When we don’t feel at home in ourselves, it’s natural to scan the world around us for answers. We quietly ask, “Am I okay?” and then we look to the people in our lives for evidence. We study their jobs, their relationships, their homes, their happiness. And too often, we walk away feeling like we don’t measure up.

That’s the nature of comparison. It pretends to offer information. But what it actually gives us is distance. From ourselves, and from others.

Take this example. You want a healthy, connected partnership, but keep finding yourself repeating relational patterns that you long to break. Meanwhile, one of your closest friends seems to be in a relationship that looks *exactly* like what you desire. Then, in a moment when support and connection with your community would be so helpful, you hesitate. You think to yourself, “there is no way she will understand what I’m going through, she has a perfect relationship.” And in that moment, instead of reaching out to her for support, you shrink back. You tell yourself she wouldn’t get it, or that she’s too far ahead to relate. You see her life and use it as a silent confirmation that you are behind. That you have somehow failed.

Now you’re holding two kinds of pain. You don’t have the thing you want, and you don’t feel like you can turn to anyone about it.

Comparison doesn’t just steal joy. It steals belonging.

It tells you that your grief is only valid if someone else has it worse. It convinces you that other people’s success is a threat, and that asking for support makes you weak or unworthy. It elevates others while making you feel small. And when we feel small, we hide. We disconnect.

This is especially common for trauma survivors. When we have learned to scan for threat, our nervous system often misinterprets someone else’s happiness as danger. Their ease feels like evidence of our inadequacy. Their connection feels like proof of our isolation.

But the truth is, you can want something and not have it, and still be worthy of care. You can be heartbroken about what’s missing without needing to diminish yourself. You can reach toward someone else not to compare, but to connect.

That shift begins when we stop using comparison as a measuring tool and start honoring our own experience- exactly as it already is.

You are allowed to want more. You are allowed to say, “This hurts.” And you are allowed to let others in, even if they seem to have what you’re still hoping for.

Let go of the idea that you have to measure up to be seen.
You are already worthy of connection, exactly as you are.

Thank you for letting me see you,