I’ve always been captivated by the stories of others since I was young. Even now, I love to hear a good story of people’s lives— their struggles, moments of self-discovery, triumphs, and where they are today. It’s inspiring, it’s hopeful, and it stirs something deep inside me, it makes my feeler feel good. Sometimes, though, I go a little overboard when trying to relate to the person telling their story because I’ll find myself upset with my mom because she abandoned me before I was born. Or I’ll suddenly become frustrated with my dad because he walked out of my life forever never to be seen again… except on the weekends and whenever I called he’d come running, but he was never there! Needless to say, I dive into these stories.

It’s strange, because sometimes I catch myself feeling envious of the lives others have lived, simply because of where they are now. And then I start questioning, what’s wrong with where I am? What’s wrong with the life I’ve lived? But I’ve come to realize that everyone’s story is unique, and it’s important that we find what’s significant in our own stories, so we don’t fall into the trap of comparison.

Sure, we all have those people we look up to, those we admire for their journey. But we have to be careful, because that admiration can easily turn into a never-ending cycle of comparison. I’ve been there, stuck in that cage of comparison. Growing up, my brother was the fastest person I knew. In my mind, he’s still the fastest. Even though the thirties kicked in and moved some joints around, and his speed might have changed, to me, he’ll always be the fastest. I wanted to be like him so badly, to step into his shoes, quite literally, and be as fast as he was.

But I wasn’t. I was regular fast. In track terms, I was “third heat” fast, not the one everyone was watching. And that’s okay. It took me a while to realize that my body was built for different things, for longer distances, not short sprints like my brother. It wasn’t until my final year of high school, when I ran a 5:14 mile with no practice, that I understood where I excelled. It felt good to be in my own lane, to do what came naturally to me.

It’s great to learn from others, to apply their lessons to our own lives. But now is the time to dive into our own stories, to uncover the unique path we’re meant to walk. You might be asking, as I have, “How do I dive into my story?” The answer, I believe, lies in asking ourselves some key questions. What comes naturally to me? What do others praise me for? What topic could I talk about endlessly? What problems do I solve effortlessly?

Don’t be disheartened if the answers don’t come immediately, or if your path seems unclear. It takes time, and sometimes a little guidance, to see ourselves as we truly are. Give yourself the grace to be you. SOS