Do you remember this episode of FRIENDS? The one where they all go out for dinner, and end up splitting the bill even though 3 of the 5 ordered the bare minimum off the menu to save some bucks?
That was me yesterday. Not with regards to the food thing – I’m quite a splurger when it comes to my grub – but I felt like the ‘Phoebe’ of the group at our girls dinner last night when the conversation turned to holidays. It went a little something like this:
“Guys, let’s do another girls trip!“
“Yes! Keen, November?“
Me: “Sorry? November, as in TWENTY FOURTEEN? (Secretly hoping that somewhere like Magaliesberg would be on the list of choices)
Alas, the destinations that cropped up were closer to Prague, Amsterdam, Greece and Brazil, and with every new country that was thrown out my heart sunk a little bit further into my chest. Knowing full well I could never afford an overseas holiday that soon, let alone anytime in the next year.
The conversation went on, and on with each person delegated a task of researching certain destinations, while I avoided eye contact and tried not to cry into my Chenin Blanc.
How do they do it, I asked myself – why, when we all work hard am I the one who is (seemingly) constantly worried about money. This of course then turns into a self hating spiral of despair. You’re not as thin as someone, not as talented, not as good an athlete. Your car isn’t as nice, your home isn’t as big, your partner not as generous. I bet people never complicate you behind your back. I bet they never consider you to be amazing.
Needless to say a gorgeous evening out with my incredible mates left me feeling really sad – and the only person to blame was myself.
It’s so hard to not compare yourself with others. And it’s also very dangerous too. I need to stop. I don’t want to be the Phoebe anymore.