mental-health – Ballads Of The 20-Somethings

Comparison is the thief of joy

Like many of you, I’ve heard this phrase plenty of times in my life. The quote originated from our 26th president, Theodore Roosevelt, who served our beloved country from 1901 to 1909. It isn’t explicitly clear why Theodore said this, but I can imagine running a country had its ups and downs.

Lately, I’ve been hearing this phrase more often than not—while watching a movie, on YouTube, doom-scrolling, and even during a conversation I had with a friend last night:

Comparison is the thief of joy.

I won’t lie to you—some quotes come off as corny to me. But then there are some that just stick.

At this moment in my life, I can vulnerably say that I am not exactly where I want to be. I want to emphasize that I know this feeling isn’t permanent, but while you’re waiting and working toward the life you desire, it can feel like the whole world is on your shoulders.

When you’re watching people online who’ve accomplished a lot—or who’ve achieved the goals you’ve set and prayed for—sometimes it feels like the universe is punishing you.

“When is it my turn?”

This feeling doesn’t come from a place of jealousy or envy—and even if it did, that’s okay. As long as you recognize and understand where that feeling is coming from, and you’re not projecting your insecurities onto others. That’s when it becomes harmful—not only to yourself but also to the people around you.

When I noticed I had these feelings, I genuinely had to check in with myself. Of course, I’m happy and proud of the people around me who are doing the damn thing. But that fear of being left behind is paralyzing.

After checking in with myself, analyzing those feelings (it sucks being a Virgo), and—of course—feeling them (please, feel whatever you’re feeling first), I realized it was a little silly.

There’s no such thing as being left behind. My turn will come.

The feelings are valid—and even after checking in with yourself, they might still linger.

Social media is the epitome of the quote.

You can be scrolling on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, or wherever, and suddenly you see someone with the body you want, the relationship you want, the apartment, freedom, career—or even the travel life you’ve dreamed of. There is so much space to just… compare.

In doing so, it only makes us focus on where we feel we lack within ourselves.

Lately, I’ve fallen victim to that mindset. Creating that space in my mind has made it unsafe for my thoughts and ideas to flourish.

I feared even writing about this topic because I was afraid someone I knew—or maybe even a complete stranger—might judge me or assume this post was driven by jealousy.

Funnily enough, that fear pushed me to write it anyway. I started this blog by saying, “Do it scared.”

The feelings that have crossed my mind lately aren’t unique to me. And even if it’s just one person who relates to what I’m saying, I’ll take it.

I was listening to a podcast—The Moments Podcast—and the creator had an episode titled “Comparison is the Thief of Joy.”

As someone who wants to take their blog to the next level—grow my following, get sponsors, gain traction—I look at their podcast and see success: the views, the subscribers, the Instagram following (over 80k), and the fact that their Spotify listeners tripled the number of views I’ve had on my blog.

But in that very episode, the creator talked about comparing their podcast to others—where they felt like someone else’s numbers had tripled theirs.

It was a nasty domino effect.

And even now, someone out there might be wishing they had started a blog or a podcast—comparing themselves to those who did. Maybe you’re comparing your life or choices to someone else, and someone else is out there comparing their life to yours.

And so on, and so forth.

It’s a twisted cycle.

It’s so easy to look at our own lives and see only the parts that feel empty.

Shoutout to my friend Madison who said, “Capitalism wants us to compare ourselves and become miserable with our lives.”

And you know what? Can we take it there for a minute? Is that cool? Okay.

A prime example of this? Apple products

I, myself, have used Apple products—so I want to make that abundantly clear. I’ve also fallen victim to feeling like I needed to upgrade my phone every year or so because it’s what everyone else was doing. They showcase these new models and present them as something we have to buy, even though there’s nothing wrong with our iPhone from last year.

And if you’re not up to date with the latest model, it almost starts to feel like it determines your social class. If someone still has an iPhone with the home button, people might look at them like they’re crazy. Off the top of my head, I couldn’t even tell you what the newest iPhone model is right now.

It honestly all circles back to consumerism. There’s probably nothing wrong with the phone you have now—but when September rolls around and Apple drops their latest model, somehow your phone starts glitching. Like, mysteriously malfunctioning. It’s almost as if they want to validate your need to upgrade.

But this post isn’t about the political and economic state of the world right now and how we are trained to always aim for the next best thing. So, critique time is over.

I felt urged to write about this quote because of how fucking true it is. The minute our minds drift into comparison, the satisfaction we had with our lives—our progress, our things, our pace—suddenly and instantly dies.

The journey we were suddenly excited to embark on can feel like a restriction. And it takes the joy out of making risks and being appreciative of the now.

So today, on this beautiful Saturday, I urge you to do 3 things:

1. If you’re feeling unsatisfied in a certain area of your life, do one thing this week that brings you a step closer to that desire.

2. Say, write, or think of five things you’re grateful for right now.

3. Follow the blog’s Instagram: @balladsofthe20somethings

https://www.instagram.com/balladsofthe20somethings/

I know, shamelessly plugging—sue me, lmao.

Also, I try not to word vomit on each post lmao and I’m urged to start a little podcast where I talk about the blog post, a little after hours chit-chat. So Follow my instagram and you’ll be the first to know. (I know I know)

Song of the Day

DAUGHTER – Beyoncé

Today, I’ll be dissecting the song DAUGHTER by Beyoncé, our mother. I think it’s very fitting that the first song I talk about — and find complete solace in — is a Beyoncé song. So, let’s get into it.

When Beyoncé dropped COWBOY CARTER on March 29 of last year, I was hooked on the first full listen of the album. On the second listen, some songs held more personal weight for me than others. DAUGHTER was one of them.

In the song, Beyoncé dives into the true and complex feelings of infidelity, and although I can relate to that feeling all too well, what struck me more was her expression of anger — maybe even violent anger. She compares and recognizes these negative emotions as resembling those of her father. As a threat, she warns people not to think that just because she’s “calm” or tries to be the bigger person, it doesn’t discredit the raw and vicious thoughts she sometimes wants to act on — even thoughts of wanting to harm someone.

Being a twin, I’ve always wanted to distinguish myself from my sister. The constant need to stand out on my own was a recurring theme in our lives — and sometimes still is. When we were younger, my sister was assigned the typical “mean” twin role, and by default, I was the “nice” twin. They were fixed roles, and they followed us pretty much all our lives. I can’t speak for any siblings or twins who were assigned the “mean” twin or sibling role, but I can speak for those of us who were given the “nice” one.

In comparison to the “mean” twin/sibling role, it’s theoretically a good one — but it comes with restrictions. I swear I’m going to tie this back to the song and wrap it with a bow, stay with me y’all lol. As I was saying, when that role is assigned to you at a young age, it becomes limiting. The moment you want to step outside of it, others feel like you’re “changing” or say, “This isn’t you.” As if you’re a one-dimensional character.

Now, back to the song.

When I heard the lyrics:

“They keep sayin’ that I ain’t nothin’ like my

Father

But I’m the furthest thing from choir boys

And altars

If you cross me, I’m just like my father

I am colder than Titanic water”

I was fortunate enough to have both my parents in my life who loved and cared about me. My parents were… unique in their own way.

My mom — sweet, gentle, brighter than the sun.

My dad — tough, sometimes cold, stubborn.

My dad was strict, and my mom gave us more leeway. When I was younger, my sisters and even my dad would say I was just like my mom. I was sensitive — still am — forgiving, and always saw the best in people. My sister, on the other hand, could relate more to my dad. The comparison never bothered me, because my view of my mother’s strength never wavered.

It was the expectation that bothered me.

When I heard Beyoncé sing those lyrics for the first time, I knew exactly what she meant. Emotionally, my dad and I couldn’t be more different. But in those moments where I feel betrayed, enraged, or embittered, I can almost feel myself turning into my father.

“Help me, Lord, from these fantasies in my

Head

They ain’t ever been safe ones

I don’t fellowship with these fake ones”

Having that “nice sibling” role assigned to me had its limitations. When I was slighted or wronged and felt like I couldn’t let my anger speak, I buried it in my thoughts. I was afraid I’d go against the status quo. If I let myself show a human and reasonable emotion — who am I? My sense of self felt attacked. My desire to stand out from my twin was suddenly in question.

Now that I’m older — and many therapy sessions later — I’ve finally broken away from the “nice sibling” role. That doesn’t mean I’ve adopted the “mean sibling” role either. I’ve just become comfortable with the fact that I have a range of emotions. One character trait does not define me, and I don’t have to stick to just one. I’ve learned that if people expect you to be one way and get let down, that’s on them, not you.

Obviously, this song goes beyond just being cold like your father. Beyoncé talks about infidelity and the anger she possesses when she finds out — but that’s what I love about music. You interpret it how you want to.

So, if you feel like you’ve been assigned a “role” in your childhood and you want to break free from that, I invite you to listen to the song.

I love that I am both my mother and my father. And it’s even cooler that I’m the only one of their children who carries both of their last names.

I am the daughter of Stormie Ashley and Frank Washington.

With love,

Aliah Ashley Washington