on comparison

On Monday, I was in yoga and the instructor said, "For some of you, this may be your second workout of the day..." and then, a few minutes later, "If you've already been to CrossFit and done 1,000 push ups, then you might want to skip this..."

And I immediately felt bad about myself. This was my first workout of the day. I was meeting a friend for a walk afterwards, but I wasn't going to be doing anything else intense. I thought yoga in a 100+ degree room counted as enough?

Then, I was annoyed of her. How dare she compare us like that? How dare she make us feel bad about just one workout?

And then it hit me: she didn't compare us. In fact, she didn't say anything about how awesome they were for doing multiple workouts and that those of us who hadn't were slackers. 

I did it to myself. I immediately went from a place of zen to one of self-destruction. And while my greatest area of weakness when it comes to self-critiquing is within this arena (was that workout enough? Should I use this extra time to squeeze in one more? Should I be going faster, longer?), I think a lot of us do this in our every day lives.

I thought about it for the last few days, trying to reflect on why I immediately wanted to beat myself up - wanted to hold myself to someone else's workout standards. And then, my friend Robyn blogged about this yesterday. About the way we are hard on ourselves and it can lead to quarter-life-crisis-mode.

Why do we hold ourselves to someone else's standards? Why can't we be certain that we are doing and being enough?

We feel good about our job until we see someone else get a promotion. Why haven't I gotten one yet?

We feel good about our friendships until we see all of our friends in Chicago together. Am I missing out?

We feel good about our house until we see someone else whose is so much more grown up. Does mine look like I'm in college?

We feel good about a first date until we see yet another engagement on Facebook. Am I behind?

Comparison! Such a thief of our joy. 

And I'm quitting it. Because this is my story - and your story! And we're supposed to live them our own way. Babies at 23 is so awesome for some of my friends. It's the way they're supposed to live. But I'm not supposed to have babies yet - or even a husband. Because if I were, I would have it. 

And we can only control so much of our lives before we have to let go and trust that our desires will be taken care of - they will fall into place. One hot yoga class is enough. And a one-part-collegey-one-part-grownup apartment is great. And in case you've forgotten, you are enough. Single or married. On your Pottery Barn couch or your Ikea couch. In the gym or in your bed. In Chicago, in Indy, in Atlanta. And everywhere in between.

You're more than enough. In fact, you're killing it.