Last night leaving the office, I was walking outside with my coworker friend and closely followed by a brand-new coworker. Coworker friend and I were discussing the latest audio book I was listening to and the new coworker asked what we were discussing. I commented that if she hears talking coming from my monitor area, it’s likely I’m listening to an audio book. She replied that she’d rather read a physical book than listen to one, and I mentioned I do that too, that I’m in the final pages of “The Complete Works of Dostoyevsky”.
She stopped and looked at me, gave a half laugh and threw her hands in the air, saying, “You’re so much smarter than me!” The three of us had a good laugh.
I got into my car, however, and I was taken back to my teenage years when my sister used to sigh/heave/cry/yell, “You’re so much smarter than me!” But, from her it was never uttered with a laugh, half or otherwise. It was always in dismay, or jealousy, or disappointment in herself.
I couldn’t understand it then, and I still have a difficult time with it now, especially since she’s gone and I can’t ask her about it now that we’re older, and I hope, wiser. What I do know, however, is that as I get older I realize just how much we compare ourselves to others. Some of us do this far more than others. My sister? She compared herself to others a lot. Me? Not too much. We were sisters, but we were clearly two different people.
My new coworker, is fresh out of college, is young, and she is very much still finding her way in the world and how she fits in with all these coworkers who are nearly two decades older. As I sat in the car, buckling myself in, I couldn’t help but think of my past and my sister. But, before I get too bleak in my reminiscing, I’ve heard other statements beginning with, “You’re so…,” which are much happier.
“You’re so joyful!” From a former coworker, who used to walk into the office in the morning and say, “Okay, you can tone down the joy a little.”
“You’re so happy! You’re always finding something to laugh about.” From my coworker friend, because, yeah… it’s pretty easy for me to find the humor in most things.
“You’re so tall!” Now, in reality, I’m only a little above average in the height department at 5’8”, but – that one still makes me laugh.
“You’re such a good storyteller!” Technically not a you’re so, but still something I’ve heard more than once, and I think probably the most important one (to me) that I’ve heard.
But, all of these things are either out of my control (my height) or things I’ve learned. Those things out of one’s control fall into the playing of the cards one is dealt situations. For everything else, we can learn it, we can choose it, but we have to learn to choose things that lift us up and not bring us down. Sadly, none of us are immune from being brought down.
But, I choose to be joyful, and happy, and to be a storyteller – perhaps of tall tales, and I think that makes me pretty smart.
Are you guilty of comparing yourself to others?
What is a comparison you catch yourself making?
Musings of the Amusing Muse 
I spent decades comparing myself to my older sister, mostly because every teacher we ever had compared us on a daily basis which left a mark on me. Horrible!
I’m laughing at the request to tone down the joy, I’ve also been told to “stop being so cheerful” … um NO!
Great post!
In high school I was often met by new-to-me teachers with, “Are you Brother’s sister?” I’d shrink in my seat because my brother was (and is) incredibly intelligent, but he “had a mouth on him” (still does) and was not above trouble making. LOL I knew I wasn’t him, so I never really compared myself to him outside of his being popular, whereas I didn’t consider myself to be the same level of popular (far from it). That said, I wasn’t about to become a trouble-maker JUST to increase popularity among my peers!
So I am TOTALLY guilty of comparing myself to others – I do it each & every day, in almost every situation – and I, almost always, think I pale in comparison to whomever I’m comparing myself. I’ve been playing a LOT of music lately, and I keep thinking “wow, any day now people are going to realize that I’m a fraud & anybody can do what I do.” I seem to forget that I spent my formative years learning scales & every chord and how to play any sequence from any starting point, so that I can “just play” when I see music – but, the fact that I can’t do what another musician is doing (because I don’t play their instrument as well as I play mine) leads me to think that I’m some kind of phony. I wish I could get over it.
Heck, even in a race, I *know* I’m better than the majority of other runners – empirical evidence tells me that I’m going to finish in the top 5-30% of runners for any given race I run. And I *still* think most everyone around me is a better runner than me.
I understand where you’re coming from! I didn’t compare my musicianship to others very much, but once in a while I’d come across another trombonist who just left my jaw hanging with their abilities. I also recall one musician who played tuba and euphonium in concert and I was AWED, wishing, and somewhat jealous, that my skills were as astounding. Did I know how to play a valve instrument? No. LOL. Did I like to practice? No. Did I rely simply on some half-assed practicing and above average natural talent and an ear for being on key? Absolutely.
I get stuck on my writing. I read blogs and I think “Damn! This is good and they have great flow through the whole piece and this blows what I write out of the water and I SUCK!” But, thankfully, I have been able to learn to catch myself in that thinking and let my logical, rational brain take over – though it’s often more of a wrestling match – to remind myself that my writing is MY writing. There are people who like it. There are people who don’t. That happens with every writer. I know that my blog is my practicing ground… the sandbox. Sometimes I can build beautiful sand castles and other days I find the shit the cat buried when my back was turned.
The book I’m listening to currently talks a lot about the ceaseless neuroticism of the voice in our heads. That if we personify this voice and hang out with it for a day – we’d come to despise this “person” because they think the worst about everything and they give the absolute worst advice and they don’t actually know what they want anyway. The book has made me laugh at the truth of these things, and it makes me glad I started back on guided meditation in an effort to quiet that voice. Hopefully, with practice, I will be able to catch it when it starts talking nonsense and tell it to go take a nap.