I love a good holiday card.

Growing up, my sisters and I would eagerly comb through the mail each day, looking for cards from friends and family both near and far, and take turns opening each card. There were the cards we looked forward to every year: those from our best friends’ families, the card from my parents’ friend who was a professional artist and always illustrated their family’s adventures from that year, and of course…the humble-brag Christmas card.

Maybe you know the card that I’m talking about. The humble-brag Christmas card is the card where the family writes a long letter, claiming how nothing “big” happened that year, and then proceeding to list every major—and minor—accomplishment of the children, the new car they bought, the luxury vacation they went on, and closing the card by thanking God for His many blessings.

There was one particular family (I’ll call them the Taylors) that sent our family this card every year. In fact, they still send my parents this card, and when my sisters and I are home for the holidays, we always ask my parents to read this year’s card from the Taylors, because, apparently, humble-brag cards don’t seem to become less entertaining, even after thirty years. But the past couple of years, as I’ve read the Taylors’ Christmas card as an adult who now sends out her own Christmas card, I notice a feeling arising in me that is less amusement, and more (for lack of better word) awestruck by all they’ve accomplished this year. When did this shift happen?

I’m well aware that Christmas cards, like all forms of social media, are designed to showcase our best features and the highlights from our year. Of course, I’m guilty of this – every year I make sure to choose pictures that are flattering of me for our card! And I do think there is something to be said for sharing our most poignant memories from the year with our loved ones. That being said, what do we do, how do we respond, when we get a Christmas card or see a social media post that’s dripping with the ahhhhh-mazing lifestyles of our friends and acquaintances?

Viktor Frankl, a neurologist and psychiatrist who survived the Holocaust, has a quote that I try to remember in moments when I see someone’s seemingly perfect life, body, family, etc. and feel tempted to compare my own to it: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

The stimulus: I receive a Christmas card or see a social media post with someone’s seemingly carefree life or perfect body. Over the years, I’ve formed an automatic response, largely based on my own insecurities and the internal and external messages I’ve received about what it means to live “carefree” and have the “perfect” body, which tends to include an internal dialogue of: “Wow, I’ve got to chill and stop being so anxious!” or scanning my body and making a detailed diet and exercise plan to target the areas that I would like to be smaller and/or more muscular. My friend sharing their memories or a beautiful picture of their family has somehow turned into me berating myself and making a plan to change aspects of myself to…what? Look more like them in their Instagram post or Christmas card picture?

What I love about this quote from Frankl is that it reminds me that I have a choice as to how I can respond when I’m tempted to compare myself with others. I can choose the berate-and-change method that I described above. Or, I can notice that negative dialogue in my head and be curious about it. What does this dialogue sound like? Does it sound like someone’s voice? What feelings does it bring up inside of me? Can I show myself compassion for those feelings? This could look like reminding myself of the strong pressure our society places on women in particular to look a certain way, or just being kind to myself as I notice the difficult feelings that come with feeling self-conscious about particular parts of my body.

For me, the hardest part in all of this is recognizing the space between the stimulus and response. Again, my automatic response of berating-and-changing myself seems to follow the stimulus pretttttty quickly. By paying attention to what I’m feeling inside, I can notice my internal experience and then choose a response that is in line with my values. For example, I value my friends and celebrating life’s joys with them. When I’m mindful of my own internal experience, this frees me up to acknowledge my feelings as separate from my friends or whoever I’m comparing myself to. I can make room for my painful feelings and also make room for celebrating my friends’ joyous moments.

You may have heard the famous quote by Theodore Roosevelt: “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I don’t know about you, but I have certainly experienced comparing myself to others as stealing my joy. I started taking a weight lifting class at my gym a few years ago. I remember when I was finally able to increase the weight on my chest press. I felt strong and accomplished. And then I noticed a woman several rows in front of me, using my max chest weight as her warm-up chest weight. Almost immediately, I felt the thrill of my accomplishment fade. I noticed myself thinking, “Well, I should’ve started lifting weights a couple of years ago, and then I wouldn’t be so weak!”

Comparison can certainly impact the quality of our relationships as well.  If we’re comparing our families and friends to what we see on social media or in our Christmas cards, we may start to resent those relationships if they don’t look like what we see other relationships looking like. We may try to change or mold those relationships to the relationships that look attractive to us on social media, rather than acknowledge and appreciate our relationships for what they are. Overall, it can affect our authenticity with those closest to us, if we’re trying to establish and develop relationships that look appealing and/or attractive like the ones we see online. Really, what’s the point of trying to get our relationships to look like the ones we find attractive on social media? Is the point to have relationships with those we care about or to make ourselves look up to par with the images (which could very well be portraying an ideal rather than reality) others are sharing online?

In our social media-driven world, I think we’re all familiar with the temptation to compare ourselves to others online. Around the holidays, receiving Christmas cards, reuniting with friends and family we haven’t seen in a while, can certainly add their own temptations to compare. If you’d like to learn more about coping with comparison, I’d love to chat! You can give me a call at (314) 392-2895.