The Comparison Game

Lately, I have been concocting the perfect recipe for unhappiness: constantly comparing myself to other people and wishing I had what they have. This is not an activity in which I routinely engage. Generally, I am quite happy with my life, quite aware of my blessings, and quite satisfied with the choices I've made. But I am definitely prone to the comparison game from time to time, and a job search entices me into this game like nothing else can.

Let's start with job postings. Inevitably, in my searches for jobs falling under the terms "social work," "nonprofit," or "disabilities," there always seems to be something among the results that makes me wish I had chosen a different career path. My latest "I wish I had" is that I should have been an occupational therapist. They are ridiculously in demand, they do a lot of the same types of things I have done in my work with people with disabilities (though with a more specialized set of skills), their education is a two-year Masters degree (same as mine), and the starting salary is $20-$30K more than it is for social workers in the same field. I've found myself almost involuntarily looking at OT job postings, envying their salaries and regular hours, and even taking a peek at admissions requirements for OT Masters programs. Do I really want to be an occupational therapist? I have no idea. But in this comparison game that I am playing, their grass looks greener than mine.

If that fails to make me feel badly enough, I start to think that I should have chosen a different track in my MSW program, done different internships, or gotten a different degree altogether. Lately it seems that, without a clinical track (my focus was management), my MSW isn't much more helpful than a BSW. Maybe I should have focused my MSW on social and economic development. Maybe I should have gone ahead and done the three-year MSW/MBA track, instead of hoping I'll get around to getting my MBA later. How are all of my other social work friends on such clear career paths while I am still fumbling around, trying to figure out how to put my MSW to good use? And considering my outrageous student loans and my social worker salary, was it even worth going to the school I chose? I should have gone to school somewhere else, I tell myself.

And then I start thinking about the people I know. The ones who have more prestigious careers and better salaries, or the ones who maybe don't make as much but are married to people who do. The ones who can afford to do simple things like take vacations and buy a house. I'm as smart as them, I think. I'm a good worker and a quick learner. I'm capable of as much as they are. Why do they get to have vacations and houses when I'm wondering if I will ever, ever be able to afford a trip to Europe or scrape together enough money for a down payment? Yes, the fact that I am unemployed (like so many others, I know) is keeping me from having these things. But the truth is that, even when I get a job, Dan and I will still be far from being able to afford a house or take an extended vacation, despite the fact that we are smart and capable and well-educated. Such is the life of a couple working in the world of nonprofits. And then I start to feel angry and defeated about how little our society values the public servants of our communities: the teachers and the social workers and the police officers and the public defenders and the animal shelter workers. Yes, we care about our communities and want to do good in the world. But we also want to get paid what we're worth, dammit.

I hate to admit it, but this is the frame of mind I've been allowing myself to wallow in periodically for the last several weeks.

Lately, I've have to stop the runaway train and remind myself that everything is a choice. I've chosen the work that I do, the semi-expensive city that I live in, and the choices I make with my money. Dan and I decided that we wanted to live in Philadelphia, and with time, it will feel like home here. I got a fantastic education in my MSW program, made good professional contacts, and gained some fabulous friends. I knew a long time ago that helping people matters more to me than making money (not that these things are mutually exclusive). True, I could probably find a job faster or get a higher salary if I had chosen a different career path. But I will have a job eventually, and the salary that I make is more than enough to get by. I may have to work a little harder, and it may take a little longer, but my goals of vacations and buying a house are not impossible. We'll have to make some sacrifices, and we'll have to be ridiculously disciplined, but we can make it work.

And, as it happens, the comparison game works both ways. Last weekend, I was flipping through the Sunday paper and came across a PARADE article about Zimbabwe. Women who live there are routinely beaten and raped. They constantly live in fear. Inflation is ridiculously out of control. The unemployment rate is 80%. What the hell am I complaining about?

Stop and look around, I have to tell myself. I have a funny, smart, adoring husband who I love a little more every day. A cozy and comfortable apartment. Two cats who make me smile all the time. Books and coffee and fresh air outside. Music. Good health. An amazing group of family and friends who are caring, reliable, and supportive.

When I really stop and think about it, nothing compares to that.