'Toxic Comparison Was Ruining My Life'

2020 was going to be my best year ever. I was releasing two books with a major publisher, one in the spring and another in the fall. I had a full calendar of speaking engagements that included women's conferences and leadership conferences around the United States and in Asia, South America, Africa, and Europe.

In February of 2020, right before I boarded a flight to speak at a conference in London, my husband told me, "Be careful. There's something called coronavirus that's killing people in China." I heard what he said, but the concept seemed so literally foreign to me that I didn't give its implications any serious thought. At least, not until I returned from the trip a few days later and the world as I knew it started shutting down.

One after another, my speaking engagements got canceled or postponed indefinitely as host organizations began to adjust to a COVID-19 world. By early March, every engagement I had was canceled and the momentum for my book launch stalled as media outlets focused on covering what had become the first global pandemic in a century. Although the responsibilities in my day job in the tech sector got more intense as the entire world shifted online, the sudden clearing of my calendar from speaking obligations meant I had a bit more personal time on my hands. It was a welcome change, until it wasn't.

One morning before my work day began, I checked my Instagram to respond to comments. Although I normally went straight to my notifications, I happened to catch a glimpse of my newsfeed, and I saw something that caught my eye. It was a friend of mine announcing the "exciting" news that she would be speaking at a major women's conference that would meet virtually due to the pandemic. As I scrolled down, I saw another friend share the same "exciting" news that she would also be speaking at that event. I scrolled down a bit further and noted almost a dozen of my friends were speaking at the event, which normally attracted thousands of people in person and would certainly attract exponentially more by removing the barrier of travel. And that's when it happened.

"Why wasn't I invited?" I thought. I knew all the speakers personally. I even knew the conference host. Which led me to wonder, "Why did she invite everyone we mutually know, except me? Why wasn't I considered good enough to speak?"

The experience troubled me so deeply that, when the time came for me to log on to my video conference that day, I turned the camera off and kept scrolling through tear-blurred eyes. I even went so far as to click on each person's Instagram profile to try to understand what they had that I didn't. I compared my follower count to theirs. I compared who was following me to who was following them. I went to several of their websites to compare what other speaking events were on their schedules in comparison to my own itinerary. I was drowning in a comparison-fueled inquisition into the depth and breadth of how I measured up against them.

So, how did I neutralize these comparison-fueled, toxic thoughts coursing through my mind?

Identifying insecurity

As a person of faith and someone who leads a local church with my husband, I have often experienced a sense of hearing God's voice, and on the day of that video conference, as I was buried deep in comparing myself to others, I felt as though I heard God ask me a question. I heard, "Nona, why does it matter?"

The question was so profound in its simplicity that it stopped my racing thoughts in their tracks and made me look at myself in a way I had never looked at myself before. When I thought about the question, I realized that the reason it mattered to me that I was not invited to speak was because I had somehow started securing my identity to the speaking invitations I received.

I didn't realize it immediately because it happened gradually over time. With every larger platform and every louder ovation, my understanding of who I was and the worth I had became secured to speaking engagements. But even if you're not a professional speaker, toxic comparison can lead you to attach your self worth to other insecure foundations, to see value in attributes that are subject to other people's approval.

This realization catalyzed the self-work I underwent for an entire year to not only better understand myself and the way I was reacting in certain situations. During this year I was journaling daily to uncover the root of the events that triggered my insecurity. I would write the event at the top of the page, followed by the question "why does it matter?" I would allow myself to answer the question, then I would write again, "why does it matter?" It was a cathartic process of introspection

Over that time I began to pay close attention to my emotional response to when someone else's success made me feel like a failure. I would lean into the emotion and ask myself, "Why does it matter?"

I noticed that even after speaking to thousands of people around the U.S. and the world, being interviewed by major media outlets, and releasing two books with a major publisher, when I would see someone speaking at bigger conferences or being featured on more prestigious media platforms, the primary emotion I would feel was fear.

Finding the root cause of my insecurity

As well as taking the time to honestly reflect on my feelings and behaviors, I also read a number of good books about insecurity that trace it back to low self-esteem. Merriam-Webster's dictionary defines self-esteem as "confidence and satisfaction in oneself; self-respect." In other words, self-esteem is confidence in one's own worth or ability. But while our self-esteem may be temporarily bolstered by words of affirmation from ourselves or others, insecurity isn't cured by compliments.

Determining the source of my insecurity, the fear that I felt, required thoughtfully considering which insecure foundations I had secured my identity to. I see an insecure foundation as any attribute that is only as valuable as people's opinion of it; things like physical appearance, job title and academic credentials among many other things.

I realized that something I had secured my identity to was speaking invitations. This is why I was so triggered by not being invited to speak at the women's conference my friends were invited to speak at. The root of my fear, after giving myself the space to explore it and be honest about what I uncovered, was the false belief that their success would lead people to choose them instead of me.

My self-work also revealed I had secured my identity to the insecure foundation of physical appearance, something that was an outgrowth of having been morbidly obese throughout young adulthood and suffering through brutal name calling as a result.

These revelations were, both, a relief and a responsibility. They gave me language for what was happening inside of me and they also gave me language for the aspects of my identity that I needed to strengthen. But how would I do it?

Overcoming toxic comparison

Comparison is generally viewed as a negative, but I discovered that there is a positive side, too. When we see someone succeeding and their success inspires us to activate our potential, it's healthy comparison.

Healthy comparison is life giving, energizing and compelling. Conversely, when we see someone succeeding and their success makes us wonder why we're not good enough, it's toxic comparison. The toxic comparison I was experiencing was exhausting and de-motivating. This is why overcoming toxic comparison started with a willingness to reframe that which triggered my insecurity and turn it from toxic to healthy.

For me, this took the form of turning my toxic comparison triggers into cues to celebrate the person I was feeling triggered by. For example, when a friend of mine released a book that was wildly successful, toxic comparison triggered a response in my that led to me feeling fear; fear that her success would somehow mean there would be no room for my own book's success. I stopped the fear in its tracks by buying her book, sending her a congratulatory message and encouraging my followers on social media to support her, too. I took it a step further by giving her a call and asking her to share her insights on her successful book launch so I could apply them to my own book launch.

My friend spent an hour and a half recounting the highs and lows of her book launch. I left the conversation feeling empowered and inspired, feelings I never would have felt had I allowed toxic comparison to run its natural course and end with me feeling like a failure because of her success.

Reframing my toxic comparison trigger as a celebration trigger not only neutralized the power of toxic comparison in my heart, but it also positioned me to learn and grow from the experience of the person whose success I ultimately wanted to experience for myself.

Just as I have to navigate comparison-born insecurity every day in my own life, learning to navigate it in your own life will be a daily exercise too. Awareness of what you are feeling, and the willingness to admit it, can be your first step to freedom!

Nona Jones is an internationally renowned speaker, business executive, media personality and ministry leader. Learn and hear more about Nona Jones' personal journey and order her new book, Killing Comparison. You can follow Nona on Instagram @nonanotnora.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.