You can be perfectly happy with your achievements until you find out what someone else has accomplished.

Maybe you were proud of your test grade until you heard what your friend got. Or you felt good about your extracurriculars until you saw how much someone else was doing. Suddenly, something you were satisfied with five minutes ago doesn't seem quite as impressive anymore.

And that's what I find so frustrating about comparison. Nothing about our own achievements has actually changed. We've just found someone else to measure them against.

Psychologist Leon Festinger explored this tendency in his Social Comparison Theory (1954). He suggested that people naturally compare themselves to others to evaluate their abilities and opinions, especially when there's no clear way to measure them (Festinger, 1954).

Psychologists also distinguish between upward social comparison, when we compare ourselves to people we think are doing better, and downward social comparison, when we compare ourselves to those we think are doing worse (Wills, 1981; Wood, 1989).

Comparison isn't always a bad thing. Seeing someone succeed can motivate us to work harder or try something new. But it can also leave us wondering whether we're doing enough, even when we were perfectly satisfied with our progress before.

And social media gives us many opportunities to wonder.

You've probably seen Instagram accounts that share students' university acceptances. My school has one too, and I genuinely enjoy seeing people get into universities they've worked hard for.

But there's something strange about scrolling through acceptance after acceptance, especially when they're from prestigious universities. You might not even be applying yet, but suddenly you're questioning whether you're doing enough to prepare for your own future.

There's nothing wrong with celebrating these achievements. But the posts only show us part of the story. We see where students were accepted, without necessarily seeing the rejections, uncertainty, or effort that came before.

It's easy to forget that we're looking at a collection of successful moments rather than a complete picture of everyone's experiences.

There's another psychological concept called pluralistic ignorance, which occurs when people privately feel or believe something but mistakenly assume that others feel differently (Prentice & Miller, 1993).

For example, we might feel uncertain about our academic abilities or future plans but assume that everyone else has everything figured out. Since people don't always openly discuss their doubts, it's easy to mistake their confidence on the outside for certainty on the inside.

Of course, some people genuinely are confident about their futures. Others might be struggling with things we know nothing about. Either way, we're making judgments about ourselves based on information we don't fully have.

How can we shift our focus back to our own progress?

I'm not convinced we can completely stop comparing ourselves. But we can question what those comparisons actually tell us.

When someone gets a higher grade or is accepted into a prestigious university, does that mean we're falling behind? Do we even have the same goals?

It also helps to look at how far we've come rather than only how far ahead someone else seems to be. Maybe we've improved in a subject we used to struggle with or finally tried something we'd been putting off. Those achievements still matter, even if nobody's posting about them.

And when it comes to social media, it's worth remembering how little we actually know from a single post. An acceptance announcement tells us where someone got in. It doesn't tell us everything they went through to get there.

The next time I find myself comparing my progress to someone else's, I want to ask whether I'm actually falling behind, or whether I've simply started measuring my achievements against someone else's goals.

I've spent more time deciding how to spend my free time than actually enjoying it.

Sometimes, even the smallest decisions become a whole debate in my head. Should I join another extracurricular? Should I study for that test next week? Or should I just take a break? A normal afternoon becomes another thing I need to plan.

I think part of the problem is that at this age, we're constantly encouraged to make the most of our time, especially in high school. We're told to explore our interests, build our experiences, challenge ourselves, and prepare for our futures. And while there's nothing wrong with any of that, it can make even ordinary decisions feel like opportunities we can't afford to waste.

For example, choosing an extracurricular shouldn't be that stressful. But suddenly, I'm wondering whether it's something I'll genuinely enjoy and if it’s something that could potentially be listed in my applications, or whether I should be doing something more productive instead. Before I know it, I'm no longer thinking about what I actually want to do. I'm thinking about everything I might be missing out on by choosing it. This is what makes certain decisions so exhausting.

We want to make the best possible choice, even when there isn't necessarily one.

But how are we supposed to know which option is best when we haven't experienced either of them yet?

Of course, some decisions deserve careful thought. Choosing IB subjects, for example, can affect what we study later. But deciding how to spend a Saturday afternoon probably shouldn't require the same level of planning.

Something I've been trying to remind myself is that not every choice needs to be the best possible one. Sometimes, it's enough to choose something because I want to do it.

And if I end up regretting a small decision, that's fine too. I can make a different one next time.

After all, spending an entire afternoon worrying about how to make the most of it is probably the least productive way to spend it.