When the full weight of the pandemic first hit me, a profound sense of dread settled deep within, like a heavy stone. That feeling persists, influencing my memory, sleep, appetite, and energy. This dread is multifaceted; it encompasses not just fear, but also anger and frustration—a sense of lost balance and halted progress.
However, amidst this turmoil, I recognize that I am fundamentally okay. I understand that, in comparison to many others, I have countless reasons to be grateful.
The phrase “in comparison to others” has become somewhat controversial. Influential voices on social media, such as Mia Thompson and Sarah Johnson, advise against comparing our experiences to those of others. This sentiment is echoed in various comment sections, where individuals lament, “This isn’t a competition for suffering!” The reasoning is that such comparisons can lead to shame over legitimate feelings. Everyone has the right to struggle, to feel a range of emotions. All grief is valid; comparison is often discouraged.
I wholeheartedly agree that we should not shame ourselves for our emotions. I recognize that there is a vast body of psychological research suggesting that comparing suffering can be detrimental. Yet, I believe that using comparison as a tool for perspective can help lift us out of emotional despair. The concept of “downward comparison” emerged in the 1980s, describing a social phenomenon where someone assesses their situation against those who are worse off, potentially leading to a more positive self-view. This theory has faced scrutiny, as it often overlooks factors like accessibility, motivation, and opportunity.
To put it simply: sometimes, downward comparison fails because someone’s situation is genuinely dire, and telling them “it could be worse” is insensitive. Conversely, those of us with privilege may find that our circumstances aren’t the worst. It’s entirely reasonable to use downward comparisons to cultivate a more optimistic outlook. One can acknowledge their struggles without succumbing to self-hatred or shame. The goal isn’t to belittle others but to gain perspective.
In my journey during COVID-19, I’ve faced some exceptionally challenging days. I’ve experienced panic attacks and had days where I could only get out of bed because my children needed to see me functioning. There have been moments when I showered, not for cleanliness, but to find a private space to cry. The weight of dread remains, pressing down on me.
Logistically, my future is clouded. I’m self-employed, relying on multiple small income streams, some of which vanished overnight due to the pandemic. My partner is 1400 miles away, and I have no idea when we’ll reunite, as travel is unsafe. The educational future for my children is uncertain, with a mix of social distancing and mask refusal in our community. I used to have a clear vision of what a month ahead looked like; now, uncertainty reigns.
I could easily succumb to sadness—sometimes, I want to. Instead, I choose to compare. Yes, I’ve had my share of panic attacks and tearful days, but, in comparison to many, I am physically and mentally healthy. I don’t rely on medications that could face supply issues. If I needed medical assistance, I have a healthcare plan and providers available to support me. I recognize my luck in this situation.
While I’ve lost income, I still have some financial stability. Many have lost their entire livelihoods; I consider myself fortunate. Although I face uncertainty, I possess a support system that ensures my children and I will not go hungry, regardless of financial setbacks.
I don’t know when I’ll see my partner again, but I think of military families separated for long periods or those in different time zones. I reflect on how difficult it would have been to maintain this relationship two decades ago without today’s technology, or even forty years ago when society may not have accepted our queer relationship. It really could be much worse.
As for my children’s schooling, I acknowledge that many face far greater challenges. In some parts of the world, children lacked access to education long before the pandemic. We are fortunate. We have options. This time without structured education, and any future uncertainty, cannot be classified as insurmountable suffering. The resources we had prior to the pandemic will remain accessible, and the truth is that we are privileged; we will be okay.
These “downward comparisons” remind me to practice gratitude. The term itself—”downward comparison”—is not my favorite, as it can imply arrogance, which is not the intention. The purpose is to gain perspective and foster appreciation for what we have.
When that heavy dread attempts to pull me down, comparing my own struggles to those of others helps me regain perspective. It allows me to not only feel more positive about my situation but also to reach out and support those who are in a more challenging position than I am.
I refuse to feel ashamed for having difficult days or admitting my sadness, grief, or longing for change. We should all embrace our emotions. Yet, it’s also essential to recognize that comparison can be beneficial. Ultimately, perspective is everything.
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Summary:
The author discusses the complex emotions experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic, highlighting both personal challenges and the importance of perspective. By engaging in downward comparison, the author finds gratitude in their circumstances, recognizing the privilege they hold compared to others. This reflection encourages embracing emotions while also fostering a sense of perspective.