The Power of Comparison

As a society, we’ve grown accustomed to making comparisons. Sometimes these comparisons can motivate us and make us stronger. Other times they can be harmful – making us wonder if we’ll ever be good enough, fast enough, strong enough or just plain old enough.

When Rylie and Tanner were little, there were always comparisons. Rylie talked early and expressed herself well. Tanner only grunted until he was about three and then started speaking in full sentences overnight. Rylie was daytime potty-trained early on, but she struggled at night. We tried potty-training Tanner on that same schedule and were met with resistance until the day he just decided he was ready and then never wore a diaper again.

Rylie loved going to school. She worked HARD and had to put in some serious hours of homework to achieve her goals. Tanner just seems to breeze through, but doesn’t enjoy it. We used to hear Rylie lament about how T didn’t ever have any homework. We promised her that when he hit middle school, she’d see an increase in his workload. She’d be fired up by his lack of homework and ease in achieving good grades so far this year!

I constantly compare myself to other moms and teachers. This mom always has time for her children. That mom has an immaculate, yet lived in house. This teacher has the most amazingly engaging lessons with Pinterest worthy accompaniments. That teacher grades with the speed of lightening and gives her students timely feedback. This mom never lets her job take over her life. That mom always has nutritious meals and snacks for her family. This mom never looses her mind and yells at her family. And on, and on.

I’m used to the self comparisons. I’ve even gotten used to new levels of comparisons from the ‘old’ me to the ‘new’ me. I know they’re not realistic, nor is it healthy for me to hold myself (or others) up to each other constantly. Yet I do it anyway.

If I do it, I know others do too. However, I was not ready to hear Tanner compare himself to Rylie tonight.

This fall Tanner decided (read was highly encouraged by his mom) to join the school Cross Country team. It’d make him a stronger hockey player by building endurance. It’d help him be better for Hexathlon in the spring. It’d allow me to spend time coaching with two really fantastic ladies and friends. It’d give us an opportunity to complete volunteer hours. He’s been a great sport about it, and while he doesn’t love running, he enjoys the people and the activity.

There have been several times this fall that I’ve been surprised by how hard it is to coach the team this year. Cross country was Rylie’s sport. She was a born runner. Each practice, each meet I’m met with a memory from last year’s season which I also helped coach.

I assumed it was only hard for me. I was wrong.

As we talked before bed tonight, Tanner shared his frustrations around running. He’s used to being one of the strongest athletes on his teams, but he’s not in cross country. He wants to be faster and felt he should’ve been able to beat person x, y, and z.

We talked about the individual nature of running and the mind games that are involved. Then it came out…

He wanted to be good like Rylie. He wanted to be running on the team WITH her. He wanted to hear her cheer him on like she did with all of her teammates. He wanted to beat her (or at least try).

It’s not the first comparison he’s voiced since Rylie died, but this one hit home for some reason.

Like so many things lately, it gave me pause to think about the purpose of comparisons. It made me want to pause all those comparisons I make about myself, about my family, about the world. Why not just look at each person, each situation and see them for what they are – not what they are compared to something else, especially when that comparison is unrealistic…