Obviously, I wasn’t happy. The only moments I felt a glimmer of satisfaction were when I made a great video that hundreds of thousands of people found useful, but this satisfaction faded after a day or so. And it would completely die the moment I posted another video that wasn’t received well. It was a vicious cycle, like always drinking from a cup that was half-empty.
I’m sure most of you can already identify the problem with my mindset here because let’s face it: at times, the most obvious solutions to problems can be the most difficult for us to recognize. Had I simply accepted from the beginning that I would never be as good as the other political YouTubers, had I simply been content with trying my best, I would’ve saved myself and those closest to me a lot of pain.
There is a common structure step in every good book called “the attack by ally,” when the allies of the main character notice something that the main character is doing wrong and point it out—not to judge or criticize, but because they care about the main character and want to help. In a way, this is exactly what happened to me. My mother, who had all the while been keeping a close eye on me, eventually decided that enough was enough. She told me, in a loving way of course, that I’d stopped treating myself and others as well as I once did. She told me that my YouTube content wasn’t as good as it had been in the beginning because it was less from the heart. She even told me I looked physically unhealthy, that I’d lost my spark.
I’ll admit that I didn’t react well initially. My transition was long and difficult. What helped was telling myself that even if my contributions were only shadows in comparison to what my fellow political YouTubers were contributing, at least I was doing something. I was giving all that I could to the best of my ability. Something else that helped was realizing that I should never have treated my fellow political YouTubers as competitors in the first place. At the end of the day, we were all a team.
Should we ever allow our insecurities to take control, as I did, they will be a source of constant pain. The natural way to ease such pain is to push ourselves beyond our limits, or even to seek validation from others, which might pressure or persuade us to make choices that go against our principles—things we would never normally do if we were in a healthy state of mind. Moreover, what happens if we don’t receive the validation we’re so desperately seeking, or worse, if we get the opposite? It destroys us.
Another danger of allowing our insecurities to take control is that, in some cases, they can convince us to give up on ourselves. Every task we attempt will be tortured by an inner voice telling us that we’re inadequate, that we’ll never be as good as those we’ve been comparing ourselves to. Our sense of motivation will become paralyzed and collapse. We may even stop trying altogether. And if we don’t try, we will never progress. We will never achieve the remarkable things that we might’ve achieved had we learned to master our insecurities.
There have been plenty of times when I felt that I’d reached my limit, that I was incapable of fighting anymore. I sought refuge in places where the world couldn’t see or judge me. But the one thing I could never succeed in shutting out was the knowledge that if I gave up on myself, I was finished. Nobody would be able to save me. People can help us, yes, but only to an extent. And before others can help us, we have to help ourselves. Of course, it’s normal and understandable to spend a few days trying to rebuild ourselves every now and again, but eventually, we have to stand back up.
When it comes to mastering feelings of inadequacy, I’ve often found it helpful to consider the fact that nearly every meaningful achievement requires work: developing a skill, raising a family, making a marriage work, having a professional career. All are difficult roads to meaningful destinations.
Each human being has unique qualities, even if these qualities are small. It’s why we use the term “irreplaceable.” Because the person who we consider irreplaceable has qualities that nobody could ever perfectly replicate.
What are your own unique qualities? What qualities do you have that the person you’ve been comparing yourself to doesn’t have? Perhaps you have special physical attributes or a method of treating people that makes them feel appreciated in a way that no one else can.
Also, what are your strong suits? Perhaps you’re not too attractive, but you’re intelligent and caring. Or vice versa: Perhaps you have the beauty, but not the brains or the kindness.
For every single one of us, unique qualities and strong suits are the foundation upon which we must build. But it’s best if we do so slowly. Trying to do too much too fast will almost always result in our becoming overwhelmed and perhaps even quitting. Instead, we must take it one day at a time, one step at a time. Our most useful ally along the way will always be focus. If we’re able to keep a strong focus, we’ll be less inclined to continue comparing ourselves to others, for we will only have a mind for the goals that lie ahead. We will also have much more time, energy and motivation to complete these goals.
When Others Think You’re Not Good Enough
If you thought to yourself, that girl is smarter than me, or if somebody else said to you, “that girl is smarter than you,” which remark would hurt you more? Most girls, myself included, would choose the second remark. The reason for this is because the comparison is not a personal conclusion, one that can be overcome through hard work or validation. It’s an external perspective, oftentimes irreversible, and completely outside our control.
During my childhood, people often negatively compared me to my sisters. I was told my sisters were more beautiful than me, that they had a better sense of style, and that they had more talent when it came to singing, drawing and writing, and so on. When I joined political YouTube, the comparisons kicked into overdrive. Thousands of people were regularly commenting on my videos, and among these comments, negative comparisons always popped up. Your twin sister is much more beautiful and feminine than you, some would write. Others compared me to fellow female political YouTubers, saying that they were prettier and more intelligent.
Obviously, it’s natural for such comparisons to hurt. But there is a route of combat, and it starts with examining the person who made the hurtful comparison. Do we know the person? Or are they just some random stranger who we’ve never met? If this is the case, it’s natural to feel hurt, but ultimately, it would be silly to allow a stranger’s opinion to affect our overall view of ourselves. The only opinions that should carry weight are the opinions of those we love, look up to and respect.
So, if at any point, someone who we love, look up to and respect makes a negative comparison of us, the feeling of inadequacy is completely understandable.
Of all the times I’ve been compared to other girls, the situation I recall hurting me the most was when a couple of male friends compared me to another girl. Of course, I had no intimate or familial attachment to the young men—we were simply political acquaintances—but the comparison still hurt. We were all packed into the car, heading home from a political protest which, at several points, had escalated into violence.
“Wow, Anna’s amazing,” the driver, a young man named Victor, commented. “Seriously, she’s like the sweetest girl ever.”
“Who’s Anna?” I asked, only half-paying attention. Sitting in the passenger seat, my head slouched against the window, I was fighting off sleep. Odors of sweat and pepper spray saturated my clothing. My energy was depleted, far past my point of tolerance, and I wanted nothing more than to collapse into my bed. The back-to-back protests, rallies and speeches were beginning to take a toll. I questioned whether I was cut out for political activism, mainly because I often felt too weak to go on. My sole motivation for persevering stemmed from an ardent belief in our cause. I couldn’t ignore the dire state of the West, no matter how much I wanted to, no matter how high the personal cost: my life ambitions, my security and privacy, my livelihood, my reputation, and more.
The second young man, Andrew, who was sitting in the back seat, answered, “How do you not remember Anna, Britt? She made us all dinner.”
“Oh—of course. Sorry, I forgot.”
I smiled sheepishly,