The Addiction of Comparison

I have decided that I need to write (for mostly my benefit) the thoughts and feelings I’ve been having. The last three days have been extremely depressing. I have been so weak, my energy stores so depleted, that I wasn’t able to get out of bed for three days. This hurts. I am not that person. I am not that person who EVER watches movies all day or leaves the dishes in the sink undone. I am not that person who only gets up to eat and pee. But for the last three days I was that person. Something happened and this pregnancy sickness really took over.

 If it was only the migraines, dizziness, and muscle fatigue, I could still probably handle it. But it’s this insane amount of vomit that projects itself from my throat almost anytime I stand up that really gets me. You’d think I’d learn to just not eat. And I’ve tried that. I’m so exhausted from the constant efforts to try to refuel my aching body; but to not eat sends me into a fit of dry heaving. The dry heaving becomes so severe that blood vessels burst all over my face, neck and chest… and I’m left shaking on the bathroom floor.

Yes, it is that bad.

And that worse part? I hate that this is me. This is my reality. And it makes me depressed and angry. Why? Why do I have to experience this? I hear from other pregnant girls my age that they never felt sick at all (especially not in their second trimester), haven’t lost or gained a pound, and feel a constant prego glow from their cheeks. When I hear this I can’t help but compare myself to them.

I compare to their skinny bodies my ever-growing butt that seems in competition with my belly, despite the rollercoaster of nutrition that I am on. I compare my scarce ability to walk around the block to women I know who are planning marathon runs in their third trimester. And yes, I compare myself to my friends who are already third trimester and barely showing at all. I feel like a ship packing on the cargo for a long and trying journey.

Not only do I compare myself to others, I compare my current self to the me of the past. I compare my swollen, tired body to when I was dancing all day on the Brigham Young University Ballroom Dance Company. Man, was I in shape then. I compare myself to me just last spring, when I finished top 10 females in one of the Nation’s most challenging and acclaimed half marathons. I compare myself now to before I was pregnant, when the dishes were sparkling clean and a warm meal welcomed Ben home every night. I compare myself to when I was able to work two jobs, bringing home good money for our savings.

I can compare myself to just about anything and anyone if I get going. I can do this because it is an addiction. It is addicting to pity myself and ask, “Why me? Why now?” It is addicting to expect life to come easy and without hardship. It is addicting to let my pride rule my thoughts as I justify comparison. But any addiction is dangerous, and I’ve realized it has led me down a hard road.

During these last exceptionally hard days I asked Ben to give me a blessing. The words of this prayer touched me so deeply and so profoundly that I found myself indescribably humbled. I was told to be grateful. Be grateful for the hardship I am going through; because it is only through this hardship that I will truly understand the suffering of my Lord, Jesus Christ. In all my discomfort and illness to bring forth a new life, I will begin to comprehend the suffering Christ went through to bring us all New Life. This is my own Gethsemane. The words of the hymn Where Can I Turn for Peace describe it best:

Where, when my aching grows,


Where, when I languish,


Where, in my need to know, where can I run?

Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?

Who, who can understand?

He, only One.

He answers privately,

Reaches my reaching

In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.

Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching.

Constant he is and kind,

Love without end.

I have felt that my whole life I’ve emphasized the Savior’s understanding of our pain. I’ve borne testimony that He knows all our pains and sorrows. I still believe that with all the conviction of my heart. However, never before have I sought to understand His pain, and His suffering. Up to now, all my pain has been for my own sake, centered on me. Now that I have this amazing life growing within me I know that my suffering is for someone else. And even though my hardship is so small in comparison, I am grateful to have this miniscule understanding of what suffering out of love for another is like.

This experience is definitely not over. I imagine actually giving birth will be more excruciating than I can imagine; but I feel at peace now. I know that I am blessed to have knowledge of God’s tender mercies. I am blessed to know that I can turn to Him for peace. And more than anything, I feel blessed that my loving Heavenly Father gives me these experiences for my own growth and strength. I cannot compare my journey of progression to anyone else’s. It is my own travels, my own experiences that will shape me into who I am to become. There is no comparison there.