#comparisontrap

👉👉 Competing: The Race No One Asked Me to Run

I didn’t know life had turned into a race until I realized I was panting in places where no one else was even paying attention.

It started one lazy morning when I opened Instagram and saw a stranger jogging at 5 a.m. with a caption that read, “No excuses. Winners wake up early.” Meanwhile, I was proudly standing in front of my fridge—also at 5 a.m.—but only because the motion sensor night-light turned on and startled me. The only thing I was committed to “waking up early” for was leftover gulab jamun.

And yet, without my consent, something in my brain whispered:

“You’re already behind.”

Behind whom? Behind what? Behind which imaginary finish line?

No idea. But the feeling was there—sticky, persistent, and oddly convincing.

That was the first time I noticed how comparison culture had slowly wrapped itself around me like a vine around an old tree. It didn’t choke me all at once. It tightened gradually, subtly, and politely—like a salesman who keeps saying, “Sir, just try this once,” until you’ve suddenly bought seven things you don’t need.

👉 Comparison didn’t enter my life with drama. It entered quietly.

Through family comments like, “Look at Sharma ji’s son.” Through colleagues who casually mentioned promotions as if discussing weather. Through friends who narrated their vacations in Bali as if listing achievements of the nation. Through strangers online whose routines looked like they were crafted by a productivity deity.

But most dangerously, comparison crept in through my own mind, disguised as ambition.

I didn’t fight it. I welcomed it. I thought it was normal. After all, isn’t the world designed like one big scoreboard?

🌟 Marks → Courses → Jobs → Salary → Marriage → House → Kids → Retirement → Die. Repeat.

Society calls this “success.” I call it “the treadmill of perpetual sweating.”

And then there is the mental exhaustion no one talks about.

Not the exhaustion of working hard or being productive—those feel satisfying. But the exhaustion of feeling perpetually inadequate because someone, somewhere, is doing something “better.”

Someone is fitter. Someone is richer. Someone meditates more peacefully. Someone’s balcony plants bloom more symmetrically.

I once compared my handwriting to someone else’s handwriting on a whiteboard. A whiteboard. The only place handwriting goes to die.

It sounds absurd, but that’s exactly how endlessly comparison infiltrates us.

👉 The invisible race begins not when you start running, but when you start looking sideways.

And that’s when the thesis of this essay began to form inside me—even before the incident that changed everything.

🌟 I didn’t quit life. I quit competing unnecessarily.

Because the deepest exhaustion wasn’t from my tasks. It was from chasing someone else’s milestones. Someone else’s timeline. Someone else’s metrics of worth.

And most importantly… Someone else’s definition of “success.”

👉👉 The Moment It Hit Me: A Silly Incident That Changed Everything

It wasn’t a spiritual retreat. It wasn’t a life-threatening experience. It wasn’t a mentor’s profound advice. It wasn’t even therapy.

It was a staircase.

Yes. A staircase. The most ordinary architectural feature to ever shake a person awake.

👉 The setup

I was climbing up the metro station stairs one afternoon—slowly, thoughtfully, peacefully—because the escalator wasn’t working and my enthusiasm was also defunct.

Suddenly, from behind, someone zoomed past me. A man in business formals—as if his tie was being dragged by an invisible ghost of responsibility. He overtook me aggressively, like he was participating in the Olympic Staircase Sprinting Championship.

For a moment, I was amused. Then, unexplainably, I sped up.

Why? I still don’t know.

My brain decided we were now in a race. A staircase race. With a stranger who didn’t know I existed. A stranger who, by the way, didn’t even look back—clearly not aware of the rivalry that had blossomed in my mind.

As I increased my pace, panting slightly like an out-of-practice steam engine, a flash of awareness pierced through me:

Why am I speeding up? I’m not even going to the same place!

He was probably late for a meeting. I was going to buy bananas.

There was no overlap. No intersection. Not even a tiny Venn diagram where our destinations accidentally touched.

Yet I was competing.

👉 And that’s when the hidden reality hit me:

Competition often becomes unconscious. Not chosen. Not evaluated. Just… reflexive.

The moment I realized this, something loosened inside me. Almost like a knot I didn’t know existed.

🌟 Comparison is a spell. And awareness is the antidote.

I slowed down. Intentionally this time. Not out of laziness but out of liberation.

In that moment, I remembered something simple but profound:

People don’t always run because they want to. Sometimes they run because they forget they can walk.

I let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, and kept climbing at my normal pace. The aggressive sprinter disappeared into the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel behind. I felt… free.

The emotional release was so gentle, so quiet, so private that I almost dismissed it. But it stayed with me.

For days.

Then weeks.

It made me notice how often I matched others’ speeds:

• Walking faster when someone passed me • Talking more confidently when someone else sounded smart • Buying something nicer because a colleague had an upgraded version • Feeling uneasy when someone younger “achieved something” • Posting something online only to mentally measure its likes

It was embarrassing, but also enlightening.

👉 The silly staircase incident became my awakening.

Not because of the man. Not because of the climb. But because it exposed the most overlooked truth:

🌟 Most competition is not chosen. It is absorbed.

And once you see the mechanism, the illusion collapses.

👉👉 The Invisible Script Society Hands Us

After the staircase incident, I began questioning everything that made me rush, compare, compete, and panic.

That’s when I saw it clearly: There is an invisible script driving modern life—and almost everyone is following it without reading the fine print.

👉👉 The script begins early. Extremely early.

🌟 Scene 1: Childhood You are handed crayons and coloring sheets, but before your creativity blooms, someone compares your elephant to the neighbor kid’s elephant.

One has straight lines. One has wiggly legs. Guess who gets appreciated?

Suddenly, art is no longer about expression. It’s about approval.

And thus begins the conditioning:

🌟 “Do well → get praised.” “Do flawlessly → get more praised.” “Do better than others → get the MOST praised.”

By the time you enter school, signals become louder:

• Marks = intelligence • Rank = worth • Medals = talent • Comparison = motivation

No one asks if the system is healthy. It is simply assumed to be normal.

👉 But children don’t compete to grow. They compete to belong.

And that creates cracks that adulthood quietly inherits.

👉👉 The Teenage Years: The Script Intensifies

This is the age where identity becomes a currency.

Your marks matter. Your looks matter. Your friendships matter. Your hobbies matter. Your future prospects matter. Your parents’ bragging rights matter.

Even things you cannot control—height, hair texture, voice pitch—become competition categories.

It’s not a competition for excellence. It’s a competition for survival.

👉👉 Adulthood: The Corporations Join the Game

This is where things get interesting—and darker.

Corporations have mastered the art of monetizing insecurity. Billions of dollars flow into industries built on convincing people they are “not enough.”

🌟 Examples:

• Beauty industry feeds on perceived flaws • Fitness industry feeds on guilt • Luxury industry feeds on status anxiety • Productivity industry feeds on fear of stagnation • Tech industry feeds on FOMO • Education industry feeds on parental comparison pressure • Social media feeds on collective low self-esteem

The formula is simple:

🌟 Make people feel inadequate → sell them the solution.

Comparison isn’t an accident. It’s an engineered ecosystem.

👉👉 Social Media: The Comparison Machine

It’s almost poetic how calmly social media presents chaos.

Someone is getting married. Someone is having a baby. Someone is at the gym. Someone is in Dubai. Someone is making a startup. Someone just bought a new car. Someone is doing yoga on a cliff at sunrise. Someone’s cat is more photogenic than you have ever been in your life.

And even though you logically know that people post only highlights, your brain whispers:

🌟 “Why not you?”

This is because human beings are biologically tuned to compare. Evolution made us sensitive to hierarchy. But digital amplification made hierarchy impossible to escape.

The challenge isn’t that comparison is bad. The challenge is that comparison is constant.

When your nervous system is exposed to endless updates, it begins to treat life like a scoreboard.

The result? Uneasiness. Irritation. Self-doubt. Imposter syndrome. Anxiety masked as ambition. Organic growth? Dead. Authentic joy? Compromised. Self-worth? Fragmented. 👉👉 The System Thrives When You Feel “Not Enough”

This is the hardest truth to swallow.

Modern lifestyle is designed like this:

🌟 If you feel enough, you will stop consuming unnecessarily. If you feel enough, you will stop chasing impossible standards. If you feel enough, you will stop performing for validation. If you feel enough, capitalism collapses.

This is why insecurity is profitable. A content human is a threat to the economy.

So the script continues:

• Buy more. • Look better. • Work harder. • Be faster. • Achieve higher. • Earn bigger. • Prove yourself endlessly.

You are not working for yourself. You are working for an illusion.

And because everyone else is also subscribed to the same script, it feels normal—even admirable.

But deep down, there’s a quiet voice asking:

🌟 “What if I don’t want this race?”

👉👉 A Humorous but Honest List of Expectations People Chase Unknowingly

Here’s a list I made during my detox phase. These are the unspoken metrics society expects you to excel at—simultaneously:

🌟 Have the perfect morning routine 🌟 Drink fancy coffee that sounds like a chemical equation 🌟 Maintain glowing skin like a skincare influencer 🌟 Be fit but not obsessed 🌟 Be spiritual but still ambitious 🌟 Have a job that pays well but doesn’t tire you 🌟 Be humble but also successful enough for relatives to brag 🌟 Have a minimalist home but filled with aesthetically expensive things 🌟 Have a partner who “gets you” but also gives you space 🌟 Raise perfect kids who play piano, code in Python, and meditate 🌟 Travel often, but not cheaply 🌟 Be online enough to be relevant 🌟 Be offline enough to seem balanced 🌟 Have opinions but not aggressive opinions 🌟 Stay calm during chaos 🌟 Be entertaining but deep 🌟 Be financially savvy but not greedy 🌟 Be ethical but still competitive

Basically, society wants you to be a Zen Monk CEO Athlete Guru Model Philosopher Millionaire Parent with flawless Wi-Fi.

And if you fail, even slightly, you feel behind.

That is the invisible script.

Designed quietly. Accepted blindly. Followed religiously.

👉👉 But once you see the script, you can rewrite it.

And that is where the journey begins—not of quitting life, but of reclaiming it.

Not of giving up ambition, but of choosing your own definition of success.

Not of rejecting society, but of refusing unnecessary competition.

Not of withdrawing from the world, but of participating on your own terms.

The day I stopped competing was the day I finally started living.

👉👉 What Happens When You Stop Competing

Something interesting happens when you step out of society’s invisible race. Not immediately—because the habit of competing is sticky like old tape—but gradually, quietly, almost like dawn touching a window before the sun fully rises.

It starts with a moment of peace so subtle you might miss it.

👉 Immediate peace: breathing without tension

For the first time in years, I noticed that my shoulders weren’t fighting gravity. My jaw wasn’t clenching as a hobby. My breath felt longer, wider, almost luxurious.

It was as if someone had removed a tight band around my chest.

The absence of comparison creates a surprising physiological shift. Researchers in affective neuroscience call this downshifting of the sympathetic nervous system—the body switches off its internal “danger: others are ahead!” alert.

When you stop competing unnecessarily, your nervous system finally gets a chance to retire from high alert.

🌟 Peace isn’t the presence of silence. It’s the absence of threat.

And comparison—for most people—is an emotional threat disguised as motivation.

Once that dissolves, the mind gets quieter without even trying.

👉 Clarity about goals that are genuinely yours

Stopping unnecessary competition is like cleaning a dirty window you didn’t know was dirty.

Suddenly, everything becomes visible:

• What matters. • What doesn’t. • What is yours. • What was borrowed from society.

I realized some of my goals weren’t truly mine—they were inherited like old furniture people keep “just because.”

I had dreams I never questioned. Preferences I never examined. Ambitions that were built from watching someone else’s life.

When the comparison layer fell away, misplaced goals evaporated like fog.

For example, there was a point where I convinced myself I wanted a car that cost more than my yearly income. Why? Because someone I knew bought one. That wasn’t ambition; that was imitation dressed up as aspiration.

When I stepped out of the race, I finally understood:

🌟 A dream not rooted in your soil will never bear fruit.

Authentic clarity isn’t loud. It is soft, grounded, and deeply self-respecting.

👉 More joy in even small achievements

When you’re constantly comparing, your achievements shrink like jeans after a hot wash.

But when you stop competing, even small wins feel expansive.

Finishing a book becomes satisfying—not because it’s better than someone else’s reading list, but because you finished it.

Cooking a simple meal feels nourishing—not because it deserves a Michelin star, but because it fed your body and spirit.

A half-successful workout feels like progress—not because it will become content, but because your limbs feel alive again.

🌟 When the race ends, joy returns. When joy returns, life feels possible again.

Your smallest efforts begin to feel worthy. Your days begin to feel meaningful. Your life begins to feel like yours.

👉 Relationships become sweeter—less jealousy, more presence

Comparing yourself automatically means comparing others too.

But when competition dissolves, relationships soften. People stop being reference points and return to being… people.

You listen more deeply. You celebrate more honestly. You stop measuring conversations by whose achievements are superior. You feel genuinely happy for someone without a single “Why not me?” echo.

Anthropologists call this status de-escalation, a return to relational ease.

I call it becoming human again.

Suddenly, friendships become conversations instead of contests. Family gatherings become connections instead of comparisons. Social interactions become lighter, warmer, kinder.

And you realise:

🌟 Jealousy is born from competition. Affection is born from freedom.

👉 A light moment: how my phone screen-time dropped after I stopped comparing

Here’s the funny part. I didn’t consciously reduce my screen-time.

It reduced itself.

I stopped scrolling because scrolling had finally lost its purpose. The comparison supply chain broke down.

Without the need to check who is doing better, my thumb—my poor overworked thumb—retired gracefully.

At first, I checked my phone out of habit. Then I checked out of boredom. Then one day, I picked it up and realized…

…I had nothing to check.

When I stopped competing, my phone stopped being a scoreboard. It became a tool again.

My mind felt lighter. My time felt longer. My attention felt whole.

🌟 When you stop feeding insecurity, distraction starves.

👉👉 Five Practices That Helped Me Detach From Comparison

Comparison isn’t a switch you turn off. It’s a habit you unlearn—patiently, gently, deliberately.

These five practices helped me detach slowly, sustainably, and honestly.

Think of them as handrails on a wobbly staircase leading out of competition.

👉 Micro-practice 1 — Micro-detachment: Slow the mind by 2 seconds

Comparison is impulsive. It reacts before consciousness catches up.

The antidote is not suppression but delay.

🌟 Micro-detachment rule:

Add a 2-second pause before reacting to anything.