Compared to her: What is CCS?

An extract from the first chapter of Sophie de Witt's new book, Compared to Her.

One place it happens to me is in a shopping centre. When another woman around the same age as me passes by, I give them a quick up-and-down scan. It’s just a two-second appraisal. And as I look at them, I see that they’re doing the same thing with me—a quick sideways glance.

What are we doing? We’re comparing ourselves with each other. How does my figure match up with hers? Does she look more or less stylish/cool/effortless than me? Do I look as good as her without having spent the money she clearly has? On all these measuring scales, do I win, compared to her? Or lose?

Maybe for you it’s not other women in shops. But you’ll still do that glance of comparison. It might happen in someone else’s house. Or in the bar. Or on the beach. Or at the office or lecture hall. Or even at church, if you go. We spend our lives making these sorts of comparisons: measuring ourselves against others.

That’s the sort of comparing that this book is about. And it’s a compulsive kind of comparison; we keep on doing it. It’s what I’ve labelled Compulsive Comparison Syndrome.

Why do we do it? Pause for a moment before reading on, and just ask yourself: When I compare myself with someone else, why do I do it? What am I hoping to get out of it? Maybe you had one of these answers, or something like it:

• I don’t know; I just do it (it’s an unthinking compulsion).
• Because I want to know how I’m doing in life. Am I doing as well as I could be, or is there more I need to get or do?
• I want to make sure that I’m “normal”.
• I need to make sure that I’m not missing out on something that others are enjoying.
• It makes me feel better when I realise I’m doing something better than someone else.
• Because my parents told me throughout my childhood to be a little bit more like my sister/other people’s children.

Underneath each of those answers to the question “Why compare?” is one of three motivations:

 
• I want to know I’m worthwhile (I want to know I’m significant).
• I want to know that my life is as good as it could be (I want to be satisfied).
• I want to know that I’ve got what I need in life (I want to feel secure).

Of course, sometimes it’s a mixture of all three. Essentially, what I’m after is to make sure I’ve got as much, or more, of something than others, so that I can feel significant about who I am, satisfied about what I’m doing and secure about where I’m heading. CCS is a compulsive measuring of myself against the standards of others, desiring a higher position.

Who do we do it with?

Who was the last person you looked at and thought: “I wish I had her…”? How about: “I’m so glad I’m not like her when it comes to…”?

I’ll compare myself with anyone. Strangers in a shopping centre, as I’ve said. Airbrushed models in a magazine. The owners of the houses on home improvement shows.

But most often, since they’re most similar to me and I see their lives in detail most often, it’s my friends, my family, the people I see most days. After all, when I compare my face to Angelina Jolie’s, I’ve got several ready-made excuses: her skincare budget is probably more than our annual income; and, of course, she’s probably been airbrushed. In my mind, she’s in a different world to me. When I compare my children’s behaviour to the kids of my friend who lives down the street, however, I don’t have the same excuses. She’s part of my world, and so that comparison has more of an effect on me.

But we can also compare ourselves with people who don’t exist. Ever caught yourself comparing who you are now with who you were twenty years ago, or comparing yourself with who you dreamed you’d become, or with other people’s expectations of you?

It seems to me that most of us are comparing ourselves with others all the time, in all kinds of ways. That’s the problem with a compulsion; it happens unconsciously, without us even really noticing it’s happening.

But we do notice the feelings the comparisons produce—the symptoms of CCS.

On the blog tomorrow: how to spot the symptoms of CCS.

And if contentment is something you'd love to experience, but which often seems elusive, take advantage of our this-week-only deal and grab Compared to Her at 20% off—just £5.60 in the UK, or $10.80 in the US. Simply enter the code "Contentment" at the checkout.