Two Questions to Ask Your Comparing Mind

Stop placing your life and self-worth on a measurement scale

The mind loves to compare.

Evolutionarily speaking, we compared in order to survive. We scanned our surroundings to assess where we stood in terms of resource scarcity, reproduction success, physical safety, and social hierarchy.

The conclusion to such comparison was usually “not enough”, which served as motivation for learning, adaptation, and thriving. Humanity has come this far because of our capacity for identifying gaps for improvement.

In modern times where the need for survival is minimised, the basis of this human nature persists within us. We continue to constantly compare what we have/are with what others have/are.

Advancements and innovations in society also tend to fuel our comparing mind with more opportunities for fixating on being “less than” and striving for being “more than” or at least “equal to”.

I grew up in Singapore, where its world-class education system facilitated a pretty competitive environment for students, and where higher exam scores suggested a potentially better future for the young generation.

One of the defining moments for a student in Singapore was the PSLE (Primary School Leaving Examinations) when we reached 12 years old. I wasn’t particularly studious or “book-smart”, but I knew that if I didn’t do well in the PSLE, I’d be confronted with a less-than-ideal future that might bring shame to my family and hinder any chance for pursuing a comfortable life.

So I worked extra hard for the PSLE based on this fear of being inadequate compared to my peers. Back then, the total PSLE score was 300 marks, and top scoring students usually fared in the range of 270 and above.

As I memorised textbooks and worked on practice questions past midnight every day, I had only one goal in my mind: 272. This was what my elder sister had scored for her PSLE a few years before. It was a joyous day for the family when the results were announced. As a young child, I took in the emotional valence of the situation, and silently vowed to achieve a score that was on par or higher.

My parents had never once pressured me to be at the top of the class, nor pit my sister and I against each other when it came to studying, but somehow the gap was glaring to me in my young psyche. I took it upon myself to have to be “equal or more than” a 272.

And of course, in pursuit of closing this perceived gap, I had at the same time reduced both my sister and myself to a 3-digit number.

On the day of receiving my PSLE results, I cried my heart out. I scored a total of 259. And it was not acceptable to me. No amount of comforting words from my parents were enough to soothe my broken heart and inferiority complex. I sobbed continuously for hours, until I received news that my cousin of the same age had scored 243 for her PSLE.

Really? I asked my parents.

Yes. And why have you stopped crying just now? My mother teased me.

I paused, pouted, and refused to respond. But the tears really did magically stop flowing. And the mind was now flooded with feelings of superiority as it shifted its obsession from “272 vs. 259” to “259 vs. 243”.

This was my first realisation that I had placed my entire existence on a measurement scale of “less than, equal to, and greater than”.