In turning 26, I had to face a lot of harsh realities about myself.
Taken in my hometown of Bay Shore. The bay is always very quiet this time of the morning.
Despite the obvious saying “Comparison is the thief of joy,” I find myself still looking in the mirror wondering why my number still hasn’t been called. Did you know Dak Prescott, quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, and I share the same birthday? Down to the very year, we both entered this world July 29th, 1993. He’s so good at what he does and so confident in his ability to make money, he’s negotiating a $30 Million dollar contract from the Cowboys franchise.
This morning I negotiated with a five-year-old on how to wear her hair.
The one thing we have in common? We both lost our deals.
I have lost sleep over this commonality I share with this Louisiana boy i have never met (and don’t really plan on meeting, Go Giants). I have wondered if our stars crossed in the cosmos. I have wondered if we raced down to earth at the same time but my parents caught me first, sliding down the end of the rainbow their first baby left for them.
I wonder and I cry and have anxiety and feel ungrateful every time these thoughts eek from the corners of my mind because I have things, good, tangible things. I am loved. I have love. I wake up to a boy who has loved me unconditionally for a fifth of our lives. My family is in good health, B”H. I have two little spotted animals that love me even when I feed them a strict amount. I have so many good things.
Still, comparison has karate chopped my joy in the throat. It’s tag teamed with my depression in the one sided duel with my fiancé for the longest relationship I’ve ever had. Comparison has logged into Instagram day in and day out and hovered over the photos of past acquaintances and current friends and made me wish I could lie this good, could dress up feeling overworked and underpaid and still not married and still not pregnant and make it look like a vacation and a pre-college body.
There hasn’t been joy in a very long time. And I don’t really know how to get it back. So I’m trying.
The weather is beginning to change. My Leo soul aches for 8:30pm sunsets and 90 degree mornings. The days are getting shorter and it feels like time is running out. Seasonal affective disorder is coming on faster than I can handle and depression can always use a helping hand. But I’m 26 now. And despite Comparison telling me I should have it all figured out (becauseyourfriendsdon’tclockinforworkwhydoyoustilldothat?) I need to face that I don’t and that nobody does.
I’ve started another photo series to give myself a weapon against Comparison. Called #Gilded, the photo series will be taken at golden hour, either before the day ends or before it begins. As long as the weather is nice, I’ll be out looking for that shot. I’m actually going to shoot, too, instead of letting my camera lie dormant in its bag. But some days I’ll just have my phone. I’m not giving myself rules.
Maybe I’ll learn something about myself. Maybe I’ll dust off my joy and wrap it around my shoulders when the air hurts to breathe and summer is too far away to touch.
Taken this morning 10/4/19, 7:08am. Suck it, comparison.