Comparison and the Inner Compass

For many of us "healthy" is a loaded word. It means something a little different to everybody because of the examples we've been given, the lifestyles we're attracted to, and many varying factors beyond our control such as access to health resources like nutritious food, encouragement (or lack of it) from those around us, and even things like chronic illness.

In the middle of the chaos of everyday life, we're also bombarded with a lot of messaging about what is or is not healthy, and emotionally directed towards choices that can have widespread effect in how we make small choices towards or away from confidence.

Here's my first thought for you; what if there was a quiet but determined voice inside of you that actually knew what you needed? What if that voice was telling you, consistently and with care, what steps you had to take to feel just a little bit better in your body, mind and spirit tomorrow? A friendly inner compass, a candle lit.

Where is the light within coming from?

Picture a map in your mind for a moment. The topography is diverse. There are mountains to climb, brush and brambles near foothills, canyons and deserts, flowing rivers and stagnant ponds. Some empty, unkempt fields, some flowering meadows. Summits with breathtaking views, caverns with unknown depths. Cities, towns, villages and roads. Consider that this is what our internal world is composed of.

Some might imagine that health is like a fount of water in some central part of the map that all of us are trying to work towards. Actually, it looks very different for everyone because we all start at different points on the map, and where we want to go is different. You may have tried it all and traversed all over the map, but are now feeling like you need stability, form, and structure in one place. You might have spent your whole life being told you're on a mountaintop only to realize you want to come down and see what another area of the map is like. Maybe you want to live near water for the first time- this could look like trying to stay hydrated during your day or learning a new form of exercise.

The Drawbacks of Comparison

It's not just where we are on the map and where we want to go. It's how we think about navigating the space, and what advantages or disadvantages we may have in navigating. No two people are on identical paths in terms of their health goals, the context they are entering these goals from, and their timelines.

We've all heard stories of incredibly accomplished individuals who have figured out how to thrive in spite of seemingly impossibly circumstances, like athletes who continue in their sport and overcome major injuries or illness or loss of limb. We might even know people who have conquered cancer, or are currently fighting a major illness while working, managing their household or family, and sometimes even helping others through their difficulties. You might be that person!

Sometimes it can be hard not to compare ourselves to these super-survivors and expect a lot more of ourselves. On the other hand, we can also put ourselves on the other end of the spectrum when we're being comparative and think that we're somehow making progress if we're subjectively "ahead" of someone else.

The truth is that neither of these approaches addresses that resounding inner voice, the guiding aspect of purpose within; the most empowering resource at our fingertips. This is a voice that is interested in other's stories and perspective from a humble place of learning, and not from a place of judgement regarding their placement on the map in relation to mine. This voice is the one that gauges whether any of the multitude of choices before us will serve us, and it is the ultimate defense against decision fatigue because it is a sense of knowing that comes from a place of acceptance and love. It is balanced and composed.

Now we begin to measure progress for ourselves based on metrics that are related to our own preferences, tastes, motivations and growth. And the beautiful element of this is scalability; for example, when I first started to take my fitness seriously it was after several years of chronic pain and illness. I was lost and intimidated about where to start, had not been able to hold down steady work during my illness, and had this undermining belief that no matter what I tried I would not be physically strong enough to stick with any kind of exercise.

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At that time, I was surprised if I got through two workout sessions a week, and most of that was stretching and working with an exercise ball to strengthen my core. In the moments when I was conflicted about whether or not to move my body, I was essentially faced with the choice between two pains: the agony of inflammation and stagnation from spending too much time sitting or lying down or the pain of trying to strengthen my muscles so that I would be a little more capable the next week, despite inevitable soreness that came from just beginning to exercise. In those moments, the whisper of the possibility of hope, that I might be able to get stronger and not be stuck in this loop of endless physical problems was the choice I decided to listen to time and again over the very loud "manager" type voice in my head saying that exercise might make things worse, I might strain myself, it would be better to accept that this was just what my life was going to look like now, I was going to need care and costly attention for the foreseeable future.

A few years into my recovery, after incorporating regular gym sessions into my week as well as times outside exploring the city for miles of walking, I found myself realizing that the choice of whether or not to exercise that day was no longer a grueling battle between pains, it was pure celebration of the ability to move my body in ways I had once thought was lost to me. I was so excited to workout and get that endorphin flow, that I had a different whisper, one that would suggest which level of intensity to push to, whether to take a rest day.

Cut to a couple years later and I'd had a job in which I was constantly moving large pieces of furniture with as much capability as many of the other staff, I had completed my first large scale mural, and I was entering a stressful period of time in which I would have more family responsibilities. The stress combined with other major life transitions pushed me to a place of wanting to test the limits of what I could physically do, and I started going to regular yoga, attended kickboxing classes, and tried out bouldering at a local rock climbing gym with some friends, which I enjoyed so much that I decided to go ahead and get a membership! Kickboxing was something I had always thought was too cool and intense for me, that I would never be brave enough to try- let alone rock climbing, when I have been intensely scared of heights since visiting the Grand Canyon as a kid! It was safe to say I was facing things in my physical life that made my inner world and courage expand and empowered me to feel more capable of tackling various problems I was encountering in life.

Then I started to hear that voice telling me that I was going to need a season of rest to follow this intense period. I don't mean to imply that I never struggled with comparison during these seasons, but rather that the only reason I feel like I can speak to the value of turning away from it and listening to myself is that I've done that so often. I can't tell you the number of times my husband and I have left the gym and remarked on someone who was working out like a maniac, "Did you see how clean her form was? She was getting it done today!" Sometimes that's fun and even inspirational, so don't get me wrong. Comparison is attractive as a motivator because it can actually work. But that's a short term fuel. It's emotional artificial flavors and sweeteners. The real, sustaining stuff is cultivating your inner wisdom about what is best for you. The more you check in on that compass, the clearer the way to go.