Compare and Despair

“The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.”
― Steven Furtick

The other day The New York Times had an excellent profile of a farm wife from Utah who lives with her husband and eight children on a 328-acre ranch called Ballerina Farm. The name harkens back to her teenage years, which she spent at Juilliard, studying dance. Her name is Hannah Neeleman, and if some Hollywood mogul ever wanted to do a remake of Wonder Woman, he/she should forget the worldwide search and just give the role to Neeleman. She wouldn’t even have to act. All she would have to do is live her life, which she shares with her almost 22 million followers on YouTube, TikTok and Instagram.

To say that Neeleman has become the modern doyenne of domesticity is to state the obvious. Her following, according to The Times, is bigger than those of Martha Stewart, Joanna Gaines and Ina Garten combined. A devout Mormon who is married to the son of the founder of JetBlue Airways, she bakes her own bread and rolls out her own herbed sourdough noodles. She grows vegetables and herbs, churns butter, makes condiments from scratch and has a deep passion for yogurt, sustainability and living a life of glorious self-sufficiency in the mountains southeast of Salt Lake City.

It's hard to overstate the reach of Neeleman’s attributes – entrepreneurial, financial, familial, physical. She was named Mrs. USA in 2023 and competed in the Mrs. World pageant shortly after giving birth to baby No. 8. She is a homemaking powerhouse who has built the Ballerina brand into a sprawling enterprise that employs some 50 workers and includes everything from housewares to honey, colanders to croissants, gingham aprons to holiday wreaths and garlands. When she isn’t busy with her sourdough starter or making Ballerina beef stroganoff, Neeleman home schools the kids, nurtures pregnant cows and lifts weights with Daniel, her husband. She has even launched a popular new protein powder.

Oh, and she is also the cover girl of the latest edition of Evie magazine, looking radiant alongside the headline, “Ballerina Farm and the New American Dream.” (https://www.eviemagazine.com/post/ballerina-farm-and-the-new-american-dream)

In The Times article, one Ballerina fan was quoted by writer Julia Moskin. “I love to watch what she does, but sometimes it makes me crazy that she makes it look so easy,” the fan said. “I have two kids, I can barely cook one thing most days and there she is looking perfect and teaching herself to make mozzarella.”

The Ballerina Farm slogan is “Wholesome Charm for Everyday Living.” Some critics of Neeleman’s – there are always critics, aren’t there? – wonder if it’s all too good to be true. Could it be, as Moskin ponders, that she is “a privileged influencer whose performative perfection masks the real work involved”? Could it be that she is captive to traditional Mormon ideals about how a woman is supposed to live her life, and couldn’t see any other options?

Or, as Neeleman insists, is she, authentically and gratefully, living her dream life?

“I always knew I wanted to be a mom who supported her family,” Neeleman said. “I didn’t know it would look like this, but I’m so proud of what we’ve built.”

So why are we taking this virtual spin around Ballerina Farm and the multi-talented multi-tasker, Hannah Neeleman? It’s because I think there’s a useful reminder here about how dangerous, and self-diminishing, it is to compare your life to someone else’s. (Disclaimer: I am not a woman, and have no plans to become one. Nor will I be entering a beauty pageant anytime soon. So I can’t compare myself to Hannah Neeleman, but I think you get the larger point.)

It’s not for me to pass judgment on how Neeleman lives her life or runs her business. Is everything as idyllic as it looks on social media? How would I possibly know? What I do know, though, is how troubling, and even toxic, it is to indulge in comparisons . . . to look at people you admire, respect, even envy - a neighbor or friend or celebrity – and weaponize what you see against yourself. Look at how nice his house is. Look at how loving his relationships with his partner and his kids are. Look at the job he has, the money he makes, the faith he has, the way he can change his own oil, the way everyone glows about his character.

The list goes on and on. There’s a saying I first heard in a 12-step program: “To compare is to despair.” It is so true. Every time I lapse into this thinking – too often, honestly – I wind up feeling crappy and inadequate. I should be able to do this better, and that better. I should be a better provider, a better husband, a better father. I should be able to bench press more, and have more definition in my core. I should have way more Substack subscribers; I don’t because I’m not as smart or as good a writer as this person or that person. Everybody else is in on the secret. I am not.

What’s wrong with me?

When I force myself to look closely at this, the way I am doing now, I can see how distorted this thinking is. I also see how selective it is, because the comparisons rarely go both ways. I don’t compare myself with someone who is in jail for committing a hideous crime, or a drug addict whose whole life is driven by getting his next fix, or the guy who collects stray carts in a supermarket parking lot. I only do the comparisons with people who seem to have achieved some pinnacle or another, who have it all together.

Let the feelings of inadequacy begin.

This, of course, is grossly unfair to me. It’s the definition of “stinking thinking,” another 12-step saying. Once I catch myself doing it, it snaps me back to a more even-keeled place. It allows me to appreciate that, for all the myriad things I need to do better at, I have many good qualities, too.

So yeah, sure, I want to have more subscribers and be the best husband and father and friend I can be. I want to be more organized, and more mindful of people who are struggling and how I can help them. There are so many ways I can be better. Self-improvement is wonderful, but so is self-acceptance. I want to be at peace with where I am. I don’t want to bemoan what I lack, but embrace and appreciate who I am and what I have. I want to take in the bounty in my life, the view from right here. Who knows? It might be just as nice as Ballerina Farm.