The Hidden Cost of Comparison

content warning: mention of depression and suicide

When I was growing up, my father had a saying, “You know you’ve done well when you’ve impressed me.” 

To him, telling me this, followed by, “and I’m impressed,” was his way of showing his pride at what I’d accomplished, his way of expressing his love. To me, I was unknowingly conditioned to base my worth and pride of accomplishment on the validation of external sources. 

He meant to teach me the value of hard work. What I learned instead was that the real reward wasn’t the work itself, but the recognition that came with it.

I lost my dad to suicide in 2017. He was 48, I was 18.

At the time of his death, there was no question that my dad was a successful man. He was the Chief Marketing Officer of a law firm in Chicago; he had the titles, the salary, the awards, and the material possessions that go along with the typical definition of “success.” The only person who questioned his accomplishments was himself. 

For as long as I can remember, my dad struggled with severe depression and anxiety. He also had adult-onset Type 2 diabetes and no real commitment to his health. He hid all of this from everyone except his wife and children. Publicly, he wore a mask of perfection, fulfillment, and tolerance; privately, we experienced the stress, overwhelm, and fear. 

For my dad, nothing was ever good enough; he was never good enough, because the standard was always coming from something outside of himself: the titles, the salary, the awards, the reliance on others to raise him up. He lacked all sense of intrinsic worth, unable to recognize his own value. 

And for a long time, I carried the same pattern.

For years, I acted out, made decisions that were not aligned with who I really am, and felt awful about my life because I was comparing myself to others. I didn’t look like the pretty, popular girls at school, I wasn’t the straight-A student, and my life didn’t look magical through the lens of Instagram filters. If my life didn’t look like the success I saw in others, then was I really successful? Was my life really worth anything?

The hidden cost of comparison is not just feeling bad about yourself. It's giving up the life you're actually meant to live in a constant, exhausting chase for validation from people who may not even be watching.

I’m now nearly four years into understanding this pattern and actively working to change it. My work around self-awareness, intrinsic value, and personal ownership has changed not only the way I make decisions, but the way I move through my life.

Learning to ask myself whether a choice is coming from genuine desire or external comparison has been transformative.

Because the real freedom isn’t in being admired, it’s in becoming someone you can trust to define your own worth.