is entire in each. However, because of the fact that in woman this freedom remains abstract and empty, it cannot authentically assume itself except in revolt: this is the only way open to those who have no chance to build anything; they must refuse the limits of their situation and seek to open paths to the future; resignation is only a surrender and an evasion; for woman there is no other way out than to work for her liberation.

One key characteristic of structure is its richness. To illustrate, recall the comparison that John Rawls drew between checkers and chess when he was describing the Aristotelian principle (see page 386). Both games are played on a board with 64 squares, but they have different structures. Checkers has one kind of piece, while chess has six different kinds of pieces. The movement of any checker piece is restricted to a single square per turn unless it is capturing, while movement in chess is different for each piece. In checkers, the goal is to capture all the opponents’ pieces. In chess, the goal is to trap one particular piece. The structure of chess is objectively richer than the structure of checkers. It is no coincidence that chess has thousands of books written about tactics and strategy for every aspect of the game while checkers has a fraction of that number. The nature of accomplishment in checkers and chess is also objectively different, as reflected in their relative places in Western culture.[1] I measure the richness of a structure by three aspects: principles, craft, and tools. The scientific method offers convenient examples. Conceptually, a scientific experiment proceeds according to principles such as replicability, falsifiability, and the role of the hypothesis that apply across different scientific disciplines. The actual conduct of a classic scientific experiment involves craft—the generation of a hypothesis to be tested or a topic to be explored, the creation of the methods for doing so, and meticulous observance of protocols and procedures during the actual work. The details of craft differ not only across disciplines but within disciplines. They also have a family resemblance, in the sense that a meticulous scientist behaves in ways that are recognizable to scientists in every field—“meticulous” being one of the defining characteristics of craft practiced at a high level. Tools play a double role. Sometimes they are created in direct response to needs generated by principles and craft—accurate thermometers are an example—but at least as often, a tool turns out to have unanticipated uses that alter both principles and craft, independently expanding the realm of things a discipline can achieve. An example is the invention of the diffraction grating to study spectra of light, which 40 years later turned out to enable astronomers to study the composition of the stars.

How can you know if a college is prioritizing education and training rather than amenities or a bloated bureaucracy? One way is to look at the quality of the academic and professional resources (the buildings where classes are held, the classrooms themselves, the library, the laboratories, the career center, and so on) in comparison to the social and recreational amenities (the cafeteria, student union, football stadium, fitness center, and so forth). Go on a campus tour and see how the tour guide “sells” the college.

Over the white robe of faith the soul puts on forthwith that of the second color, a green coat,9 emblem of the virtue of hope, by which it is delivered and protected from its second enemy, the world. The freshness of a living hope in God fills the soul with such energy and resolution, with such aspirations after the things of eternal life, that all this world seems to it—as indeed it is—in comparison with that which it hopes for, dry, withered, dead, and worthless. The soul now denudes itself of the garments and trappings of the world, by setting the heart upon nothing that is in it, and hoping for nothing that is, or may be, in it, living only in the hope of everlasting life. And, therefore, when the heart is thus lifted up above the world, the world cannot touch it or lay hold of it, nor even see it. 8. The soul then, thus

Wanting our kids to be successful is natural,” says Palo Alto psychiatrist Stacy Budin. “But the less healthy part comes from the hyper drive in our communities for kids to set themselves apart and shine in one way or another, or in all ways. There’s so much pressure for kids to achieve that it can become the focus of the mother’s life to ensure that high achievement happens. Some mothers seem to have nothing but their kids’ SATs and accomplishments to talk about. Then, when college admission offers come, the competitiveness, bragging, and comparisons are hard for all but the few who have the most to brag about. It’s not great for kids and it’s not great for mothers.”32 And what’s more, this great achievement race is all calibrated to a college admission system that is very, very broken.

You should also know that whatever your gift is, nobody can do it quite like you. One of the biggest traps we fall into as women is the comparison trap, the “she’s got it all” trap, the “she has more fans” trap, or the “she’s making more money” trap. We tend to stack ourselves up against everyone else and pick ourselves apart based on what other people are doing. This practice does nothing to make us better,

So why do women keep falling victim to the trap of jealousy, comparison, negativity and cattiness?

Insecurity, inferiority complex, past failures, and comparison are not your friend. Don't allow them to grow roots. The world is waiting for everything you've got to bring to the table.

We are each gifted in a unique way. But success in finding great applications for our gifts hinges on the power of our courage to steer clear of the trap of evaluating our significance by how we rank in comparison to others.

Although a few enzymes (e.g. carbonic anhydrase) catalyse a single isolated reaction, most are part of a team that catalyses a series of reactions in which each enzyme picks up its predecessor’s product, taking it a step further to create a metabolic pathway. This pathway may be to build up, say, an amino acid from simpler starting molecules, or conversely to break down food molecules to yield new chemical building blocks and sometimes also to trap useable energy. Life is the combined outcome of this seemingly logical enzyme teamwork. Like most things in the living world, this gives the appearance of purposeful planning down to the last detail. Such meticulous perfection would in past eras have been confidently attributed to the attentive skill of an all-powerful Creator. Since Charles Darwin, however, we have an alternative way of explaining how things in the living world come to be the way they are. Darwin led us to understand that natural selection could bring about stepwise beneficial adaptation over thousands or even millions of years, and, in the 150 years since the Origin of Species, we have learnt far more about the genetic mechanisms that can bring about such change. Does this kind of thinking work at the molecular level when we come to look at metabolic pathways and individual enzymes? In fact the study of enzymes and other proteins allows us to be a great deal more certain than Victorian biologists could be. Many of the distinctive biological characteristics studied in comparing animals and plants, like eye colour or wing shape, have turned out to be controlled by multiple genes, whereas, in looking at individual proteins, we are looking at the products of individual genes, and latterly we can even examine those genes directly. The possibility of determining protein amino acid sequences, and, more recently, the corresponding DNA sequences, allows comparison of the same enzyme from many species and also of enzymes catalysing different but similar reactions from a single species.

Changing just for the sake of changing can be a more dangerous trap than being stuck in complacency. The graveyard of failed businesses is full of companies that were willing to try anything, whether it made sense or not, just so they could feel that they were “riding the waves of change.

The comparison trap is easily laid because in the world of mountains, there will always be someone doing something bigger, better, and crazier.

There was no proper comparison for what it felt like being around him. Being manipulated by him. Verbally, emotionally, and physically overtaxed by him. West kept searching for something that came close, and thought maybe an acid trip. Some type of drug. Something you got excited to take, then swallowed, and realized too late that you were going to be trapped on that roller coaster for as long as it wanted to carry you. No way off.

It seemed a complete waste of time to reply to your arguments. I have already myself refuted them over and over again, and Philip Melancthon, in his unsurpassed volume on the doctrines of theology, has trampled them in the dust. That book of his, to my mind, deserves not merely to live as long as books are read, but to take its place in the Church’s canon; whereas your book, by comparison, struck me as so worthless and poor that my heart went out to you for having defiled your lovely, brilliant flow of language with such vile stuff. I thought it outrageous to convey material of so low a quality in the trappings of such rare eloquence; it is like using gold or silver dishes to carry garden rubbish or dung.[

Carwyn owed his allegiance to no man, woman, or immortal. Except one fucking woman who was determined to drive him mad. Someone had recently described Brigid Connor as “a badger trapped in a barn” and it wasn’t an inaccurate comparison. She was stubborn, destructive, and single-minded. It made her a fierce protector, an absolute firecracker in bed, and one of the best vampires he’d known in a thousand years. Of course he’d married her.

I thought that was reserved for fictional men.” “And how do I measure up?” She rocked against me, and I had to bite back a groan. “There’s no comparison. You blow them out of the water.

When we compare, there’s no winner—only losers trapped in a hollow life of comparison.

People can say they value personality and integrity over appearance all they want. The simple truth is looks matter—more than they should. Most humans fall into the trap of judgment and comparison. We judge people based on what we see and immediately draw conclusions that tend to stick.

I need you too badly.” “Then say it.” Closing my eyes, I whispered, “I’m beautiful.” Like any woman, I played the comparison game and knew I had flaws. I wasn’t perfect by any means. “No. Eyes on me.” When I forced my eyes open, he commanded, “Say it again.” This time, there was no hesitation. “I am beautiful.” He didn’t falter as he reaffirmed, “So beautiful, Lucy.

The Master is not trapped in opposites. His this is also a that. He sees that life becomes death and death becomes life, that right has a kernel of wrong within it and wrong a kernel of right, that the true turns into the false and the false into the true. He understands that nothing is absolute, that since every point of view depends on the viewer, affirmation and denial are equally beside the point.   The place where the this and the that are not opposed to each other is called “the pivot of the Tao.” When we find this pivot, we find ourselves at the center of the circle, and here we sit, serene, while Yes and No keep chasing each other around the circumference, endlessly. Mind can only create the qualities of good and bad by comparing. Remove the comparison, and there go the qualities. What remains is the pure unknown: ungraspable object, ungraspable subject, and the clear light of awareness streaming through. The pivot of the Tao is the mind free of its thoughts. It doesn’t believe that this is a this or that that is a that. Let Yes and No sprint around the circumference toward a finish line that doesn’t exist. How can they stop trying to win the argument of life until you stop? When you do, you realize that you were the only one running. Yes was you, No was you, the whole circumference, with its colored banners, its pom-pom girls and frenzied crowds—that was you as well. At the center, the eyes open and again it’s the sweet morning of the world. There’s nothing here to limit you, no one here to draw a circumference. In fact, there’s no one here—not even you. 7 Nothing in the world is bigger than the tip of an autumn hair, and Mount Everest is tiny.

I’m not building a castle or a monument; I’m building a soul and a family. I’ll tell stories all my life, writing on napkins and on the backs of receipts, or in books if they let me, but this is the promise I make to my God: I will never again be so careless, so cavalier with the body and soul you’ve given me. They are the only things in all the world that have been entrusted entirely to me, and I stewarded them poorly, worshiping for a time at the altars of productivity, capability, busyness, distraction. This body and soul will become again what God intended them to be: living sacrifices, offered only to him. I will spend my life on meaning, on connection, on love, on freedom. I will not waste one more day trapped in comparison, competition, proving, and earning. That’s the currency of a culture that has nothing to offer me.

Every day we curl over our phones, endlessly scrolling, falling deep into comparison traps, searching for superficial forms of validation in likes, mentions, and follows.

Toynbee provided this familiar downward course of empire with identifiably modern trappings. The ruling elite eventually becomes a class of Oscar Wildes, combining decadence of manners with sexual promiscuity and perversion; degenerate art à la Max Nordau raises its deliberately ugly head; language degenerates into slang and vulgar colloquialisms, and religion into syncretic mystery cults and occult magic. Can there be any doubt, Toynbee asked in 1939, on the eve of World War II, that all these are now leading characteristics of the modern West? “Nationalistic internecine warfare,” Toynbee related “[and] the combined drive of energies generated by the recently released forces of Democracy and Industrialism” have let loose the forces of chaos. “These considerations and comparisons suggest that we are already far advanced in our time of troubles.

Beauty lies between you and you and eye and eye Do not compare beauty, For it resides in all, Try if you will, But a slave to the mind you shall be. To compare a dandelion to a lily, And to say the lily is of greater beauty Is a sin we often see. The dandelion is everywhere to be seen, But it is not picked from the ground on a whim. A weed, it was labeled in those grown-up minds, Minds, which have been weeded through time. The same minds which cut lilies from the ground, And stare as they wonder ‘how sad that beauty dwindles down’. They let their thoughts haunt them, And get trapped in the world around them. The truth masked as lies of the eyes. The dandelion and lily, When left to be, Dance in the wind with such beauty, Free. Compare beauty and you'll eclipse your sun's light, And because you only know the stars That come to life when they die, You'll have to wait for the dandelion to fly, Specking light in your darkened mind's eye. Explain beauty and you'll stay for eternity, Trying to capture infinity. Only then will you look into the stilling river, And cry from the open wounds you hide. Bandaging your reflection, you try. Only when it drowns in the murky crinkling water, Do you realize That the stars won't offer the same blinding light, And the darkness has given you sight. Your comparisons’ prism lives only in your eyes, But it travels down your stem, Like a Serpent, Coiling around your breath, With your tongue, Sharper than the air of death, Shedding words you've been fed. Like the grey, Settling deep within your Soul, And the shade, That makes you feel whole. Perhaps you'll try to save the mirrored water, But as you thrash about in infinity, Do not break stems anymore. Instead cut the chains keeping you shackled to the shore. Still, as you roam free, Do not forget to remember, (Infinity said while knocking at eternity’s door) A rigid mind leads to a life lived hollow, But do dip into the mind’s eye knowingly, For the strongest light casts the darkest shadow.

Oh, I can use whatever tone I want. And you can taunt and snarl at me and make me chop wood all day, but short of ripping out my tongue, you can’t—” Faster than lightning, his hand shot out and she gagged, jolting as he grabbed her tongue between his fingers. She bit down, hard, but he didn’t let go. “Say that again,” he purred. She choked as he kept pinching her tongue, and she went for his daggers, simultaneously slamming her knee up between his legs, but he shoved his body against hers, a wall of hard muscle and several hundred years of lethal training trapping her against a tree. She was a joke by comparison—a joke—and her tongue— He released her tongue, and she gasped for breath. She swore at him, a filthy, foul name, and spat at his feet. And that’s when he bit her.

I cannot stress this enough: content creators need to stop comparing their work with that of total strangers. Furthermore, we need to stop seeing ourselves as content consumers and realize that, as producers, we need time and distance from what is already out there in order to create truly innovative work. If you are always exposing your mind to others’ work, when will you gain the strength to create your own? Find a balance between inspiration and creation, and make sure that the first is indeed inspiring. What might start as a journey to gather ideas can quickly become a shortcut to discouragement. Know when to stop.

The changes I saw in my body as a result of being pregnant now seem to pale in comparison to the changes I’ve seen in my personality as I have embraced motherhood. The ability to truly understand the pressures of motherhood cannot be understood unless you are a mother. You’re not alone in this, Mom! Your value as a mother is unsurpassed. You haven’t lost yourself; you’ve found who you were destined to become. You’ve been given lives to mold and an opportunity to prepare your children for the future. There is nothing “just a mom” about you.

We're having roast beef tonight, Lord Charles," Mildred announced, as though the smell that wafted throughout the house was not enough reason for Charles to guess that fact for himself. "I wouldn't have known." "I just adore roast beef," she continued breezily.  "It is one of my absolute favorite dishes." "Mine too," Ophelia added.  "Do you like roast beef, Captain?" "I do.  And did you cook it yourself, Miss Leighton?" "Oh no, Amy makes all the meals around here." "So I've noticed.  She is a very accomplished cook." "Oh, she's passably fair," Ophelia said, with an airy little laugh.  "I'm a better one, when I put my mind to it." "Are you?  Perhaps, then, you should put your mind, and your hands, to it tomorrow.  I daresay I would enjoy sampling your efforts and deciding for myself whether or not your claim is a valid one." Ophelia's smug smile promptly vanished.  She was trapped, and she knew it. Will saw instantly what the captain was up to.  "What a good idea!" he said loudly, earning a vicious glare from his sister.  "You haven't cooked anythin' in ages, Ophelia!  Why, I'll bet you're so out of practice that even the water won't remember how to boil for you!" "I'm not cooking unless Millie helps me!" "Do you mean that Mildred can also cook?" Charles murmured, raising his brows.  "Dear me.  I didn't know that either of you possessed such . . . talents." "Of course I can cook!  And I can make anything that Ophelia makes taste like slops in comparison!" "I should like to see you try!" snapped Ophelia. "Yes, so would I," mused Charles.  "But since you are both so eager to prove your culinary expertise to me, perhaps Ophelia can cook tomorrow, and Mildred can have her turn the following day." ""I can't cook tomorrow, I have other things to do.  Besides, Amy does the all the cooking around here." Charles smiled thinly.  "Yes, so I've noticed," he murmured.  And then, his voice hardening, "As well as all the baking, sewing, mending, cleaning, washing, weaving, marketing, and soap-making.  Rather a lot for one woman, isn't it?" Ophelia

Anxiety followed me when I changed jobs, during my first year of university, and throughout the following autumn and winter. It hung around when I started to drink more, when I started to drink less, and when I got sober once and for all and was forced to process life without numbness. It would hover over me for days before finally swooping in to convince me that I was failing, that I was weak, that I was alone. It would worsen when I tried to push it down. It thrived in the dark and in my solitude, and the longer I kept it there, the more anxious I became. Well into 2015, I kept chiding myself for not being better -- for not yet outsmarting the narratives that made me feel small and trapped and afraid. So, fueled by comparison with the people around me who seemed to have their lives under control, I threw myself into self-improvement: I decided I needed to commit to bigger and better, doing more, being more, being smarter, being more involved, less thirsty, more enthusiastic, busier, more relaxed, and, and, and. Perfect, perfect, perfect. And anxiety clapped back.

Let’s live in a way that teaches our children the importance of loving our neighbors and that peers aren’t our competition. When we begin to see our own value, we realize that no one else’s successes or accomplishments diminish our own but rather we see that God has a unique path for each of us. Sometimes a closed door is the very thing that leads us to our calling. We can walk our road without worrying if someone else’s road looks better. The comparison trap is an endless vortex of nothingness that serves only to make us feel insecure and discontented because we are measuring our insides against someone else’s outside.

What someone else thinks of you is none of your business?