Comparison is a Thief

 I've heard the saying "comparison is the thief of joy" SO many times. I don't know if it's always a symptom of depression, but it is definitely common among the friends I have discussed it with. This is one of the reasons that social media is such a problem, and why it is immediately blocked in all mental health hospitals and facilities.

I used to compare the number of likes I would get vs someone else in the same circle. I don't do this anymore, but it was a big deal. One of the few memories I have of being admitted to the hospital in 2019 was them asking how serious my suicidal thoughts and ideations were and asking me about social media. I remember feeling validated, knowing this was common enough of a problem that it had to be asked during check-in.

The biggest comparison I hear about, and probably the biggest one I struggle with myself, is comparing the support given to those with mental illness vs those with physical illness. I don't 100% agree with the fact that people will always help more for physical illness than mental illness. I think, most of the time, mental illness is hard to help with because it ebbs and flows so much. Some of the problems I have identified are:

When you have a good day, people assume you are no longer depressed. 

When you are depressed, you don't always share it. 

When you do share your hard times, people assume that you talking about it is "enough" and you don't need more help.

When you reach out more than "occasionally" you are deemed as a negative person, an attention-seeker, or "too much" AKA, needy.

When you are in a dark place, you tend to feel your trauma, your depression, your struggle or harmful thoughts are not as bad as others. COMPARISON, again!

Most of all, it's very taboo. Even now, in 2025. I hesitate to use the words "mental illness" or "suicide" even though I talk openly about it, the words feel so hard to get out sometimes. 

I have had many people stop talking to me because they got tired of helping. I have had friends praise me for being so open, then cut me off when they struggle. I have lost more friends than I can say because I talk about my mental illness.

Recently, the comparison I am struggling with is that of brain injuries

I have 2 friends that have needed brain surgery, both for cancerous tumors. One, "T", was a friend in high school, as was his wife. He has had a rough time, several surgeries, chemo, radiation, physical therapy, etc. It has been awful. His entire community has come together (as they should) to help his family. People have empathy for him and his wife and his kids.  The local soda shop did a fund-raiser and donated most of their sales for a certain day to their medical bills. A local theater highlighted him and his strength in hard times, with a link to his GoFundMe. People were constantly praising him and his wife, offering all kinds of help. I had help with getting kids to and from school, and one friend helped me get a lot of things that helped me feel better about everything. I don't want to minimize what I did receive. I have to constantly remind myself that I didn't actually NEED that kind of support. But it would have been nice to feel like I was that important.

The second one, "K" is my "church friend"/neighbor. She has new twin boys; they were only 8 months old when her tumor was found. I felt a connection to her immediately when I met her. When I found out she was having twins, I reached out constantly. I made sure she was taken care of for several weeks after the babies were born. I reached out and offered help with childcare or meals. Then, when the tumor was found, I heard about it from mutual acquaintances. Not her. I was hurt and I know that doesn't make sense. She can't inform everyone, and I'm definitely not her best friend. But I thought we were close. Everyone has helped with round-the-clock childcare, meals every day, help with the house and yard, financial assistance, and more. This is amazing. It brings me joy that so many have helped her, because she needs and deserves it, just as "T" does. Again, I just wondered why I didn't have the love she did. Every time I offer help, she doesn't need it. Too many people have already offered. I would love to hold infant twins again! But I am not needed.

When "K" had her first surgery, several people mentioned that she lost some memories. She couldn't remember her boys, and it took her a while to remember her husband's name. She was working with a physical therapist to learn to walk normally, a speech therapist helping her talk like she did before. Whenever I talk to one of our mutual friends, I hear thoughts of empathy. Prayers and support, love, concern. 

Here is where my worst comparisons of all time have kicked in.... I can find differences in most comparisons that help me get past the depression I may feel. But this time? This is too much like before.

When I was in the hospital, Jason tells me that people brought dinners a few times. I was in the hospital 13 days, and a "few" meals were brought. Nobody helped with my kids (except my mom). Nobody helped financially, or cleaned my house, or helped in any other way. Just a few meals. After I came home, and did ECT for another 21 months, I received no offers for help with childcare, transportation, financial aid, meals, or anything. I wasn't offered any therapies for my cognitive struggles, no empathy for my lost memories. No help other than my mom and my own kids, and THEY needed the support as much as I did!! Once I came home, it seemed like everyone just figured (assumed) I was ok and I would resume all the responsibilities (which are hard enough when you're on your "A" game)

Maybe I didn't reach out enough. Maybe my family didn't. I know Jason hates asking for help, even if it is for ME. There are lots of reasons. But all I can think, is that I am not important enough. Not enough to be thanked or praised or helped. Not enough to be asked to help my sweet friend. It's very likely because it's a mental illness, so taboo. But it feels like it's personal. I just don't matter.

Since I stopped ECT, and have been open about all the problems it caused, I have not received a lot of empathy. More often than not, people respond with well-meaning comments like "it's OK if you forgot some of that. I don't remember some of that either" or "good job getting through it" or "well, it's in the past". I appreciate the sentiment, but I really want to feel like what I went through deserves support and kindness and empathy and love. 

It's been 5 years though. I need to get over it. At least that's the gist of what I hear from everyone