“I'm always comparing myself to others?”

And how do I stop?

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The Question

I am a 46-year-old woman, married for 22 years to a man I love deeply. We have three lovely children, work part-time in jobs we enjoy, and are financially secure enough that early retirement is possible. We live in an ordinary 1970s house in an ordinary area with nice neighbours, backing onto a playground where the kids have friends. It is comfortable and suits our family, and we are happy there.

But I constantly compare myself to others, especially my stepbrother, who lives in the next village on a beautiful street of Grade II listed houses. Seeing homes come up for sale on his road sends me into a tailspin. I scroll Rightmove endlessly, all day sometimes, comparing house prices and imagining what it would feel like to live somewhere more “impressive”. Would I feel better in a more impressive house?

I grew up surrounded by wealth and status. My parents were ambitious and successful. Our homes were large and filled with expensive antiques and art, but emotionally it was quite cold. After their acrimonious divorce, I often felt anxious and overlooked. My stepbrother was unkind to me and no one took my distress seriously. Sometimes I was so anxious I couldn’t eat. That feeling of being the odd one out has stuck, the anxiety keeps coming back.

My mother, who lives nearby, often compares herself to others and talks about how everyone else is better off, have nicer things, and even better clothes! I can see that I’ve inherited this way of thinking and I want to break the cycle. My husband, who comes from a more modest background, has no interest in any of this. He is happy where we are, and I wish I could be more like him.

How do I stop this exhausting pattern of comparison and learn to feel content with the life I have?

The Answer

This is not about the house. I think you know that but sometimes we need someone else to say it out loud.

You are not trawling Rightmove because you are in the wrong home. You are doing it because you are in the wrong mindset. The idea is that if you just had the right postcode, the right square footage, the right kind of period windows, something inside would finally settle. But it does not work like that. Because the discomfort is not in your home. It is in what you fear the house says about you.

You grew up in a world where status stood in for emotional connection. Where being admired was often mistaken for being loved. Where material symbols were not just aspirational, they were how value was measured. As a child, you internalised that belief because you had to. It was the climate of your family life. You had no choice but to breathe it in. But now that climate is fogging your thinking. You want to break the cycle, and I believe you can. But breaking it does not mean forcing the thoughts to go away. It means noticing them without letting them take the wheel.

I have banged on before* about internal and external referencing. You have become an external referencer. That means you are constantly checking outside yourself for clues about how you are doing. It is a very understandable habit for someone who grew up in a world where appearances and outside opinions carried so much weight. But it is exhausting. And it creates a life where you are never quite allowed to rest. Because there will always be someone with the shinier postcode, a bigger kitchen island, and an over-landscaped garden. Internal referencing, on the other hand, is about turning the attention inwards. Asking yourself, how do I feel in this home? Is it warm? Is it safe? Do we laugh here? This shift is not easy. It takes practice. But it is where peace begins. You mention your mother plays the comparison game too. It sounds like you inherited this preoccupation. Perhaps you could experiment with nudging the conversation in another direction when it comes up. You might even say, gently, that you are trying to think less in those terms and more about how something feels rather than how it might appear to others. That may not stop her. But it may help you remember what you are trying to change.

You are thriving. You have made a life that your younger self might have barely dared to imagine. You are safe. You are loved. You do meaningful work. You are raising children with stability and care. Your husband, who does not bother with comparison, may not always understand this struggle of yours. But he models the kind of quiet confidence you are looking for. He is your reminder that there is another way to live. I don’t think urge to check and compare and count is a sign of vanity or greed. I believe it is a sign of anxiety. It is the mind trying to protect you from feeling that you’re not enough. That ache does not come from your house. It comes from your childhood. From being overlooked. From having your distress minimised. From growing up in a system that made you feel like the wrong one. Your stepbrother bullied you and your pain were dismissed. That sort of experience burrows in. It teaches you to look outward for reassurance; to try to beat the pain by outperforming it. But outperforming pain does not work. Understanding it does. That girl who used to get so anxious she could not eat still lives in you. She is the one looking at the property listings and panicking. She is the one trying to work out if you are still allowed to feel okay. But you are. You are allowed to feel okay. In fact, you are more than okay. You are thriving your way, not the way in which you were brought up. A way which still isn’t working for your mother. You do not need to prove anything by owning a particular kind of house. You are allowed to stay where you are, not because you could not do better, but because you already have. You have built a life that is real and grounded and loving. And if you don’t spend money on a showy house, the kids will still have their friends in the playground, and you’ll still be able to retire early and live your best lives.

*in my book How To Stay Sane

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